Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(3)

Their plates were taken away, and they lingered over coffee while Paul continued to reminisce. Pretty soon they’d been in that corner booth for a couple of hours.

“I’ve never lost anyone that close,” Terri said, her eyes liquid. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be. You should have called me, Paul. You shouldn’t have shouldered that alone, without support.”

He squeezed her hand. “When I called you, I didn’t have any intention of dumping all this on you. At least not consciously. I thought you’d take my mind off it for a while. But talking to someone who isn’t in the middle of it helps,” he said. “The whole bunch of ’em in Virgin River are so frickin’ torn up—Vanni, her dad, her little brother—I couldn’t let down my guard for a second. Even around my own family—my mom starts crying the second Matt’s name comes up.”

“You must feel like you’re going to explode,” she said.

“You know what I wish?” Paul said. “I know this is nuts—I wish I’d been there with him. I wish it had been me instead of him.”

She was shaking her head. “No. Oh, Jesus, no.”

“He’s got a family. He should be with them. You just have no idea the kind of man he was—he took loyalty to the next level. I could always count on Matt.”

“He counted on you, too. He asked you to look out for his wife…”

“He wouldn’t have had to ask.”

“Paul, you did for Matt what he would have done for you.”

Paul was reflective for a few moments realizing that this woman he’d been out with a few times, slept with a couple of times on a mutually agreed to “friends with privileges” status, could bring him this degree of comfort and understanding. “I owe you, Terri,” he said. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to talk to someone about this.”

She smiled. “Men,” she said, shaking her head. “All that stoicism wrecks your stomach. And usually causes migraines.”

He grinned at her, feeling almost human. “I’ve never had a migraine, but I think my headache’s letting up. For the first time in a while.”

“Look around,” she said. “There’s only one other couple in here, and they’re eating. Let’s get out of here before they start putting the chairs upside down on the tables and mopping the floor.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ve put you through enough. And thanks. For listening.”



When he walked her up the stairs to her second floor apartment, she turned and asked, “Would you like to come in?”

He shook his head immediately. Terri had done a lot for him tonight, just giving him a place to unload. He wasn’t about to take advantage of that. “I don’t think so. But thanks.”

She smiled up at him. She pulled on his hand, drawing him into the apartment. “I’d better not,” he said again, but he said it more softly. And when the door closed, he found his hands were on her waist, his mouth seeking her mouth. And just like the last time he’d been with her, she was up on her toes to reach him, circling his neck with her arms, leaning in to him.

“No,” he said against her mouth. “I’m all screwed up. Tell me no.”

She pressed against him, tonguing his lips apart. “I would hate doing that.”

And he was gone. Brain freeze took over. He had no judgment, no willpower. He was all raw need and pain and gratitude. This was as unburdened as he’d felt in months and he was weak from having carried that grievous load for so long. Before a whole minute had passed, he had Terri down on the couch, kissing her, touching her, hearing her say, yes, yes, yes, yes.

He had one moment of sanity before he slipped his hand under her knit shirt. “Terri, this isn’t a good idea… I didn’t call you for this… I didn’t plan on this…”

“I didn’t, either,” she whispered, letting her eyes fall closed. “God, I missed you.”

Paul’s brain took a hike. He was all physical sensation. He was hard; she was soft. He was desperate, she was hot and willing, and beneath him she seemed as needy as he felt. He ground against her, her bare breast in his hand, his tongue licking its way along her neck. Her hands were on his belt buckle, then his zipper; his hands were tugging at her clothes while she squirmed and moaned. His lips were on her nipple; her hand wrapped around him and he almost lost it. He grabbed for his pocket, pulled an old condom from his wallet and, in a hoarse, desperate whisper he asked, “You have your side covered?”

“The pill, remember?” she answered breathlessly. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

Paul felt his pulse slow just slightly. The gentleman in him had to be sure she wasn’t left hanging so he took a moment, slid a finger along that erogenous knot in her very center while his lips tugged at her breast and when her sighs turned into near cries, he entered her, pumped his hips, waited for pleasure to lock her hips against him and steal her breath away, and he let months of misery spill out of him.

The first thing he felt, while he panted and tried to catch his breath, was overwhelming relief. Basic, primal, physical relief, as potent as a narcotic. The next thing he felt was regret. He shouldn’t have done that. Even though they had an understanding he could sense that she cared about him. Why else would she listen to him with such sensitivity; draw him inside and welcome this encounter.