Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(53)

“I am. I think you worked it out of me.”

He touched her swollen lips with tender fingers. “Do you think your father will shoot me?”

“Probably not,” she said, smiling. “But if you hear a rifle cock, you might want to duck.”

“Funny,” he said, kissing her again.

“I think I have whisker burn,” she told him.

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Looks good on you, too.”

“We have to go back. I have a baby to take care of.”

“I don’t want to go back…. He’s going to be waiting for me….”

“You might as well just face it,” she said, and laughed again. “We’ve been out here a long time.”

“Not quite long enough,” he said, and kept her just a few more minutes, afraid to let her go.

She wiggled her hips against his. “Paul, it’s pretty obvious, pinning me against a big old tree turns you on.”

“I know,” he said. “We need to get alone.”

“Uh-huh. I need that, too. Probably more than you do. And the sooner the better.”



Vanni left Paul to tend to the horses while she rushed back to the house to check on the baby. It took him the better part of an hour to get them brushed down and stabled, the tack put away. He might’ve been dragging his feet a little when he went back to the house. By the time he got there, Walt was standing at the dining-room buffet fixing himself a short drink. Paul had lived with the man for months; even given the untimely death of his son-in-law, he hadn’t been a daytime drinker. If tragedy or depression didn’t drive him to the bottle, this had to be celebratory.

Walt turned, regarded Paul and lifted one bushy black eyebrow. “Fix you a little something to take the edge off, son?” he asked.

“Thank you, sir.” And mentally he added, “You dog.”

“Bourbon? Scotch? Canadian?”

“Crown?” Paul answered in question.

“My pleasure,” Walt said, selecting the bottle from the cabinet and pouring a short shot on ice. He passed it to Paul and said, “You didn’t do much undercover work in the Marine Corps, I guess.”

“No, sir.”

“Obviously.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to me winning the game I didn’t even know I was playing.”

“To you,” Paul said grudgingly.

After having a sip, Walt said, “I know you pretty well, Paul. Before today, I never had a doubt about you. So, I’ll only ask once—you plan to treat my daughter well?”

“Like solid gold, sir. Despite everything.”

“If you’re her choice, that’s good enough for me.” And he raised the glass again.

“Thank you, sir.”

“But really,” he said, chuckling. “You walked right into it.”

Vanni and her father were so alike it was scary. In addition, she had a fiery temper. And he asked himself, Do I want a general for a wife? The answer came quickly. Oh, yes. Oh my God, yes.





Eight




The general, knowing things had been resolved and were now heating up between Vanni and Paul, made himself scarce after dinner, leaving the reconciled lovebirds to the kitchen cleanup alone. But Tom didn’t have the facts and caught them in a serious lip-lock while they were supposed to be washing and drying dishes. Paul had Vanni pressed up against the sink, devouring her with yet another passionate kiss.

To Paul’s back, Tom said, “I guess this means you two have things worked out?”

Paul whispered in Vanni’s ear, “Get rid of him, will you? Please?”

“Go away, Tom,” she said a little breathlessly.

“About time, Paul. Really, I was beginning to think you were a little slow or something. I’m going to Brenda’s.”

“No curfew tonight,” Paul said, though his voice was muffled against Vanni’s neck. “Stay away all night if you want.”

There was the sound of laughter, then the closing of the front door, and Paul’s lips were on Vanni’s again.

“Vanni, honey,” Paul whispered. “Will you pack a bag for yourself and Mattie and come away with me in the morning? Come back to Oregon with me for a few days….”

“Hmm. Good idea.”

“We’ll leave very early,” he said. “Like in an hour…”

She laughed at him. “We’ll leave at nine. I don’t want to rush the baby….” She gave him a little kiss, then wiggled away from him, putting away the last plate. “I have to go give Mattie his bath, then get him settled for the night.”

Paul spent what seemed to be an interminable two and a half hours in front of CNN, unable to concentrate on a word of it. After an hour he got up and fixed himself a drink, asking the general if he could get him anything. But the general declined—probably because he didn’t have what was best described as bridegroom nerves. Paul was asking himself a hundred questions.

He had no idea if he was a good lover. How does a man know? He’d been pretty successful at getting the job done, satisfying the woman he was with before thinking of himself. He couldn’t remember any complaints, but he wasn’t a man who’d been with a lot of women. Not by comparison to some of his friends, for sure. And never with a woman like Vanni. And with Vanni, he didn’t want to merely satisfy her—he wanted to bond her to him forever with the greatest pleasure of her life. He wanted their coming together to be sweet for her. Sweet and powerful. Paul wanted her to know he could be an adequate husband.