Temptation Ridge (Virgin River #6)(122)

“Been there,” Aiden agreed. After all, he’d married a woman because of tunnel vision. “And that’s when you started to lose interest?”

He was quiet for a second. “You don’t lose interest in someone like Shelby. No matter how hard you try.”

Aiden took a chance. “Been a while since you felt something like that, I guess.”

Luke leveled his gaze across the table at Aiden. “I know what you’re doing. I don’t want to spend a lot of time talking about this. I don’t need the aggravation. What I need is time.”

“You fell hard,” Aiden said.

“It happens. Now, that’s enough.”

“I just want to be sure you’re going to be able to move on without…” His voice trailed off.

“Without going completely crazy? Listen, I think I learned a few things, Aiden. This is as bad as it’s going to get. Until it gets better. Leave it alone.”

“Damn shame you couldn’t just go with it, Luke. There’s at least a fifty-percent chance you’re all wrong about her, about yourself, about the way the whole thing could turn out. You might’ve been happy every day of your stupid life, and now you’re just working on getting over her.”

“There’s the thing, Aiden. Fifty-percent chance one of us is right. We just don’t know which one.”

After breakfast the next morning, Aiden threw his duffel in his car, shook his brother’s hand and said, “Go after her, Luke. Tell her the truth, that it scares you to death but you want her.”

Luke just smiled. “Thanks for coming, Aiden. I know you only want to help. Drive carefully.”



It was almost time for Shelby to leave Maui, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready and was considering another week before embarking on San Francisco. She didn’t know if the rest and sunshine was helping or if it would be better to take on a new challenge.

She’d packed everything at her uncle’s, loaded the Jeep and drove to San Francisco to fly to Hawaii so she wouldn’t have go back to Virgin River to pick up her car, her things. Her Jeep was in the long-term lot at the airport, waiting for her next step toward that new life, the one that didn’t interest her at all. The tall trees and mountains called her and the noisy din of the city didn’t sound appealing. Nothing could be as good as the quiet, the clear sky, the natural beauty that had surrounded her. She missed the horses. She missed so much…

She had chosen her vacation accommodations carefully—a hotel on the beach with a decent restaurant. She thought she’d do a little sightseeing around the island, but hadn’t. Reading a lot was part of her plan, but for the first time in her memory, her mind wandered too much to escape into good fiction. Even when her mother had been at her worst, she had been able to read; it had brought her great comfort to fall into a good story. The hotel restaurant was exceptional, but she still yearned for some of Preacher’s food and a blazing hearth, the laughter of friends, the touch of a lover’s hand under the table. Except for breakfast, most of her meals were delivered to her by room service. She was very alone, hidden behind her dark glasses, which was the way she wanted it.

Every day she walked along the beach as far as she could go, sometimes for a couple of hours. She’d lounge on a chaise on the beach and soak up the sun, sometimes relax under a cabana, her eyes closed so she looked as if she was napping. Resting. But she was bleeding inside. If anyone looked closely, they’d catch the occasional tear rolling into the hair at her temples. The crying—it was so much more than she’d imagined it could be. She was so busy holding it together while she was around her uncle and cousin, she’d had no idea how much emotion she’d been struggling with. The crying started as soon as the plane’s landing gear came up and in spite of her best efforts, she sobbed half the way to Hawaii. Luck was on her side and she was seated next to a kindhearted older woman who put an arm around her and said, “Oh, darling, there’s no mistaking a broken heart.”

The best fiction in the history of the world had not adequately conveyed just how much a broken heart could hurt or how much crying was involved. It was a kind of death made worse by the fact that there hadn’t been a death at all, unless you accounted for the demise of perfect happiness.

“Beautiful day,” a man’s voice said.

She turned her head to see him sitting on the chaise right beside her. There were dozens of available chairs on the beach and around the pool and yet he had to choose this one. “Beautiful,” she said quietly, turning her head back, trying to ignore him.

“I hear it rains here all the time. Have you seen much rain?”

“Please,” she said. “I was napping.”

“Think you’ll be done napping by dinnertime? I’d love to take you to dinner.”

She turned her head, lifted her glasses and said, “No, thank you.” Again she turned away.

“Then maybe I could buy you a drink? A mai tai or Bloody Mary?”

Without looking at him she said, “Do I have to move? Or will you?”

He chuckled. “Nothing shy about that, Shelby.”

She jumped in surprise, sitting up a little. “Did someone tell you my name?” she said, stricken. The last thing she needed right now was to feel at some kind of risk. She was alone here, depending on the hotel staff to be sure she’d be completely safe.