Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(116)

“Hmm,” she said, leaning against him. “My feelings won’t be hurt if you want to hang out with your boys.”

“They’ll probably be around a day or two. Since they came all this way, they’ll want to fish and stink up my bar. Fishing’s starting to get good.” He put an arm around Mel and walked her through the back of the bar. “We need to give the baby a nap.”

“We need to give the baby’s father a shower,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

While Jack showered, Mel put on one of his shirts, her favorite soft chambray. She curled up on the sofa with one of Jack’s magazines in her lap, flipping through the pages. She would have to find something better than Field and Stream, she decided.

She could hear the raucous laughter from the bar; she could almost smell the cigar smoke, but it made her smile. These were good people—people who came running when they thought there was a possible danger. Jack’s friends, the people in town—they knew the meaning of being neighbors.

She had only known the neighbors on each side of her in L.A. With Mark’s long hours, they didn’t socialize as much as she’d have liked. And big cities can be less friendly. Everyone was so focused on work, on making money, on buying things. Mel used to concentrate on that, as well. Besides that Hummer, which she’d needed for work and was as much for the town as herself, she’d hardly bought a thing in six months. She patted her tummy—she would have to buy clothes soon—she couldn’t get her jeans closed. As she thought about it, she didn’t crave any particular label. It made her smile. Lately, she didn’t recognize herself. She was not the same woman who nearly slid off the mountain six months ago.

Jack came out of the shower, a towel around his waist, rubbing dry his short hair with another one. He tossed the second towel and went to his bed, lifting the covers and inclining his head toward her. She put aside the magazine and went to him. As she slipped in, she said, “You’re sure you don’t want to play poker and make yourself smell disgusting? They’re going to keep us up all night anyway.”

He dropped his towel and got in beside her. “You’re kidding, right?” He scooped her up next to him and she snuggled close.

“Have I told you how much I like sleeping with you?” she asked him. “You sleep very well. And you don’t snore. But I think maybe you wake up too early.”

“I like the mornings.”

“I can’t fit in my pants already,” she said. She lifted herself up and with her elbows resting on his chest said, “You call them and they just come.”

“I only called one of them—Mike in L.A.—he called the others. They’re just like that. And if any of them called—I’d go.” He smiled at her. “I never expected a posse like that to turn out. Says something about the way people feel about you.”

“But you didn’t actually find anyone scary out there.”

“I liked what I found. I wasn’t willing to take any chances, and neither was anyone else. The same thing would happen for any other crisis—like a bear mauling or a forest fire or someone lost in the woods. People band up, go out and take care of the problem if they can. What else are you going to do?”

She played idly with his damp chest hair. “That look you get when you’re facing off with someone or something, do you have any idea how dark it is? You might want to keep that look in the closet—it’s disturbing.”

“I want to tell you something,” he said. “I asked your sister all about your husband. Mark.”

“You did?”

“Yep. I understand he was a great man. A brilliant man—and kind. He did a lot of good in the world, and he was good to you. I have a lot of respect for him.”

“She didn’t tell me this.”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this to you. I might muck it up, but you have to listen. A couple of weeks ago I let you cry alone, because I was pissed. I caught you talking to his picture and I got threatened. Threatened by a dead man, which makes me a true candy-ass.” He touched her hair. “I won’t ever do that again, Mel. I understand why you love him, why you’ll always—”

“Jack—”

“No, I’m going to do this, and you’re going to listen. I know you didn’t want your life to change the way it did, and you couldn’t control it. Just like you can’t control what you feel. You don’t have to pretend you don’t think about him, or miss him. And if you have those moments when you’re sad, when you wish you could have him back in your life, you can be honest with me. You don’t have to pretend it’s PMS.” He smiled. “We both know you don’t have PMS anymore.”

“Jack, what are you talking about?”

“I just want one thing. If I can be a sport about the fact that he’ll always be an important part of your life, can you try to not be sorry that we’re together, having this baby? Because I have to tell you, I’ve never been more ready for anything. I’ll do my best not to be jealous. I realize I’m not your first choice, but your next choice. That’s good enough for me, and I’m sorry someone died. I’m sorry for your loss, Mel.”

“Why are you saying this? It’s such nonsense.”

“It’s what I heard,” he said. “I heard you saying you were sorry you were pregnant, that it just happened, and you promised not to forget him.”