Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(54)

“You want ice or water with that?” he asked her.

“No, this is good. Very good, in fact.”

She sipped her drink rather too quickly. She looked up at him, tilted her head to one side, then inclined it toward the glass.

“You sure? Because I think maybe that’s enough. Your cheeks are flushed and I can tell, you’re not cold anymore.”

“Just a tish.”

A tish was what she got—a couple of swallows.

“Thanks for taking me fishing,” she said. “Sorry you didn’t get in my pants again.”

A large surprised laugh escaped him. She was getting a little tiddly. “That’s okay, Melinda. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Aha! I knew it!”

“Like it’s been hard to tell.”

“You’re so transparent.” She downed the rest of her drink. “I’d better get going. I’m completely shot.” She stood up and nearly fell down. She grabbed at the bar to right herself and Jack came around to her side. He put an arm around her waist. She looked up at him with watery eyes and said, “Damn. I forgot to eat.”

“Let me make you some coffee,” he suggested.

“And ruin this perfectly good buzz? Hell, I’ve earned it.” She took a step and wavered. “Besides, I don’t think it’ll make me sober. Probably just wide-awake drunk.”

Jack tightened his hold around her and laughed in spite of himself. “All right, Mel. I can put you in my bed and take the couch…”

“But sometimes I have deer in my yard in the morning,” she said, a little whiny. “I want to go home. They might come back.”

Home. That sounded good to Jack, that she thought of that cabin as her home. “All right, Mel. I’ll take you home.”

“That’s a relief,” she said. “Because I’m pretty sure I already can’t drive. Even on a straight and undangerous road.”

“You’re a lightweight,” he said.

They took a couple of steps and her legs buckled a second time. He gave a sigh and bent to lift her into his arms. She patted his chest. “It’s good that you’re strong,” she said. “You’re good to have around. It’s like having my own personal valet.”

He chuckled under his breath. Preacher had gone upstairs for the night so he turned off the Open sign and managed to get his keys out of his pocket without dropping her. He locked the front door and took her down the steps and around to the back of the bar where he kept his truck. He put her in and she managed, though with some difficulty, to buckle her seat belt. When he got in and started the truck she said, “You know something, Jack? You’ve turned out to be my very good friend.”

“That’s nice, Mel.”

“I really appreciate this. Boy, whew. I’m sure not much of a drinker. I think I’m a one-beer girl. Two if I’ve had a side of beef and an apple pie.”

“I think you’ve assessed the situation correctly.”

“If I ask for the good stuff again, be sure to ask me if I’ve had food.”

“Sure will,” he said.

She laid her head back on the seat. Within five minutes, it lolled. And Jack spent the rest of the drive wondering a couple of things. One—what if she roused enough as he was taking her inside to invite him to stay? That would be okay, wouldn’t it? Even though she was just a “tish” disadvantaged? Or—what if she didn’t rouse and he just lay down beside her to be there in case she woke and decided it was time? That would be okay. Or maybe he could just wait on her couch, in case she needed anything…like sex. Then if she woke up during the night he’d be there. He’d be ready. He’d been ready.

He played a dozen scenarios in his mind. He would carry her to her room and she would wake and say, “Stay with me tonight.” He really didn’t have the strength to say no. Or, she would wake and he would kiss her and then she would say, “Okay.” Or morning would come, he would already be there and she would say, “Now, Jack.” Whoo boy. He was getting a little warm.

But she was still asleep when he pulled up in front of her cabin. He unbuckled her and lifted her out of the truck. He whacked her head on the door frame. “Ow!” she yelled, her hand going to her head.

“Sorry,” he said. And thought to himself, foreplay that was not.

“S’okay.” She laid her head back on his shoulder.

Now, he thought, I should stay to be sure she doesn’t have a concussion. And that she doesn’t need sex for it. Or just to be there in case she did…

He carried her across the porch, through the door to her room and, flipping on the light, laid her on the bed. Without opening her eyes she said, “Thank you, Jack.”

“You’re welcome, Melinda,” he said. “Your head okay?”

“What head?”

“Okay. Let’s get your boots off.”

“Boots. Off.” She lifted a leg, making him laugh. He pulled the boot off. The leg dropped and the other one came up. He pulled that one off and the leg dropped. Then she curled into a cute little package, pulling the quilt around her. He looked down at her and saw that it was lights out for Melinda. Then he saw the picture.

Something hit him, and it didn’t feel particularly good. He picked up the picture and looked at the man’s face. So, you’re the guy, he thought. He didn’t look like a bad guy—but clearly he had done something to Mel. Something she was having trouble getting beyond. Maybe he’d left her for another woman—but that seemed impossible to imagine. Maybe he left her for a man. Oh, please let it be so—I can make that better—just give me five minutes. Or maybe he looked harmless but had been an impossible asshole and she’d broken off with him, but still loved him helplessly. And here she had his picture right there, to be the last face she saw before falling asleep at night.