“Absolutely,” Conner said. “I’d be happy to help.”
Paul looked at him a bit oddly. “Sometimes I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
Conner laughed. “You have no idea. Do you have the specs for the next kitchen job? Dan and I will get started tomorrow if the owners are ready.”
“Right here,” Paul said, handing over some rolled-up architectural plans. “You’ll tear out the existing kitchen in the next two to three days, get your flooring, raw cabinetry, granite cut to size, hardware and fixtures delivered over the next ten days. Make it happen.”
“Big job,” Conner said, looking through the plans.
“Good bid, too. We want to be on time. If you need help, let me know and I’ll send over extra crew. I want these folks happy. They have a lot of friends.”
“You bet.”
“And, Conner, I wanted to talk to you about something else.”
Conner lifted his eyebrows.
“Leslie,” Paul said. “She’s not here right now. She’s gone to Eureka for supplies for the office. But I wanted to talk to you about her.”
Conner thought for a minute and then said, “Shoot.”
Paul took a breath. Whatever it was, it wasn’t easy for him. “I like you. Brie vouches for you. Dan says you’re a good worker and conscientious. Dan trusts you and he’s a hard sell. I don’t have any reason to doubt you or suspect you, so it’s not about that. But Les has been almost a part of the family for ten years and she’s been through a lot lately. I don’t want her to go through a lot more.”
Conner gave a short nod. Word traveled fast; no surprise there. “Perfectly understandable. But you should talk to her, not me. Tell her what worries you, because I’m not looking to complicate anyone’s life.”
One corner of Paul’s mouth curved. “She seems happy.”
Conner almost smiled. “How about me? Do I seem happy?”
Paul laughed. “I couldn’t read you if my life depended on it.”
“Let me ask you something. Don’t read anything into this, but when you were dating your wife, did a lot of people question you? Have a lot of opinions about your motives and behavior? Your intentions? Before you were even sure yourself?”
That brought a really big laugh out of Paul. “Yeah,” he said. “Everybody and their brother. And have you met my father-in-law?” He shook his head with another laugh. He stood and stuck out a hand. “Good luck, buddy.”
Conner took the hand. “Thanks. I think.”
“Don’t mess her up.”
“She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who’s real fragile or neurotic. In fact, I think she’s the most normal woman I’ve dated. Ever.”
“I just hope you’re the most normal guy she’s ever dated,” Paul told him. “Because I met the last one, and she’s due a normal guy.”
April disappeared with a shower, and May arrived in the mountains with enough glowing sun to set the roadsides and hills on fire with color as the wildflowers took over. Conner borrowed Luke Riordan’s Harley and took Leslie on a ride through the hills one Sunday afternoon. They rode through the mountains out to the ocean cliffs, through the redwoods and down through vineyards.
They stopped for a while on a hilltop to enjoy a breathtaking view, but the view only occupied them for a little while, and soon they were reclined on the grass, making out like teenagers.
“You’re tempting,” he told her. “I could get you n**ed right here, but there’d be a risk.”
“Oh?”
“Well, there’s a road for one thing. We could get into each other, like we do, and not hear an approaching car or truck until it’s too late. Or, we could get fire ants in our underwear and really pay.”
“Let’s stop at the grocery, get a couple of filets, two potatoes, some mushrooms and asparagus and go home. You can grill the steak and asparagus and I’ll be in charge of the potatoes and mushrooms.”
“Deal,” he said, standing and helping her up.
Later, when they were enjoying an after-dinner libation—her Merlot and his beer—she said, “I hope this doesn’t scare you, but I can’t remember ever feeling this calm.”
“Why would that scare me?”
“I know you aren’t really into the idea of any kind of permanence. But I feel so much better than I can ever remember feeling.”
The idea of permanence sounded great. It just wasn’t a luxury he could afford at the moment. A lot had to be worked out first. “Why do you suppose that is?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m not dancing as fast as I can. Conner, I seriously didn’t realize how hard I had to work at my relationship with Greg. I was used to people saying marriage was hard work and I bought it. I don’t think I understood what they meant—I think what I didn’t get was that both people were supposed to be working at it, not just one of us.”
Oh, man, am I going to upset her calm world, Conner thought. “All couples are going to have issues,” he said. “We just haven’t had any lately.”
“Somehow I think it’s going to be different with you.”
“Why is that?”
“You seem to enjoy the calm as much as I do.”
He took a swig of beer. “Oh, baby, I do. But that doesn’t mean trouble won’t find me.”
She just shrugged, happily oblivious. “Well, I guess if something comes up, we’ll play the hand we’re dealt.”
I can’t put this off much longer, he found himself thinking. Even though he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, he knew he could trust Leslie with his life. He couldn’t help it, he’d wait just a little longer. Because the respite from the hard life was just too good to give up prematurely.
Jack Sheridan was wiping down the bar at about three-thirty in the afternoon when a man he’d never seen before came in. Nothing unusual in that—people were passing through all the time. But this guy wasn’t the usual—this guy was not a hunter, camper, fisherman or hiker. Not a mountain guy, but more of a Gentlemen’s Quarterly kind of guy. He wore a starched white shirt, open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up. He had pleated pants, fancy loafers and carried a sports coat or blazer or something.
“Hey,” Jack said amiably.
“Hi.” He jumped up on a stool. “Beer?”
“Absolutely. You have a preference?”
“Not really. Something imported?”
Jack laughed. “Sure thing,” he said, pulling a Heineken out of the cooler and popping the top. “Glass or bottle?”
“Chilled glass, please,” the man said. Then he pulled out his cell phone and thumbed through his panel of selections.
“You’re not going to have a lot of success with that. Our cell reception in town isn’t so good. Down 36 toward Fortuna it gets better. I have a landline, if that would help.”
“Do you mind? I have to call my wife.”
“In the kitchen, help yourself. Don’t let the cook scare you.” The man froze. “Kidding,” Jack said with a wry smile. “He looks a little scary, but he’s a pu**ycat. Honest.”
With a slight hesitation, he made his way to the kitchen. In just a couple of minutes he was back, and within seconds, Preacher was tailing him standing behind the bar next to Jack. Preacher’s white apron was a mess today, which made him look slightly scarier than usual, plus he was frowning darkly. It took Jack only a few seconds to decide Preacher hadn’t liked what he’d overheard the man saying on the phone or he wouldn’t be here.
Jack poured himself a cup of coffee and a seltzer for Preacher.
“So, I’m Jack. Passing through?”
The man immediately put out his hand, which was very soft and pretty. “Greg,” he said. “Yes, just here for an hour or so.”
“What kind of mission brings a man to Virgin River for an hour? Buying property for someone?” Because, surely not for himself.
“Well, not that it’s any of your business, but I want to talk to my wife. Ex-wife. She lives here. We have a couple of things to discuss and I thought a public place might be more agreeable to her than having me drop in on her. Unannounced.”
“Excellent idea,” Jack said.
Preacher crossed his arms over his chest. He glowered.
“She’ll be stopping by?” Jack asked.
“Hard to say,” Greg said. “We were disconnected.”
“Ah,” Jack said. That was fancy-man talk for she hung up on me. “Anyone I know?”
The man tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. Then he shot a quick glance at Preacher. He cleared his throat. “Leslie Adams.” He cleared his throat again. “Petruso. Leslie Petruso.”
“Ah, Leslie,” Jack said, grinning. “Sure. Good friend of ours, right, Preach?”
Preacher glared at the guy briefly, then turned and went back to the kitchen.
Now Jack wasn’t a genius, but he knew Preacher. This guy, Greg, must have said something ungentlemanly to Leslie to warrant Preacher following him back into the bar. And of course Jack knew this was the guy Leslie had nailed with the fire extinguisher. Jack would’ve paid to see that.
“Leslie’s well liked around here, as you might guess,” Jack said.
“She’s well liked everywhere,” he said. “I’ve been a little worried about her since she’s been down here. Alone.”
“She’s not alone, my friend. Paul Haggerty looks out for her, as do others. She seems to be getting along very well.”
“I heard she’s seeing someone,” Greg said. “I wonder, do you know who that might be?”
Jack decided to lie. “People don’t normally run their romances by me. Couldn’t tell you.”
Greg shook his head solemnly. “I wish she were back home. Where I could look after her better.”
“Unless I misunderstood you, pardner, not only are you divorced, you indicated she has someone new to look out for her now.”
“That’s not a good thing, Jack,” he said. “No one knows Leslie like I do.”
Jack gave the counter a nice, serious wipe-down. “Interesting that the two of you divorced. Sounds like you were pretty close.”
“We’re still close. We’ll always be close. You don’t spend almost ten years with a woman without being extremely bonded. That’s what we are, Jack. Bonded. Leslie needs me. Oh, sometimes she doesn’t want to admit it and I get that—I am remarried. But I know what’s good for Leslie even if she doesn’t.”
Jack was silent for a moment. A long moment. He was thinking about how his wife would make him pay for a comment like that, and they were still married. That wouldn’t float too well at his house. Mel didn’t like being “managed.” “You must be a very insightful man,” Jack said.
“I have my moments,” he said, lifting his beer to his lips.
Yeah, but I don’t think now is one of those moments, Jack thought.
Leslie answered the phone on her desk. “Haggerty Construction, Leslie speaking.”
“Leslie, it’s Greg. We need to talk.”
She took a deep breath. “Has there been a death in the family?” she asked crisply.
“No! Of course not!”
“Have you decided to give me a big pot of the money you hid while we were divorcing?”
“No! I mean, I didn’t—”
“Then we don’t have anything to talk about.”
“Leslie! Wait! Listen, I’ve been visiting with your parents!”
She was struck silent for a moment. “Whatever for?”
Paul looked at him a bit oddly. “Sometimes I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
Conner laughed. “You have no idea. Do you have the specs for the next kitchen job? Dan and I will get started tomorrow if the owners are ready.”
“Right here,” Paul said, handing over some rolled-up architectural plans. “You’ll tear out the existing kitchen in the next two to three days, get your flooring, raw cabinetry, granite cut to size, hardware and fixtures delivered over the next ten days. Make it happen.”
“Big job,” Conner said, looking through the plans.
“Good bid, too. We want to be on time. If you need help, let me know and I’ll send over extra crew. I want these folks happy. They have a lot of friends.”
“You bet.”
“And, Conner, I wanted to talk to you about something else.”
Conner lifted his eyebrows.
“Leslie,” Paul said. “She’s not here right now. She’s gone to Eureka for supplies for the office. But I wanted to talk to you about her.”
Conner thought for a minute and then said, “Shoot.”
Paul took a breath. Whatever it was, it wasn’t easy for him. “I like you. Brie vouches for you. Dan says you’re a good worker and conscientious. Dan trusts you and he’s a hard sell. I don’t have any reason to doubt you or suspect you, so it’s not about that. But Les has been almost a part of the family for ten years and she’s been through a lot lately. I don’t want her to go through a lot more.”
Conner gave a short nod. Word traveled fast; no surprise there. “Perfectly understandable. But you should talk to her, not me. Tell her what worries you, because I’m not looking to complicate anyone’s life.”
One corner of Paul’s mouth curved. “She seems happy.”
Conner almost smiled. “How about me? Do I seem happy?”
Paul laughed. “I couldn’t read you if my life depended on it.”
“Let me ask you something. Don’t read anything into this, but when you were dating your wife, did a lot of people question you? Have a lot of opinions about your motives and behavior? Your intentions? Before you were even sure yourself?”
That brought a really big laugh out of Paul. “Yeah,” he said. “Everybody and their brother. And have you met my father-in-law?” He shook his head with another laugh. He stood and stuck out a hand. “Good luck, buddy.”
Conner took the hand. “Thanks. I think.”
“Don’t mess her up.”
“She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who’s real fragile or neurotic. In fact, I think she’s the most normal woman I’ve dated. Ever.”
“I just hope you’re the most normal guy she’s ever dated,” Paul told him. “Because I met the last one, and she’s due a normal guy.”
April disappeared with a shower, and May arrived in the mountains with enough glowing sun to set the roadsides and hills on fire with color as the wildflowers took over. Conner borrowed Luke Riordan’s Harley and took Leslie on a ride through the hills one Sunday afternoon. They rode through the mountains out to the ocean cliffs, through the redwoods and down through vineyards.
They stopped for a while on a hilltop to enjoy a breathtaking view, but the view only occupied them for a little while, and soon they were reclined on the grass, making out like teenagers.
“You’re tempting,” he told her. “I could get you n**ed right here, but there’d be a risk.”
“Oh?”
“Well, there’s a road for one thing. We could get into each other, like we do, and not hear an approaching car or truck until it’s too late. Or, we could get fire ants in our underwear and really pay.”
“Let’s stop at the grocery, get a couple of filets, two potatoes, some mushrooms and asparagus and go home. You can grill the steak and asparagus and I’ll be in charge of the potatoes and mushrooms.”
“Deal,” he said, standing and helping her up.
Later, when they were enjoying an after-dinner libation—her Merlot and his beer—she said, “I hope this doesn’t scare you, but I can’t remember ever feeling this calm.”
“Why would that scare me?”
“I know you aren’t really into the idea of any kind of permanence. But I feel so much better than I can ever remember feeling.”
The idea of permanence sounded great. It just wasn’t a luxury he could afford at the moment. A lot had to be worked out first. “Why do you suppose that is?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m not dancing as fast as I can. Conner, I seriously didn’t realize how hard I had to work at my relationship with Greg. I was used to people saying marriage was hard work and I bought it. I don’t think I understood what they meant—I think what I didn’t get was that both people were supposed to be working at it, not just one of us.”
Oh, man, am I going to upset her calm world, Conner thought. “All couples are going to have issues,” he said. “We just haven’t had any lately.”
“Somehow I think it’s going to be different with you.”
“Why is that?”
“You seem to enjoy the calm as much as I do.”
He took a swig of beer. “Oh, baby, I do. But that doesn’t mean trouble won’t find me.”
She just shrugged, happily oblivious. “Well, I guess if something comes up, we’ll play the hand we’re dealt.”
I can’t put this off much longer, he found himself thinking. Even though he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, he knew he could trust Leslie with his life. He couldn’t help it, he’d wait just a little longer. Because the respite from the hard life was just too good to give up prematurely.
Jack Sheridan was wiping down the bar at about three-thirty in the afternoon when a man he’d never seen before came in. Nothing unusual in that—people were passing through all the time. But this guy wasn’t the usual—this guy was not a hunter, camper, fisherman or hiker. Not a mountain guy, but more of a Gentlemen’s Quarterly kind of guy. He wore a starched white shirt, open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up. He had pleated pants, fancy loafers and carried a sports coat or blazer or something.
“Hey,” Jack said amiably.
“Hi.” He jumped up on a stool. “Beer?”
“Absolutely. You have a preference?”
“Not really. Something imported?”
Jack laughed. “Sure thing,” he said, pulling a Heineken out of the cooler and popping the top. “Glass or bottle?”
“Chilled glass, please,” the man said. Then he pulled out his cell phone and thumbed through his panel of selections.
“You’re not going to have a lot of success with that. Our cell reception in town isn’t so good. Down 36 toward Fortuna it gets better. I have a landline, if that would help.”
“Do you mind? I have to call my wife.”
“In the kitchen, help yourself. Don’t let the cook scare you.” The man froze. “Kidding,” Jack said with a wry smile. “He looks a little scary, but he’s a pu**ycat. Honest.”
With a slight hesitation, he made his way to the kitchen. In just a couple of minutes he was back, and within seconds, Preacher was tailing him standing behind the bar next to Jack. Preacher’s white apron was a mess today, which made him look slightly scarier than usual, plus he was frowning darkly. It took Jack only a few seconds to decide Preacher hadn’t liked what he’d overheard the man saying on the phone or he wouldn’t be here.
Jack poured himself a cup of coffee and a seltzer for Preacher.
“So, I’m Jack. Passing through?”
The man immediately put out his hand, which was very soft and pretty. “Greg,” he said. “Yes, just here for an hour or so.”
“What kind of mission brings a man to Virgin River for an hour? Buying property for someone?” Because, surely not for himself.
“Well, not that it’s any of your business, but I want to talk to my wife. Ex-wife. She lives here. We have a couple of things to discuss and I thought a public place might be more agreeable to her than having me drop in on her. Unannounced.”
“Excellent idea,” Jack said.
Preacher crossed his arms over his chest. He glowered.
“She’ll be stopping by?” Jack asked.
“Hard to say,” Greg said. “We were disconnected.”
“Ah,” Jack said. That was fancy-man talk for she hung up on me. “Anyone I know?”
The man tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. Then he shot a quick glance at Preacher. He cleared his throat. “Leslie Adams.” He cleared his throat again. “Petruso. Leslie Petruso.”
“Ah, Leslie,” Jack said, grinning. “Sure. Good friend of ours, right, Preach?”
Preacher glared at the guy briefly, then turned and went back to the kitchen.
Now Jack wasn’t a genius, but he knew Preacher. This guy, Greg, must have said something ungentlemanly to Leslie to warrant Preacher following him back into the bar. And of course Jack knew this was the guy Leslie had nailed with the fire extinguisher. Jack would’ve paid to see that.
“Leslie’s well liked around here, as you might guess,” Jack said.
“She’s well liked everywhere,” he said. “I’ve been a little worried about her since she’s been down here. Alone.”
“She’s not alone, my friend. Paul Haggerty looks out for her, as do others. She seems to be getting along very well.”
“I heard she’s seeing someone,” Greg said. “I wonder, do you know who that might be?”
Jack decided to lie. “People don’t normally run their romances by me. Couldn’t tell you.”
Greg shook his head solemnly. “I wish she were back home. Where I could look after her better.”
“Unless I misunderstood you, pardner, not only are you divorced, you indicated she has someone new to look out for her now.”
“That’s not a good thing, Jack,” he said. “No one knows Leslie like I do.”
Jack gave the counter a nice, serious wipe-down. “Interesting that the two of you divorced. Sounds like you were pretty close.”
“We’re still close. We’ll always be close. You don’t spend almost ten years with a woman without being extremely bonded. That’s what we are, Jack. Bonded. Leslie needs me. Oh, sometimes she doesn’t want to admit it and I get that—I am remarried. But I know what’s good for Leslie even if she doesn’t.”
Jack was silent for a moment. A long moment. He was thinking about how his wife would make him pay for a comment like that, and they were still married. That wouldn’t float too well at his house. Mel didn’t like being “managed.” “You must be a very insightful man,” Jack said.
“I have my moments,” he said, lifting his beer to his lips.
Yeah, but I don’t think now is one of those moments, Jack thought.
Leslie answered the phone on her desk. “Haggerty Construction, Leslie speaking.”
“Leslie, it’s Greg. We need to talk.”
She took a deep breath. “Has there been a death in the family?” she asked crisply.
“No! Of course not!”
“Have you decided to give me a big pot of the money you hid while we were divorcing?”
“No! I mean, I didn’t—”
“Then we don’t have anything to talk about.”
“Leslie! Wait! Listen, I’ve been visiting with your parents!”
She was struck silent for a moment. “Whatever for?”
