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Patrick Riordan always thought that nothing could match the adrenaline rush he gets from his job. But this Christmas, Patrick’s pulse is really racing...

The Riordan brothers may have a reputation for being rough-and-tumble, but Patrick has always been the gentle, sweet-natured one. These days, his easygoing manner is being tested by his high-octane career as a navy pilot. But for the Riordan brothers, when the going gets tough…the tough find the love of a good woman.

Except the woman who has caught Patrick’s attention is Jack Sheridan’s very attractive niece.

Angie LeCroix comes to Virgin River to spend Christmas relaxing, away from her well-intentioned but hovering mother. Yet instead of freedom, she gets Jack Sheridan. If her uncle had his way, she’d never go out again. And certainly not with rugged, handsome Patrick Riordan. But Angie has her own idea of the kind of Christmas she wants—and the kind of man!

Patrick and Angie thought they wanted to be left alone this Christmas—until they meet each other. Then they want to be left alone together. But the Sheridan and Riordan families have different plans for Patrick and Angie—and for Christmas, Virgin River–style!

Praise for #1 New York Times bestselling author

and USA TODAY bestselling author

“This book is an utter delight.”

—RT Book Reviews on Moonlight Road

“Strong conflict, humor and well-written characters are Carr’s calling cards, and they’re all present here....You won’t want to put this one down.”

—RT Book Reviews on Angel’s Peak

“This story has everything: a courageous, outspoken heroine, a to-die-for hero and a plot that will touch readers’ hearts on several different levels. Truly excellent.”

—RT Book Reviews on Forbidden Falls

“An intensely satisfying read. By turns humorous and gut-wrenchingly emotional, it won’t soon be forgotten.”

—RT Book Reviews on Paradise Valley

“Carr has hit her stride with this captivating series.”

—Library Journal on the Virgin River series

“The Virgin River books are so compelling—I connected instantly with the characters and just wanted more and more and more.”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

My Kind of Christmas

Robyn Carr

www.mirabooks.co.uk

For Goesel Anson, MD, who walks in kindness and beauty and changes the lives of so many. With appreciation and deep affection.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Acknowledgments

Excerpt

One

“I think a little vacation in Virgin River is exactly what Angie needs,” Sam Sheridan announced as he looked around the table at his family, all gathered at his home for Thanksgiving dinner. Angie gave her grandfather a grateful smile, relieved to finally have someone on her side. “She’s been through quite an ordeal,” Sam continued, “and I think medical school can wait while she figures things out. A little rest and relaxation—a chance to visit with the rest of the family—it will do her worlds of good.”

“Well, I think if anyone knows what’s good for Angie, it’s me,” Donna replied sternly, glaring daggers at her father. “A visit with Jack, Mel and Brie sounds all well and good, but I’m her mother, and I’ve supported her from the day she was born. A vacation should be the furthest thing from her mind right now. The accident—” She hesitated, glancing over at Angie. “Well, let’s be honest, Angie—the accident has really…affected you. There’s nothing that needs ‘figuring out.’ You need to get back on track academically as soon as possible. That’s where your focus should be. That’s where it was before.”

Before. It seemed for Angie as though things would forever be divided into life before the accident and life afterward. While there wasn’t much that she remembered from the car accident itself, there were certainly a few moments that stuck out in her mind. She remembered how close she came to dying that cold, drizzly March evening, lying in an emergency room covered with blood, and that it was her long-dead grandmother who was attempting to help her cross to the other side. She hadn’t told anyone in her family about that little detail. Why bother? Some of them already thought she was half-crazy.

On the day of the accident, Angie had been the passenger in a car with her friend. A car on the opposing interstate lane had lost control, crossed the median and hit two oncoming cars—including the one Angie had been traveling in. The crash could’ve been caused by a flat tire or from the driver’s attempt to avoid another car, but there was no clear villain, no alcohol or drugs to blame. It was truly an accident.

The driver of the other car had been killed, everyone else injured, Angie the worst. She’d suffered a couple of serious fractures for which surgery had been required. She also lost her spleen, had a collapsed lung and a titanium rod had been placed in her left femur. But the big issue had been the head injury—there had been an impressive laceration on the back of her head and, while there was no open fracture, her brain began to swell and the neurosurgeon had needed to implant a shunt to drain the edema. After her surgery, Angie had been in a coma for three days and had to fight her way back to the world through a postanesthetic and pain-med haze. Friends, family and medical experts had wondered for weeks if this bright, driven young medical student would have any mental handicaps as a result.

She did not.

However, as often happens, the experience changed Angie forever. And those changes were what had led to the current impasse between Angie and her mother, a university professor who wanted to see Angie back in med school as quickly as possible. Today, Angie was fully recovered from her accident and could have gone back to school in September, but she’d chosen not to.

“Well, maybe a brief break from school is within reason,” her father, Bob, said to Donna cautiously, once the rest of the family was happily starting dessert and the three of them had offered to start the dishes in the kitchen. Angie rolled her eyes. She knew he’d remain on the fence to avoid an argument with her mother.

But Donna wasn’t nearly so reserved with her opinion. “This is completely unacceptable, Angie,” she said stiffly. “You’ve worked far too hard to reach this point in your studies, and we’ve contributed far too much for you to waste it all on a whim.”

Angie was shocked and suddenly angry. Concern was one thing, but this? She was done having her parents, mostly her mother, decide things like this for her. “I might not want to continue medical school! I might want to make macramé flower pot holders for the rest of my life! Or grow herbs! Or hitchhike across Europe! I don’t know what I want to do right now, but whatever it is, it’s going to be up to me!”

“Don’t be absurd,” Donna announced in her typically dismissive way. “You’re not yourself at all right now. It’s obvious the accident has affected your personality more than you realize, Angie. Once you get back to school, you’ll be yourself again.”

Personality change? Angie didn’t agree, except that she’d grown surprisingly stubborn. “Actually, I think I’ve finally found my personality. And you know what, Mom? I think it’s remarkably like yours.”

If the accident had any affect at all, it had been through a close-up view of how unpredictable and tenuous life could be. One minute you’re buzzing along the freeway, singing along to the radio, the next you’re looking down on yourself, watching as medical staff frantically work to save your life and you see your dead grandmother across a chasm of light.

Once she realized she had barely survived, every day dawned brighter, the air drawn into her lungs more precious, the beat of her heart lighter despite the colossal importance of what had happened. She was filled with a sense of gratitude and became contemplative, viewing the smallest detail of living with huge significance. Things she had previously taken for granted now took on a greater significance. There was no detail she was willing to miss: she stopped to have long conversations with grocery-store bag boys, corner flower peddlers, librarians, booksellers and school crossing guards. In short, life was different now for Angie, and she was enjoying every minute of it.

She’d also looked back at the life she’d lived so far and had some regrets—specifically about dedicating so much time to study that she had few friends. Many study partners, but only a few friends. She’d said no to far too many parties and dances for the sake of grades. For God’s sake, she was already twenty-three and she’d had only two boyfriends! Both pretty inadequate, come to think of it. Was life all about books? Didn’t well-rounded adults know how to play? While her few girlfriends were dating, traveling, exploring, getting engaged, what was Angie doing? Making Mama proud.

She was going to fix that if she could. “Mom, I love you, but I’ve made my decision. Medical school can wait. I’m going to Virgin River.”

* * *

Angela LaCroix pulled up to Jack’s Bar on the day after Thanksgiving and parked right next to her aunt Brie’s car. She gave a double toot of her horn before she jumped out and dashed up the steps and into the bar. There they were, waiting for her—Jack, Mel and Brie. Angie’s smile was so big she thought her face might crack.

“You made it,” Jack said. He rushed around the bar and picked her up in his embrace. Then he put her on her feet and said, “I thought you might be bound, gagged and held prisoner in Sacramento.”

“It didn’t get physical,” she said with a laugh. “However, Mom isn’t speaking to any of you.”

“That’s a relief,” Jack said. “Then she won’t be calling five times a day.”

“Come here, kitten,” Brie said, edging Jack out of the way to hug Angie. Then Mel jumped off her stool and joined the hug. “It’s so good to have you here,” Brie said. “Your mom will come around.”

“Fat chance,” Jack said. “I don’t know anyone who can hold a grudge longer than Donna.”

“I hope I didn’t cause a rift in the whole family,” Angie said.

Jack walked back around behind the bar. “Sheridans,” he grumbled. “We hang together pretty well in tough times, but we’ve been known to have a lot of differences of opinion. Bottom line is, you’re welcome here anytime. You always have a place at my house.”

“And mine,” Brie said.

Angie chewed her lower lip for a moment. “Okay, here’s the thing. I appreciate it, I do, and I plan to spend a lot of time with you, but I was wondering, hoping, that you wouldn’t mind letting me use that little cabin in the woods.” She took a breath. “I need some space. Honest to God.”

Silence hung in the air. “Is that a fact?” Jack finally said.

Angie took a stool and her two aunts automatically framed her on their own stools. “That is a fact. Space…and I wouldn’t mind a beer. And maybe some takeout. It was a long drive.”

Jack served up a beer, very slowly. “There’s no TV out there,” he said.

“Good. But there’s an internet connection, right?”

“It’s slow, Ange,” Mel pointed out. “Not as slow as dial-up was, but it’s finicky. The internet connection in our guesthouse is much—”

“I think it’s an outstanding idea,” Brie said, smiling at Angie. “Try it out. If it gets a little too quiet, I have a guest room and Mel has the guesthouse.”

“Thanks, Brie.”

“Hey, when you’re running away from home, you should at least have your choice of accommodations,” Brie added.

“I’m not really running away.... Well, okay, I guess that is what I’m doing. Thanks, you guys. Seriously, thanks.”

Mel laughed. “It’s not exactly an original idea. Brie and I both landed here because we were running away from stuff. I’m going to go get Preacher and Paige. They’ve been so anxious to see you. And I’ll call your folks to tell them you made it here safely.”

“You had no trouble driving?” Jack asked.

“I like driving, but my dad insisted we swap cars. I have his SUV and he has my little Honda,” she said. “But I wasn’t nervous. Maybe because I don’t remember the accident.”

But Angie didn’t want to dwell on what had happened. She was here to relax, to escape, to move forward with her life. Changing the subject, she asked, “And did everyone have a great Thanksgiving?”

“I might never eat again,” Brie said. “How about you?”

“We were all at Grandpa’s and it was good, except for a little melodrama about me leaving for a month. Between the aunts, uncles and cousins there seems to be quite a diversity of opinion on how I should live my life.”

“I imagine. And what did Sam say?” Brie asked of her father.

“Grandpa thought it was an excellent idea to come up here for a little while and he reminded us all that you did that yourself, Brie.”

“And you know what? He was very supportive and encouraging at the time, even though he was at least as worried about me as your parents are about you. He had guessed I was in love. Your grandpa is a pretty modern, savvy guy.”

“Yes,” Angie said quietly. She was close to Sam Sheridan and had often wished, over the past nine months, that she could tell him she had seen Grandma and that she had looked wonderful. But she wasn’t sure she hadn’t been dreaming or hallucinating, and second, Grandma had been gone such a long time. She didn’t want to stir up grief in her grandpa.

Preacher came out of the kitchen with a look of stun and awe on his face as he pulled off his apron and tossed it over the bar before grabbing Angie up in his big arms, spinning her right off her stool. “Aw, girl, girl, girl,” he said, hugging her tight. Then he held her away and looked her over. “You are beautiful!” And then he had to let go of her to wipe his eyes.

“Preach,” she said, laughing.

Paige slipped around her husband, giving Angie a warm hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said softly.

“Your big scary husband is crying.”

“I know,” she said. “He’s such a softie. He’s the last person you want to meet in a dark alley, but he’s so tenderhearted. He cries at Disney movies and Hallmark commercials.”

“Yesterday I cried over football,” he said. “It was pathetic all day. I’m just so damn glad to see you, Ange. Your uncle Jack was a mess while you were in the hospital, he was so worried.”

“And as you can see, all is well,” she said.

“Mel says you want a takeout. I’ll make you anything you want—you just tell me what.”

“I’ll have whatever’s on the menu and a bottle of wine. Do you have any sauvignon blanc?”

“Are you sure you’re allowed alcohol?” Jack asked.

“Yes,” she said with a laugh, holding up her glass. “Hence the beer I’m drinking. I promise not to get wasted. But, gee, some of Preacher’s dinner, a glass of wine, a fire, a book, peace and quiet… Oh, Jack, there are logs out there, right?”

“You’re all set,” he said. “Do you know how to light the fire?”

She rolled her eyes. “Preacher, do you suppose I could do a little graze through your kitchen? Grab some staples—a few eggs, some milk, bread, that sort of thing? In case I wake up starving?”

“Absolutely,” he said.

Although it was soft and low, Angie heard someone clear his throat. There, at the end of the bar in the corner was a lone man in an army-green, down-padded jacket. He had dark hair, an empty beer glass and some money in his hand.

Jack turned to him, took his money and said, “Thanks, bud. See you around.”

“Have a nice reunion,” the man said, moving to leave.

He was so tall—that was what Angie noticed first. As tall as her uncle Jack. And his dark hair had some red in it. Dark auburn. She’d never seen that combination before, unless it was on a woman and had come out of a bottle. Usually red shades were found in blond or light brown hair. The stubble on his cheeks had a tinge of red, too.

As he walked toward the door, their eyes met and Angie felt her cheeks grow warm—he’d caught her staring. He had the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. They had to be contacts. He gave her a half smile and then he turned and was gone.

“Wow,” she said. “Whew. Who’s the hottie?”

Brie laughed and said, “I think our girl is fully recovered.”

Jack let go a little growl. “He’s not the one for you,” he said.

Angie looked around at all the smiling faces—Brie, Paige, Preacher.... “Gee, did I ask if he was right for me?”

Preacher chortled loudly, another thing the big cook seldom did. “Patrick Riordan,” he told her. “He’s here sitting out a little leave. He’s Navy. I think he got hurt or something.”

“Nah, he didn’t get hurt,” Jack clarified. “Luke said there was an accident during his last deployment and he decided to take a little leave or something. Riordans, good people, but that one’s got troubles right now. You might want to give him a wide berth. I don’t know all the details, but it sounds like combat issues....”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want to get mixed up with anyone with combat issues,” Preacher joked. And Jack glared at him. Preacher put a big hand on Angie’s shoulder and said, “He’s been kind of quiet and grumpy while he’s been in town. If you got to know him a little, you know what? I bet he wouldn’t cheer you up that much.”

That made Angie laugh. “Well, how about that—we both had accidents. Now, what’s for dinner, Preach?”

“Big surprise, turkey soup. It’ll keep you very healthy. I boiled two carcasses all day. Homemade noodles—the best. Even though it’s not raining, I baked bread.”

Her mouth began to water. “I’m in.”

Mel came from the kitchen. “I called Donna,” she said. “Your mom would like you to email her when you’re settled tonight and she promises to give you a little space to find yourself. She suggests you look at your med school transcripts.”

Angie rolled her eyes. “Dropping out of school was far harder on Professor LaCroix than it was on me,” Angie said. “I’ve never felt so free in my life.”

After a little more small talk, and her beer finished, soup, bread and wine packed up along with some groceries from the kitchen, sun lowering in the sky, Angie was ready to head for the cabin. They stood around outside for a minute and Jack kissed her forehead. “Do whatever you want tomorrow, pumpkin, but remember if you decide to stay in your pajamas all day you’ll miss the raising of the Christmas tree.”

“You’re putting it up tomorrow?”

He gave a nod. “It’s a tradition. A bunch of us went out and chopped it down this morning. It’s loaded on one of Paul’s biggest trucks. He’ll meet us in town with the rest of his equipment tomorrow and we’ll stand her up.”

Mel gave her arm a pat. “It’s not as much fun now that construction professionals are involved,” she said. “It hardly ever falls and crushes whole buildings.”

Brie hugged Angie hard. “I’m so glad you’re here for a long visit.”

Almost teary, all Angie could do was nod. Of all her aunts, she was closest to Brie. Brie had been only twelve when she was born. “Me, too,” she said. “I’ll be here for the tree-raising.” Then she looked around at the little town, the lights shining from inside unfussy little houses, smoke curling from chimneys, folks pulling up to the bar and giving a wave to Jack, Mel and Brie as they went inside. The sky was darkening fast, gray clouds gathering and looking heavy with their burden. “Snow tonight?” she asked.

“Very likely,” Brie said. “It’s way overdue. Call if you need anything.”

* * *

When Patrick got back to the cabin he was staying in—his brother Aiden’s place on the ridge—one of his other brothers, Colin, was sitting on a chair on the deck.

“What are you doing here?”

Colin lifted a bag. “I brought you some Thanksgiving leftovers.”

Patrick sighed. “I was offered those yesterday at your house and I said no thank you.”

“Jilly figured that by now you might have changed your mind.”

“Why didn’t you just leave them in the kitchen?” he asked. “The door isn’t locked.”

Colin just shook his head. “Look, kid, I don’t pretend to understand everything that’s going on with you, but I’m not going to invade your territory. I’ll go inside when I’m invited inside.”

Patrick walked around him and opened the door. He stood back and held it open. “Please,” he said. When Colin stepped inside, Patrick said, “It’s not complicated—I’m rethinking the Navy. But after four years in the Academy and quite a few in the cockpit, it’s not an easy decision.”

“Especially coming right after Leigh stepped out of your life and Jake dies…” Colin added.

“I think they’re called life-altering events,” Patrick said. “It’s actually more complicated, though. I’m due orders. I’m going to get a squadron, and I’m not sure I want to take it. I’ve been given a little time to think about it, and not necessarily because of Jake.” But that was a lie—it was because of Jake. The Navy shrink had ordered his leave.

“You’re grieving.”

“I’m thinking,” Patrick returned emphatically. And then he looked away, remembering with some longing a time when he had been the least screwed up of the Riordan brothers. He had once been the least complicated, too.

“It might help to talk about it,” Colin suggested.

That idea had been suggested before—many times. If his brothers knew how much time he’d already spent with the shrink, they’d either give up on him or get a lot more invasive.

“Colin, not that long ago, we all tried to get you to open up about your issues and it pissed you off because you were feeling very private....”

“I was feeling very secretive,” Colin corrected. “Because after I had augured in in the Black Hawk I was chewing Oxy like M&M’s and couldn’t risk letting anyone in my space.”

“Even before that,” Patrick said. “You were the brother who rarely put in an appearance at family things and, when you did you didn’t last long, so cut me some slack here. I need to be that brother for a while.” In fact, the reason Patrick had chosen to come to Virgin River was because both Luke and Colin lived here, and Sean and Aiden were not so far away. He did want to see his brothers, just not too much of them. And because Patrick had been scheduled to be out to sea and not in Virgin River, the entire Riordan clan was planning a Christmas holiday reunion in warm and sunny San Diego. They had rented two large condos on the beach and his mother, Maureen, with her significant other, George, would go there in their RV. But Patrick would not be going to San Diego. By Christmas, he’d be heading back to Charleston to either accept the new assignment or pack up his gear and out-process. In the meantime, this little cabin of Aiden’s—way up on top of the mountain—was sweet. And remote. And just what he wanted.

Colin put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Even before the Oxy, I had turned asshole into an art form. I realize that now. It took having my life gutted to turn me into the sweetheart I am today.” Then he grinned. But he didn’t remove his hand. “But you’ve always been the best one in the family. The most stable, sensitive, settled. It was always hard to picture you as a fighter jock. And now? It’s hard to watch you in pain.”

“I’m not in pain,” Patrick said. “I’m in deep thought. Right now taking on a squadron commits me to the career path. I need some time to think about that. I’ll talk about it after I’ve sorted a few things out. And I’m not completely antisocial—I made it to Thanksgiving dinner, right? I get to town for a beer almost every day.” He didn’t keep any alcohol at the cabin because the temptation to stay drunk for a few weeks was too strong. “I just need a little time, that’s all. There’s no reason for you to worry.”

Colin removed the hand. “Okay, then. So, since you’re not antisocial, hit town for a while tomorrow—they’re raising the tree.”

“The big tree?” he asked.

“Yep. Everyone gets into the act at some point. I’ll stop by because I’m sure they’ll need my advice. Luke will be in the thick of it. The general and Jack will compete for the boss position, but Paul Haggerty is the one in charge because he has all the heavy equipment needed to raise and anchor it. Getting it up and decorated is a two-day affair and the entire town shows up at one time or another. And then people start coming from all over this part of the state just to see it.”

“I’ll probably swing by in the next couple of days....”

“Good,” Colin said. He handed him the bag of leftovers. “Refrigerate. See you around.”

“Yeah, sure.”

After Colin left, Patrick made a phone call to Marie, Jake’s widow. He called her every day. “Hey, it’s me. How you doing today?”

“Holidays are kind of hard, but I knew they would be,” she said. “I was with my whole family yesterday and they’re a big crowd. My brother has a friend he says would like to take me to a movie, although I suspect my brother might have paid this guy.”

“Nah,” Patrick said. “Who wouldn’t want to take you out? Are you ready for that—to go out, I mean?”

“Not yet,” she said in a very quiet breath. “It hasn’t been very long....”

Just a couple of months, Patrick thought.

“And I was with Jake for a long time,” Marie added.

Six years. Patrick knew exactly how long it had been. They’d dated for two years and then four years ago Patrick was their best man. Two years ago Jake’s son, Daniel, was born and Patrick stood as godfather. He’d been on a mission with Jake when something went wrong over Afghanistan and Jake was shot down. They weren’t the only two on that mission, but Patrick was their lead and the only one who felt responsible. Maybe it was more accurate to say Patrick had survivor guilt—why couldn’t it have been him? Jake had a family who depended on him.

“I know, but can I just say that it’s okay, Marie?” Patrick said. “Few weeks, few months, doesn’t matter. If you feel like you can do it, go out and have a little fun with a guy, it’s okay. Jake wouldn’t mind. You know that.”

“I know. When I’m ready, I will. But, Paddy, I have to get through all the special days without him first. All the holidays and birthdays and anniversaries…”

Is that what we have to do? Patrick wondered. “Did someone tell you that?”

“I’ve heard it here and there. I’ve been doing a little grief counseling with my church group and some people said that after you’ve been through all the important dates, things get a little easier. Or at least a little less terrible.”

“Listen, Marie, I have all this free time. Want me to come back there for a while…?”

“Seeing you is always good, Paddy, but I’ve been surrounded by people since I came home to Oklahoma. I think it’s better if you take care of yourself. I think you miss him as much as I do. You have things to work out, as well. Your own things.”

Patrick was silent for a moment and then said, “I’ve been thinking about giving up the plane,” he said quietly.

“Why?” she asked in a stunned whisper. “Because of Jake? Paddy, you love the plane!”

“Not because of Jake. Because in the long term…”

“And do what? Fly a desk? What?”

“Maybe not the Navy…”

“Okay, now I know you’re all screwed up—you’re more Navy than anyone I know. You’re going to be a commander next and then Joint Chiefs one day.”

Nah, he thought—never anything that elevated and political. He liked flying a fighter; he could exist commanding fighters. But after the accident, Patrick felt like everything in his life had suddenly changed and he wasn’t sure which way to move next. “It’s just something I’ve been kicking around,” he said. “I might not get out of flying, but I have been getting sick of that big, gray boat.”

“Now that I get,” she said. “And that little cot? And the night raids?” She laughed. “When you guys got home, Jake actually said he missed it all, if you can believe it.”

“That’s not what he told me,” Patrick said, chuckling. “He said his sleeping arrangements had improved a hundred percent.”

“Such a wild man,” she reminisced sentimentally. And then with tears in her voice she said, “I don’t think it’s possible for me to ever feel that way about another human being again.”

“It’s too soon to say that,” Patrick said. And his secret, which he didn’t speak of, was that the only way he could get through ten more years in the Navy was with a woman like Marie as a partner. That’s what had made Jake’s life right; that’s what he wanted—someone devoted to him. He was way too alone and he knew it. “We have to get through the year....”

“Paddy, are you very lonely?” she asked him as if reading his mind.

“No, I’m getting by. My brothers are here.” The brothers I try not to spend too much time with, he thought. Lonely wasn’t his problem; as a Navy aviator he was constantly around a lot of Navy personnel—pilots, rios, mechanics, et cetera. On an aircraft carrier the only place to get a little privacy was in the head or up in the sky and little was the operative word—there was always someone in the next stall or in the rear seat of the aircraft.

But like an old married couple, he and Jake had never gotten bored with each other.

When they got back to Charleston, Jake was always with his wife and Patrick was usually with Leigh when she was in town and their schedules meshed. Jake and Leigh, his two closest friends. But then Leigh broke it off after four years and, not long after that, Jake had been killed. Next thing he knew he was spending his time in port with the Navy shrink, working it out. Or not working it out—he didn’t have much to say to the doc and had never mentioned the breakup.

The shrink told his commander to give Patrick six weeks. Getting six weeks out of the Navy was pretty rare unless you’d had some horrible catastrophe like your wife dying of cancer.

Paddy was facing reassignment and he could just turn it down and walk away but his boss wanted him back; he wanted him to take a squadron. But doing that with nothing to look forward to, and without his two best friends—his girl and his buddy—was hard to imagine. He just didn’t know if he was up to it.

He still had a hard time believing they’d left him.

Two

The snow fell heavily on the Friday night after Thanksgiving and Angie was enthralled. Although she had done a little skiing in her time, she lived in a city that had to look up to the Sierras to see snow. The porch at the A-frame cottage was covered and for a little while she put on her heavy down jacket and sat out there just to watch it fall. So silent. So delicate. It was like being on the inside of a snow globe.

The fireplace in Mel and Jack’s little cabin was large and warm and there was no need for any additional heat. She fed it logs and cozied up on the couch under the down comforter that had been on the bed. The sofa was soft and deep and she couldn’t remember when she’d had a better night’s sleep. They got a good six inches that night, and the morning dawned bright and clear with a thick, white blanket of snow on the ground and a delicious dusting on the pine boughs. It was like being on another planet—so far from that L.A. freeway where her life had been forever changed, so far from the house in Sacramento where she’d grown up, the place where she had revisited her childhood so many times during her recovery.

Yes, this was what she’d been looking for. A respite—some old-fashioned peace and quiet.

No one really understood how difficult it was to wake up from a bad dream, determined to change your life. She’d had partial memory loss for a few weeks after the accident, though she knew what she’d been doing, who her friends were, what her plans had been. This whole idea of being a doctor—she knew she could do it and do it well. She’d been groomed for this since her intellectual parents discovered her interest in science. But it was more like getting a plaque or trophy than about what it would bring to her life. After striving toward this goal for years, what was she to do with that feeling that it just wasn’t enough? Perhaps after she watched falling snow, the orange sunsets, the explosion of autumn color and possibly a world-class geyser or waterfall she’d feel that enthusiasm return.

She still had the same friends, even if she hadn’t seen much of them. They were busy in med school and she had a rigorous rehab schedule, plus the relocation from L.A. to her parents’ Sacramento home. One friend was still missing, though—her boyfriend. Alex. They’d been together for several months before the accident—he was a med student, as well. It happened all the time. Students tended to date one another more out of convenience than anything else, because it seemed to fit well with the intensity of med school. Alex left her at some point during her rehab—after the coma, before she remembered everything and could walk again. Strangely, his actions had remarkably little effect on her except to make her think, Wow! Who does that? Leaves a girlfriend while she’s recovering from catastrophic injuries? That thought occurred every now and then.

The phone in the cabin rang, jarring her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. She tried to ignore it. It was still quite early, but she hadn’t brewed coffee and didn’t feel like cooking breakfast, so she pulled her scuffed-up cowboy boots over her torn jeans and grabbed her jacket. The phone was relentless, so with a heavy sigh she picked it up. “Hello.”

“You’re not staying with Jack,” her mother said.

“Hi, Mom. No, I’m staying in his cabin.”

“But I thought we understood each other—you would stay with Jack or Brie.”

“Nope. That was your expectation. I’m very interested in seeing them but not living with them. I was hoping for the cabin or, at the least, Jack’s guesthouse. I want a little time and space to myself.”

“This is exactly what I’ve been talking about. You’re not yourself at all. I’ve made an appointment with a neuropsychiatrist,” she said. “We should get to the bottom of this.”

Angie laughed. “Listen, Mom, do yourself a favor. Cancel it. You don’t need much more than an everyday counselor to figure out that my brain is fine. The problem isn’t me. I’m not doing things your way and it’s making you crazy. I have to go. I don’t want to be late for the raising of the tree.”

“Angie…!”

“Bye,” she said, disconnecting.

Neuropsychiatrist? Never gonna happen. Besides, she’d already seen at least one of those and no one, no matter how many degrees they had, could convince her that rejecting her mother’s plan for her life automatically signaled a personality disorder.

The phone rang again, but Angie zipped her jacket and headed out the door. She stopped on the porch to indulge in a moment of remorse. Sadness. There was bound to be friction between a firstborn daughter and her strong-willed mother. Angie had always known how to please her parents and, in fact, usually had. Her mother proclaimed her a handful to raise, and yet, she’d managed to be Donna’s pride and joy. Angie had never rebelled so thoroughly before.

Donna didn’t seem to push back on Angie’s younger sisters with the same kind of determination. When Jenna or Beth resisted their mother’s plans, Donna seemed to let go faster. Easier.

“Dr. Temple, do you think my personality has changed?”

“It’s possible. And there’s always PTSD. Catastrophic accidents and long recoveries can have that effect.”

“Do I have a disorder?”

“Disorder? I’m no expert, but I don’t get the sense of a disorder. Do you think you have a disorder?”

“You know, I just feel like I finally woke up. I feel as if I should change things. It’s filling me with a sense of relief, of second chances, but it’s upsetting my family. They’re worried and angry, especially my mother. I’m battling with her over things like school. Battling like never before.”

“Hmm. Well, have you asked yourself—do you like the new you?”

“I do. I want to be more independent. But I hate disappointing my mother. She’s had it in her head I should be a doctor for a long time.”

“I think, Angie, that you have to act on what’s in your head, not your mother’s. You’re an adult, not her little girl anymore. Maybe you two need a little space to figure things out.”

Not long after Angie had that conversation with Dr. Temple, Uncle Jack and Brie had stepped in. Jack called Donna and said, “The two of you are fighting like a couple of cats in a sack. You’re not going to get better this way. Send Angie up here for a while. A few weeks. Let her get some perspective and take a breather. This is ridiculous.”

It took a follow-up phone call from Brie, but Donna finally came around. She was persuaded to put off the head butting at least until after the first of the year.

Angie could almost hear her father breathe a sigh of relief.

* * *

When Angie arrived in town, she saw that even though the hour was early, the place was already a circus. The big flatbed with an enormous tree strapped to it blocked the street and mounted on another truck was a giant winch. The ground had been plowed free of snow right between the bar and the church, back off the road a bit in the area where, in milder weather, there were picnic tables. That’s where the tree would stand. The sound of a hydraulic post digger assaulted the morning air as meanly as a jackhammer, and a lot of people stood around watching while the tree was being attached to the lift. Cables trailed off the tree—likely to be anchored to stakes in the ground to steady it.

It was so big.

Someone pressed a cup of coffee into her hands and she turned to see Mike V, Brie’s husband, her uncle Mike. She had forgotten her desire for caffeine. “Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek.

“How’s that little cabin working out?” he asked.

“It’s perfect. I’m going to get some candles from the bar—I sat on the porch last night and just watched the snow. If I’d had some candles…”

“I’m sure that can be arranged, chica,” he said, draping an arm around her shoulders.

As they stood together in the street, watching, chains were tightened, the motor on the lift was pumping away and more and more people who had been forced to park down the street were walking toward the tree-raising. Jack and General Booth stood near Paul Haggerty, talking and pointing and gesturing, but Paul seemed to completely ignore them as he directed his team.

It took long enough that Angie’s coffee was gone by the time the tree was finally lifted off the bed of the truck. Four men holding four cables maneuvered the airborne tree so that the trunk slipped into the hole that had been dug right in the ground. Then the cables were pulled tight, straightening the tree. There was a loud, collective “Ahh” in the crowd of people gathered around to watch. There was a bit of muffled applause thanks to the gloves and mittens worn by most of the spectators.

Finally Jack and the general had major roles—they were standing across the street from the tree to judge the straightness of it before the cables were secured to the ground. They were gesturing right, then left, then right....

And Angie saw him. He was standing on the porch of the bar, leaning a shoulder against a post. He was most definitely watching her. When their eyes met he did that smile thing again—half his mouth lifted. His eyes got just a little bit sleepy, but the glittering green was still overwhelming. She wanted a close-up of those eyes.

Real close.

Patrick lifted a coffee cup to his lips, but he never took his eyes off her, peering at her over the rim of the cup.

“You okay, chica?” Mike asked.

“That guy,” she said, just taking him in. “Do you know him?”

Mike followed her eyes. “Patrick? I know his brothers. I’ve only met him once or twice.”

“How long has he lived around here?”

“Just visiting, I hear. You okay?”

“He’s staring at me,” she said in a low voice, trying not to move her lips.

Mike cleared his throat. “Um, listen, if he’s making you uncomfortable, I could have a word with him.”

She grinned at Mike. “He’s making me uncomfortable all right, but not exactly in a bad way. Don’t say anything, all right? Don’t make him stop. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me that way before.”

Mike turned Angie toward him. His black eyes bore into her with intensity. “Ange, don’t play with fire. I don’t know much about Patrick except that he has some difficult situation going with the military. The Navy just gave him more leave to sit in Virgin River than they typically grant, which usually indicates a problem of some kind. You should at least talk to Jack before you do anything young and foolish.”

She laughed at him, amused. “Wow, doesn’t that sound fun, a chat with Uncle Jack about an interesting guy. Now I was kind of young at the time, but if I remember correctly Uncle Jack thought you were a bad idea for Aunt Brie. Do I have that right?”

Mike pursed his lips as he pondered this. “We were both older than you, for one thing. We had been through some real major crises, for another, which left Jack feeling a little on the protective side. And we were careful to take it slow—know what I’m saying? I don’t know any details but I hear Patrick has had some issues—real problems. Hear me?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “Fortunately, I haven’t been through any crises or had any problems....”

“Oh, man,” Mike said. “Now you’re scaring me.”

She patted his arm. “I’ll be just fine, Uncle Mike. I know it’s hard for everyone to accept this, but I’m not a little girl anymore. I can handle this.” She turned to look again at Patrick but he wasn’t there. “Crap,” she muttered. “I hope you didn’t scare him away. I wanted to talk to him.”

“I was on the verge of suggesting you don’t talk to him.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “I think I need a refill on the coffee. Thanks. By the way, where is Brie?”

“I think she’s in the bar with Ness, but, Ange—”

“I’ll catch up with you in a while. Thanks for the coffee.” She glanced at the tree and gave it a nod. “You might want to tell Jack it’s leaning west.”

* * *

Angie scored in the bar. Brie was there with little Ness, sitting at a table with Mel and Emma, chatting it up while the little girls made an attempt at coloring. There were only a few people in the bar since the tree-raising was occupying almost everyone in town. She noticed Patrick sitting at the far end of the bar on the other side of the room, all alone, far away from her aunts.

“Ah, my favorite aunts,” she said. She leaned down to give each of them a kiss on the cheek, telling them the cabin was awesome. She immediately excused herself to go to the bar for more coffee. They might’ve expected her back at their table after she’d gone behind the bar to serve herself. Instead, she paused, took a deep breath and hopped up on a stool right next to Patrick. She imagined that Brie and Mel wouldn’t know how much courage she’d needed to do that. They knew she wasn’t particularly shy, but they couldn’t possibly know how little experience she had with men, especially a man like this—handsome, sexy and out of her age range by at least a few years.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Angie LaCroix.” She put out a hand.

He stared at the hand for a moment, then lifted his gaze to her eyes. And, oh, sweet baby Jesus, he was beautiful. He took her hand in his much larger one. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Just go for it, she thought. Why not? “I thought we should meet, since you look at me like you’re the big bad wolf. And you are…?”

He couldn’t seem to suppress a short laugh. “I bet you know exactly who I am.”

“Ah, yes, Patrick Riordan, the youngest brother of a clan anchored here. Do I have that right?”

“More or less. I have a couple of brothers here and another couple not too far away.”

“Right. So you’re here visiting family?”

“Not exactly. I’m here because one of my brothers has a vacation cabin here and I had some time on my hands. Since the lot of them are planning a Christmas gathering in San Diego, there won’t be a crowd of Riordans here for the holiday. That suits me fine. I wanted a quiet place to hang out for a while. I wasn’t looking for a family reunion, but it’s always good to see a brother or two. Just not too much of them.”

She looked perplexed. “If you want to avoid them, why would you come to their little town?”

“It’s complicated. The Riordans are extremely nosy and opinionated. They gather. They swarm. If I hadn’t come here, they would have come looking for me. All of them. That’s what happens in my family. We can leave one another alone for months at a time but then when something happens, like a brother at some kind of crossroads, accident or crisis, the troops are called in and the wagons are circled. When you’re the one the wagons are circling, it sucks.”

She was silent for a moment. “That’s very grumpy of you.”

“Well, you did ask.”

“You know, we have a little something in common,” she said. “I’m here for a little R and R myself and for a similar but not identical reason. I dropped out of school. I’m not sure I want to pursue my original plan and I need a break. My parents, who are both college professors, are going a little crazy on me. A little distance from them seemed like a good idea. In fact, it was Uncle Jack’s idea.” She grinned at him. “Though I suspect I didn’t get far enough away. My uncle Jack can get a little…intrusive…protective. For example, he suggested I stay away from you.”

“Me? Why? What’s wrong with me?” he asked.

“Apparently you’re scary and dangerous,” she informed him with a sly smile.

“What? Dangerous? Me? Who said that?”

“It was implied,” she admitted. “I’ve been advised by the older men in my life not to get involved with you, but no one has told me exactly why. So, why?”

He chuckled silently and shook his head. “Listen, I’m just here for a few weeks. Maybe you should stay away from me. And you look like you finished school a long time ago. You must be younger than you look.”

“I finished college. It’s a postgrad thing. But… How old do I seem? Because you undress me with your eyes. Skillfully. And at a great distance, too.”

He leaned toward her. “How old are you?”

“Almost twenty-six,” she said, straightening, sitting tall.

“How almost?” he pressed.

She took a breath. “Twenty-three.”

He groaned and looked down, shaking his head. “God. You’re younger than you look.”

“So how old are you?” she asked. “Forty?”

“Hey,” he said. “I’m thirty-three.”

She leaned her head on her hand, elbow braced on the bar. “Had a hard few years or something?”

“Whoa! You’re brutal!”

But Angie was really starting to enjoy this adventurous, flirty side of herself. This was certainly new territory for her, but she suddenly had the urge to explore it. “The way you look at me should at least be considered a misdemeanor. Or a proposal, I’m not sure which. But it didn’t feel that bad and I thought maybe if we talked…”

“What? You thought I’d ask you out on a date or something? Sweetheart, this is Virgin River. If we sit here and talk for even five more minutes, everyone in town will put us together.”

“Let’s take a chance,” she said, amazing herself. But then, she was on a mission. She wanted to know someone who she could relate to. Who could relate to her. And it sure didn’t hurt that Patrick Riordian was smokin’ hot. “Talking isn’t against the law.”

“What if I don’t feel like talking? You don’t want to mess around with the big bad wolf.”

“Do you feel like listening? Because I can always talk. And we have things in common, you and I.”

“I don’t feel like fighting off the vigilantes who’ll come down on me to protect your honor, so I think me going home right now is a better idea.”

At that, Angie smiled so big that Patrick actually leaned back slightly. “So!” she said. “You do like me!”

“How the hell would I know?” he barked at her. “I don’t even know you!”

“Then why do you watch me? Stare at me? Get mad when I suggest we spend a little time talking?”

“Because you’re a cute little sexpot, and while you might be old enough for this flirtation, I can tell you’re way too inexperienced for it, and you have a posse in town looking out for you and I don’t need any trouble! Believe me, I have enough trouble!”

She glanced down at herself. Old jeans with a torn knee, a pair of battered cowboy boots that she’d been attached to for years, khaki canvas jacket and an oversize white sweater—and no makeup.... She looked up at him and laughed. “Sexpot? Jesus! Are you serious?”

He pursed his lips and put his hands in his jacket pockets. “Serious,” he hissed.

“Well, holy shit, if this gets your motor running, I’m not going anywhere!”

“Angie…”

“You should see me when I get dressed up! I can look damn good.”

“Angie…”

“Patrick,” she mimicked.

Suddenly Brie was standing on the inside of the bar holding the coffeepot. She wordlessly refilled their cups without making eye contact and disappeared back to her table. Angie knew they were talking about her. She knew it and didn’t care.

“I have an idea,” Angie said. “Let’s just have a cup of coffee. Then we’ll reassess things. However, I have to warn you, I kind of like that you find me irresistible.”

“Did I say that?” he asked, a slight tint creeping up his stubbled cheeks. “I didn’t say that! I find you completely resistible.”

“Touchy, huh? Maybe you should have something a little stronger than coffee.”

He gave her a slow look, a full appraisal that made her warm, a feeling she couldn’t remember having before, and she liked it. She was growing more bold by the minute. Then with his eyes narrowed he said, “All right, we’ll have a cup of coffee. You’ll talk. Then I’ll head home and you’ll stop looking for trouble.”

She stared at him levelly. “Do women actually find you scary?” she asked.

* * *

Patrick couldn’t remember ever treating a woman like that, rudely looking her over, trying to make her uncomfortable to scare her off, running roguish eyes up and down the length of her. Especially a sweet young thing like Angie. In fact, he had always been the complete opposite, a gentleman to the core. Present circumstances had put a rough edge on him. Plus, his instincts told him it would be practical if not wise if she just didn’t get too close. He was a wreck without much to offer. The only woman who had his attention right now was his best friend’s widow, that’s how sad his life had become.

But Angie wasn’t easily discouraged. With a cup of coffee in front of him he said, “No young woman should come on to a man she doesn’t know, especially after being warned away from him by her protectors. That sort of thing could get you hurt.”

“Oh, stop,” she said. She took a sip of her coffee. “Jack and Preacher and Mike said they know you a little bit and are friends with your brothers. They all said you were troubled by something but no one ever suggested you were dangerous—I made that up to flatter you. So guess what? I might be troubled, too. You might think I’m a little nuts, but the truth is I wouldn’t mind having a friend who also has some things to sort out.”

He just stared at her. “And what might be troubling you, miss? Dropping out of some cushy college program?”

“Exactly right,” she answered. “But not because I was bored or disillusioned. I was in an accident and had to take leave. It was a medical leave.”

He was startled and it showed in his eyes. He might’ve overheard something about a hospital at the bar, but the details were vague right now. “What kind of accident?”

“The kind that means having rods and pins put in you and lands you in physical therapy for a few months.”

An image of Patrick’s brother, Colin, lying unconscious in a hospital bed, barely alive after a Black Hawk crash, came to his mind. He shuddered involuntarily. “What happened?”

“Well, I had to learn to walk, of course, but—”

“No, what kind of accident?” he asked, genuinely interested.

“Oh—a car accident. Three cars, actually. And what happened is still being disputed—the driver at fault was killed. She lost control of her car, jumped the median on the freeway and hit two oncoming cars, the one I was in and another. There was a witness who said she was cut off by a speeding car that didn’t stop. It was raining and the roads were slick. Another witness said there was no speeding car and that it looked like her car suddenly hydroplaned, like she lost control because of a flat or broken axel or something. Someone suggested she might’ve fallen asleep, but it wasn’t like she’d just come off a twelve-hour shift or anything—she was on her way out to meet a date for dinner and hadn’t driven far. I don’t remember much. I remember lights, sirens, my girlfriend crying—she had a broken ankle, a couple of broken ribs and a really badly shattered wrist, plus lots of bad bruises and cuts. They had to pry both of us out of the car. She remembers that—the sawing and crunching of metal—but I don’t.”

He was quiet for a moment, in something of a trance. “Man,” he finally said in a whisper. “One killed?”

“Yes, and the third car was a family with little kids, but thankfully they didn’t have any critical injuries. The kids were in their safety seats and they were in a big SUV. I feel terrible about the lady driver, though. There were no drugs or any alcohol involved. I think, in the end, what we have here is an accident.”

“And you were badly hurt,” he clarified.

“All banged up. I was in L.A. at the time, a student at USC, and my parents live in Sacramento so they jumped in their car right away. My dad drove like a bat out of hell so they could be there when I got out of surgery. My mom stayed with me for two months, until I could be moved home to complete my checkups and therapy. The whole time I was in L.A. there was a steady stream of aunts and uncles and cousins visiting to see how I was doing even though some of them had to travel a ways. I come from a big family and I’m the oldest grandchild. My grandpa was there several times. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the experience of looking like absolute shit and feeling even worse and having thirty or so people stare at you....”

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t,” he said.

“It sucks. And when I was back in Sacramento, there was even more checking in. I was never alone, never. So—there you have it. Well, no, you don’t have it yet. The thing is, my mother is the toughest, strongest, least sentimental overachiever I know. She’s Uncle Jack’s oldest sister and she’s been pushing him around for over forty years. She’s a journalism professor at Berkeley. But having her oldest child hurt and in the hospital brought her to her knees. Kicked the stuffing out of her. She took a leave from the college and dedicated herself to my care, which was a wonderful thing to do, but I think she lost her mind a little bit. She’s always been domineering in her way…bossy, you might say. The accident really amped that up. She was determined to get me healed and back on track. But suddenly, she wanted to bring my sister Beth home from her senior year at NAU in Flagstaff—she couldn’t sleep at night thinking about her driving those mountain roads. And my littlest sister, Jenna, she wanted to keep in Sacramento at a state college even though she’d been attending UCLA.”

“And what about you?” he asked.

Angie couldn’t help but laugh. “She wants me to sleep in a helmet.”

He laughed a little with her. “I bet you want to sleep in a helmet sometimes, too.”

“Well, that’s where Mom and I have had a breakdown in communication. I want to not be afraid. I never want to be scared to live life because of one bad experience, as terrible as it was. It’s not like I could’ve done anything differently—I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. So—should I live the rest of my life in a padded room?”

He shook his head. “No, but you shouldn’t follow strange men into bars, either. Even bars owned by your uncle. You should have yourself a nice young man who has a normal life and calls you for a date, then picks you up and takes you someplace special.”

“Oh, I had one of those,” Angie said with a sigh. “I had him for months before the accident and he said he loved me. He wandered off sometime during physical therapy.... Haven’t heard from him since.”

Patrick felt the color drain from his face. And he found himself thinking, I was one of those nice young men who did what his woman expected, and I was left…. He couldn’t believe people did that—abandoned their partner in a time of need. He’d never be so cruel as to run out on a person he’d once loved like that. Angie’s experience with her former boyfriend was very close to the hurt he felt over the woman who had left him behind. Leigh had said she loved him, too. Then suddenly she told him, unemotionally, that they weren’t right for each other. She had a career of her own and wanted a full partner, not some Navy flyboy. He hadn’t been with another woman since then.

Yet what tore him up the most was the fact that when he’d called Leigh to tell her Jake was dead, she hadn’t come to him. She hadn’t comforted him beyond the telephone condolences of that one call. She hadn’t come to the memorial. She’d sent Marie a card—she might have even had a card sent by one of her assistants—but she hadn’t called her. That’s when he realized they must never have been good together in the first place. If the tables had been turned and she’d lost someone close, he would have been there for her even if they were no longer a couple.

They’d spent so much time together, the four of them. Didn’t she grieve Jake? Sympathize with Marie? Worry about Patrick’s feelings? It had baffled and hurt him. He felt he had never known her at all.

He looked at Angie and said, “So he just kind of wandered off?”

“Yeah. At first he was too busy with school, then he said he just couldn’t watch my struggle, it was too difficult for him. This guy wants to be a doctor! And he couldn’t bear seeing me in pain? Pah! Then one of my friends said he was seeing someone else. I cried. For an hour. But something tells me I got off easy. I’m going to need a much tougher man in my life. I’ll hold out for that.”

He grinned suddenly. His immediate thought was, And I’ll need a much stronger woman. Could it really be that simple? “You should.”

“You don’t look at all scary when you smile,” she said in a rather soft voice.

“You said I didn’t look scary before.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you to get all bigheaded. So, Patrick Riordan, what’s got you all messed up?”

He slid back in his chair. “I thought we agreed not to talk about me?” He took a sip of coffee.

“I certainly don’t intend to insist, but when you’re sharing, you know, there’s usually a little give and take....”

“I’m a Navy pilot,” he said after a short pause. “I was on a mission and another pilot flying in the same sortie was killed. Shot down. Right beside me. We were flying cover for Marine rescue choppers near Kandahar, avoiding missiles, and then… The unexpected. A heat seeker came out of nowhere. He was my closest friend. I was his lead. He was my wingman.”

“I’m so sorry. I can understand why you didn’t want to talk about that.”

“Someone would’ve told you eventually. Jake went down and it’s time for me to get orders—a new assignment somewhere. I just feel like I need a little time to decide if I really want that life. I always thought I did. But lately I’ve been thinking that it might not fit with the other things I’d like to have—like a family, for instance. Jake left behind a wife and two-year-old son.”

“But do you love flying?” she asked him.

“I always have, but that…” His voice trailed off.

“That’s one of the things I’m struggling with, too, Patrick. But I’ve realized that there are fewer NASCAR drivers killed than girls like me who were singing along with the radio one minute and dead the next. None of those people on commercial jets on 9/11 were taking chances. Besides, if you’re doing something you believe in and are expertly trained to do… But then, you might have to ask the woman in your life before you listen to me.”

He just stared at her for a second. “There’s no woman.”

“Oh,” she said.

“And my friends call me Paddy.”

She smiled at him. “I like that.”

“What’s your next move, Angie?”

She took a deep breath. “Oh, I’ll probably end up going back to medical school eventually, but not—”

“Medical school?” he asked, wide-eyed. “You mean you’re not getting some degree in basket weaving or tennis?”

She laughed lightly. “Nah. I’m a brainiac with limited social skills, as you can probably see.”

He shook his head, but his mouth was still open. He hadn’t been ready for this. “You take chances, but now I think I get it. So, you’ll go back to school?”

“Well, like you, I have to make a decision—I don’t know if I want to go back to med school. The second I said ‘doctor’ when I was about sixteen my parents were on the case—going over my classes, my major and my transcripts, my med school applications. I missed a lot of life being the perfect student. While I was recovering, I had some great docs but there was one I was close to. Dr. Temple was never in a hurry. He talked to me. It’s possible he was simply studying me, looking for signs of brain damage, but still…” She gave a shrug, then shook her head. “I’ve been fighting with my mother a lot. She wants me back in med school before too much time passes, and I’m not sure I’m ever going back. Next for me, Paddy, is a little more balance in my life. If I’ve learned anything from what happened, it’s that you shouldn’t miss opportunities to live life. It could always be your last chance. And not just if you’re a Navy pilot. It could be your last chance even if you’re just making a grocery store run.”

“No one can make you go to medical school.”

“I so hate to disappoint them. But I might be looking for something more.”

“Going to become an adventurer?” he asked.

“That’s not really what I mean. I think watching the snow fall in candlelight and cuddling a baby—those can be watershed moments, too.”

She stood up from the bar. He stood, as well. “For today, I chased down an interesting guy—something I’ve never done before. I’ve had a nice cup of coffee, and now I’m going back outside to watch the decorating of the tree. I’m also going to try to talk my way into one of those cherry pickers, but I might have to get my uncle Jack drunk first.” Then she laughed.

“I gave you a hard time, Angie,” he said. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Paddy. You have stuff to work out, too. Big stuff, and again, I’m sorry for your loss. And,” she added with a shrug, “I’ve been told I can be a lot to take. Especially lately…”

He grabbed her hand before she could leave. “No, you’re not,” he said. “Maybe you should have another cup of coffee.”

She shook her head, but the look in her eyes said she was tempted.

“You started it,” he accused.

“Aw, I think you did, with your green eyes and that look.”

He put his right hand against the side of her head in an affectionate gesture and suddenly time stopped. He had a strange look on his face. His fingers rubbed against a raised, hairless spot behind her ear. She had long, thick, pretty brown hair streaked with blond but there was no mistaking a scar. He pulled away from her to look into her eyes.

“A shunt,” she said. “I don’t know why the hair doesn’t grow there, but I guess it’ll grow back someday. I think.”

“Shunt?” The word was not completely alien to him, but he wasn’t making all the connections.

“My brain swelled while I was in a coma. They fixed it with the shunt to drain the edema but then they leave it in. It’s not working anymore but they don’t remove the shunt unless it creates a problem. We don’t do brain surgery unless we have to.”

He watched her eyes. “Coma,” he said, still gently touching that lump. “Brain swelling. You had a head injury. A serious head injury.”

“But really, I’m fine. Completely recovered. I mean, I think I am. Even given my chasing dangerous men into bars…”

“It was a bad accident,” he confirmed. “Very bad.”

She nodded. “Which explains why my mother thinks I have a personality disorder and wants me in a padded suit for the rest of my life. And maybe it also explains my resistance to that idea.”

He smiled gently and said, “I like your personality.”

“Thanks,” she said, some confidence restored. “That actually means a lot to me.” She gave him another smile, then turned and headed out to join the festivities.

Three

Once Angie left the bar, Patrick felt a little short of breath. Meeting her was the last thing he expected. Or intended. He was still feeling emotionally wounded by Leigh. Leigh, who was a sophisticated, thirty-year-old society girl, the daughter of a rich, widowed senator out of Charleston. Leigh, so stunning and brilliant she made men gasp when she strolled by.

So perfect and, ultimately, so cold.

Patrick threw a couple of bills on the bar for their coffee and went outside. There was still a lot of activity around the tree, but he didn’t see Angie. He left town to go home, but all the way there he found himself thinking about the differences between this young, warm, optimistic woman who’d cheated death and Leigh, who had everything and was grateful for nothing.

How had he not noticed that Leigh was so unfeeling when he’d been involved with her?

Patrick had only one picture of Leigh Brisbain with him, although there were still many in his Charleston home, a house Leigh had decorated to suit her tastes. In the picture he kept in his wallet, taken on a sailboat, she lounged against him, both of them hanging on to the rigging, windblown and smiling. She’d been out of his life for six months; all the pictures at home should at least be packed away somewhere. Maybe when he got back there, he’d do that.

Leigh had a place of her own in Maryland, a place he’d only visited when he was available to attend charity or political events with her. When Patrick deployed, Leigh spent all her time near the nation’s capital, working full-time for her father. She never stayed in Patrick’s Charleston house without him, though Patrick had always thought of it as theirs, together. Leigh loved D.C. and planned to make her life there. Her ultimate ambition was to follow in her father’s footsteps. She’d run for office one day and split her time between D.C. and Charleston.

How had he managed to miss that they were so unconnected? It had ended so suddenly. He had come home from sea to find a picture of her in a newspaper where she was dancing with a smiling man. Not exactly a smoking gun—she attended so many political and charity affairs that this didn’t alarm him in the least. He had casually asked, “Who’s the guy?”

And she had replied, “I guess it’s finally time for us to have this talk, Patrick. Our lives are so out of sync—you’re committed to the Navy and I’m going for a career in civilian politics. You’re going to transfer around and I’m going to have to establish roots to support my constituency and political career. You’ll be flying—I’ll be here or in Washington.”

“Haven’t we had this conversation many times?” he said. “You’re not running for office right away, probably not for years. We have plenty of time.”

She merely shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she had said. “I’m not going to be a Navy wife. I’m building a career. I need a partner.”

“To do what? Go to dances?” he asked. “You seem to do just fine, attending with your father.”

“That’s not working for me,” she said.

“Are you asking me to get out? After ten years plus four in the Academy? Is that what you want?” he asked.

And clear as a bell she had said, “I’m afraid that won’t work for me, either.”

That had pretty much summed it up. Oh, they’d talked it to death for a while, but the actual conclusion had been reached in the first two minutes of conversation. She was done. It didn’t matter how he viewed the future, she was done. That was six months ago and he wasn’t sure if he missed her, was angry with her, wanted her back or wanted to send her hate mail.

He began to ask himself why they’d been together in the first place and was stunned to find the list of reasons was incredibly short. She loved dressing him up in his Navy mess dress for formal events in either D.C. or Charleston; she praised him often for being a quality escort. He loved looking at her, talking to her, touching her. She loved being connected to a decorated aviator who had been to war many times and he loved the convenience of having someone there for him when he returned to port. Had he loved her? He’d thought that was love.

Maybe what he felt more than anything was foolish and inexperienced.

He’d always been a one-woman man and playing the field held no interest for him. Even if she hadn’t been there full-time, neither had he. The end of their relationship was probably as much his fault, as Leigh’s. Not only had she taken the path of least resistance, but so had he.

Patrick had always known, even if he hadn’t admitted it, that he didn’t have the kind of relationship with Leigh that Jake had had with Marie. Jake was a frothing mess when he got home from a mission, grabbing Marie up in his arms like the wild man he was, going missing for a few days while he immersed himself in every possible ounce of her and even then being reluctant to let her get too far from his side. That was real love, and that was what Patrick had always wanted.

Now, two of the most important people in his life were gone.

When he got back to his cabin, he didn’t even go inside. He sat on the deck and absorbed the view. He thought about what had brought him here to Virgin River. Damn, life could get empty real fast.

And then this little med student comes along with such warmth, sincerity and passion for life. What a breath of fresh air. It didn’t hurt that she was adorable, gutsy and funny. He probably should stay far away from her, but he clearly was at her mercy—he admired her. Truthfully, he was enthralled. Life played some very strange tricks, sticking him with completely inappropriate feelings for a young woman he’d known for all of an hour. She was too young. On a totally different life path. Vulnerable but alluring. He had to admit, however, her mere presence had taken all the sting out of his loneliness for a little while. But she was not right for him.

Even though his brothers didn’t know it, he’d given his word to Jake—he would take care of Marie and Daniel. Marie needed him.

A creature of habit, he decided to call Marie. “How are you today?” he asked once she picked up.

“Today is a pretty good day,” she said. “Things are quieting down in the post-Thanksgiving haze. You?”

“Not bad, but things aren’t so quiet. It’s getting interesting in Virgin River. They’re putting up the big tree, for one thing—it’s about thirty feet tall and decorated in military insignia.”

“Wow, that’s huge for a little town.”

“This town is only little on the outside,” he said.

Ten minutes later he was on his way back into town to watch the tree trimming and to see if there was anything or anyone interesting in one of those cherry pickers.

* * *

Jack was descending in the bucket of the cherry picker when Angie pulled into town and parked across the street by the clinic. She met him as he got out. “You went missing for a while,” he observed.

“I was exploring a little bit,” she said. “Is it my turn?”

“Awww, I don’t know, Ange.…”

“Come on.”

“I might need a note from your doctor.”

She laughed at him, nudged him to one side and inserted herself in the bucket. “Explain the controls, please,” she said. “I’ll be very careful.”

He sighed, defeated. Sometimes he got so tired of headstrong women. He explained the levers in the control box, though with the diagrams right beside the controls, it was pretty self-explanatory. “Now, listen, I don’t want you over ten feet off the ground,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“Do you doubt I’ll climb up this boom and bring you down?” he asked.

“This is getting really old,” Angie said, and with that, she rose to the task. She went up ten feet, then left, then right, then up a few feet more, left and right, then higher.

“Angela,” he warned.

She went up a bit farther. “I’m fine,” she said. “I love this. I think I might decorate the whole tree for you. At least the top part.”

“Angela LaCroix,” he called. “Lower, please.”

She leaned out of the box and grinned at him. “Are you going to ground me?”

Mel was standing beside him, looking up. “Angie, see that red streamer to your left? Pull that one a little right please, it’s all wonkie.”

She reached out of the bucket and Jack flinched. “Got it,” she said. “Tell me when it’s straight.”

“Better,” Mel said. “Now move around and pull the white one over.”

“Mel,” Jack said. “She’s just having a ride. I want her down!”

“Jack, take it easy, she’s twenty-three, not three. Better, Ange. If I give you some balls, want to hang them up there?”

She leaned out of the bucket and stared down. “If I come down there to get them, your husband is going to grab me.”

“No, he won’t,” she said. “I’ll hold him down. Come on.”

Jack growled and began to pace. He spoke softly to Mel. “What if she gets dizzy?”

“Then she’ll come down. She’s better off in the bucket than on a ladder. Angie, are you dizzy?”

“Of course not,” she said, lowering herself. She leaned over and accepted a box of shiny gold balls from Mel. Then she quickly went up again to avoid Jack.

“Leave plenty of room for the unit badges we’ll also use as ornaments.”

“Will do,” she said, raising the cherry picker while holding on to the ornaments.

Jack watched her some, paced some, grumbled some. The number of people in the street and around the bar grew, but Jack was focused on Angie. No one paid any attention to his worries; Mel continued to yell up at Angie to move a ball or fix some garland. Angie laughed happily as she ran the cherry picker down to the ground, then up again with more ornaments. Or possibly she was laughing at her uncle Jack.

Jack had been oblivious to what was going on around him until he noticed that Angie stopped in midair and looked across the street. Jack followed her line of vision to see Patrick Riordan leaning against his Jeep, watching her. As Jack glanced between the two of them, Angie gave a wave and Patrick waved back.

Crap, he thought.

Well, he should’ve known—it was written all over her face that she was smitten with Patrick’s good looks. Jack stopped pacing because Angie was all done playing around in the cherry picker now that Patrick had appeared. She brought it down, stepped out and brushed off her jeans. Her tight jeans.

“Thanks, I’ll take over,” Mel said, as though there wasn’t a thing in the world to be worried about.

“That was fun,” Angie said to her uncle.

Jack glowered.

“What?” she asked.

Jack tilted his head and glanced to the right, across the street, where Patrick patiently waited for her to be finished.

“Oh, excuse me,” Angie said. And she walked casually across the street as though this was perfectly fine.

It was not perfectly fine in Jack’s opinion.

Mel was raising the bucket with her box of ornaments while Jack was following Angie with his eyes. But Angie didn’t look back. She had Patrick in her crosshairs.

So Jack looked around until he spotted Luke Riordan with young Brett on his hip. He walked over to him and said, “Luke.”

“Looking good, Jack.”

“Look over there, Luke,” he said, again with the head tilt. “Your brother.”

“Yeah, he made it to town for the tree. That’s good. I think he spends too much time alone these days.”

“What’s up with Patrick, anyway?” Jack asked.

“Flying stuff,” Luke said with a shrug. “You know. Threw him for a while, made him rethink the Navy. He just needs some decompression time. He’ll be fine.”

“What kind of flying stuff?”

Luke turned his head to meet eyes with Jack. “His wingman went down.”

Jack just whistled.

“He got some leave,” Luke went on. “He has a decision to make. He always planned on a Navy career, but I guess he’s rethinking it. He has until Christmas to figure it out. Who’s the girl?”

Right about then Patrick put a hand on Angie’s shoulder. She looked up at him, he looked down at her. Jack shivered. “My niece, up for a visit.”

“Nice,” Luke said.

“She’s been valedictorian twice in her life already—for her high school class and for her college class. She’s a medical student, but she was in a car accident and had to take some time off. We’re all hoping she plans to go back to med school after the holidays. That’s what everyone in the family wants. Listen, Luke—see this?” he said, looking across the street to where Patrick and Angie stood talking. “This is Patrick’s second trip into town today. He’s interested in Angie. I don’t think this should happen.”

“What?”

“My niece and your brother,” Jack said irritably.

“Aw, lighten up. Patrick’s a good kid.”

“He’s no kid,” Jack said. “How old is Patrick?”

Luke shrugged. “I guess about thirty. Thirty-two. Or three.”

“Angie is twenty-three. And she needs to go back to school.”

“What do you expect me to do about it?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Talk to him. Tell him the girl is barely out of high school and he needs to move on.”

“Aw, Jack…” Luke shook his head. “She’s out of college. And she’s smart. I mean—valedictorian? I’m lucky I graduated high school.”

“He’s been in the bar, and I hate to say it about one of your brothers, but he’s got attitude, Luke. Doesn’t talk, isn’t friendly, acts all fucked up and miserable. And you say his wingman went down? Angie can’t take on stuff like that. She’s just a girl. A girl with her own issues.”

Luke started to laugh.

“What’s funny?” Jack asked.

“He looks pretty friendly to me,” Luke said.

And sure enough, Patrick was smiling. Laughing. Touching her with familiarity.

Jack cringed. “Ah, dammit, he’s playing around with her hair!”

Luke laughed a little harder. “I’ve played with hair…you’ve played with hair....”

“She’s too young! She’s barely recovered from a bad car accident!” He grumbled something and then said, “I’m responsible for her.”

“Well, she’s over twenty-one so I bet she doesn’t let you stand responsible for too much.”

“You got that right,” he muttered. “Her mother is my older sister. I really don’t want to go a round with her. She’s a pain in my ass.”

“Then don’t. You better ease up, Jack. I don’t think you’re going to have much influence here. And I could talk to him, but it wouldn’t do any good.”

“I don’t want that to happen,” he said glumly.

“Out of my hands. He’s a Riordan. The fact that he’s always been a real docile and sweet Riordan makes no difference at all.”

“Look, I like you Riordan boys just fine,” Jack said. “But the lot of you—you’re scrappy, you’re ornery and you’re like heat-seeking missiles. That’s my niece!”

“Yeah, Riordans are a lot like Jack Sheridan,” Luke pointed out.

“Irrelevant,” Jack said.

“That Riordan…if he’s got his eye on a target—hey, nothing any of us can do. That’s just how it is. You of all people should understand that. Besides, at thirty-eight I married a twenty-five-year-old and no one had a headache about that.”

“As I recall, her uncle was a little annoyed....”

“We had some things to work out, me and Uncle Walt. But the rest of you old boys just laughed at me, said I’d be going to college graduations with a walker.”

Jack ground his teeth. Then, while he watched Angie and Patrick, he asked, “You and Shelby planning more kids?”

“Why?”

“Because I wish a girl on you!” And then Jack stomped off into the bar.

* * *

Angie couldn’t help how she felt when she saw Patrick standing across the street watching her. He’d come back. If he’d just gone into the bar, it wouldn’t have meant as much, but he had no interest in the bar—he wanted to see her in the cherry picker. It was like he was rooting for her.

And she wanted him to see her.

She walked across the street to him. “You got your ride,” he said.

“I did. Is Uncle Jack still watching me?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets and laughing a little. “He’s going to be a problem, isn’t he?”

“Completely.”

“How would you like to handle that?” Patrick asked.

“Do you think if we ignore him, he’ll go away?”

“I have my doubts,” Patrick said. “He’s a little on the grouchy side.”

“So are you,” she pointed out.

“Aw, I’m coming around. He isn’t going to beat me up, is he?”

“If he does, I’ll never speak to him again and, trust me, that would sting. I’m his favorite. He doesn’t admit that because he has a whole flock of nieces, but I am his favorite. But I’m getting a little bored with this—he’s treating me like a twelve-year-old virgin.”

Patrick risked his life by fingering a strand of her hair and slipping it behind her ear. “You’re not, are you?”

Here’s where Angie might have a little trouble. She was smart, but she wasn’t worldly. Especially with men. One of her regrets, actually. She was twenty-three and she’d had a couple of boyfriends and only one had been semiserious. Oh, Alex had been serious to her, but apparently he hadn’t been serious about her. She just shook her head and said, “I told you, I’m twenty-three.”

“I see,” he said. “That was obviously half an answer.”

“The whole answer is no.”

He laughed at her and asked, “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“Tree decorating. And then since everyone is in town for the tree, Mel is going to give me an orientation at the clinic today so that Monday morning I can start helping her out. That’s about it.”

“I have an idea. Why don’t you come to my place tonight. I’ll cook.”

“Dinner?” she asked. “Did you just invite me to dinner?”

“I did. I’m going to try to make up for being so unfriendly—I’m actually a nice guy. Too old for you, but nice. I’m going into Fortuna to get a few things—I make a mean chili and it’ll taste good on a cold night. But if you say yes, I want you to tell Jack where you’re going to be and that you’ll be perfectly safe with that dangerous Riordan.” He laughed and added, “I should’ve known this would happen—my brothers haven’t all been easygoing. I got a reputation by association. So, any interest in a bowl of chili and a fire?”

“Do you have saltines? And shredded cheddar?”

“I will have. Will you tell your uncle?”

She shook her head. “Nope. But I’ll tell Mel so if he’s looking for me, she can keep him under control.”

“I’m serious, Angie—you’ll be in good hands. I’ll treat you like the little sister I never had.”

She smirked and said, “Sounds very exciting. I can hardly wait. What time?”

* * *

Later that afternoon Mel gave Angie a tour of the clinic, which was in an old house that had belonged to the town doctor before he died. He had willed it to Mel. The living room functioned as the waiting room and was decorated like someone’s grandmother’s living room. The dining room was the reception center and file storage. Downstairs also held the kitchen, two small exam/treatment rooms and a little office. Upstairs were a couple of bedrooms—one made up as a hospital room, one for a doctor or practitioner staying overnight, plus a roomy bathroom. Mel showed her where all the supplies were, where the drugs and treatment kits were kept and showed her how to operate the rather old-fashioned autoclaves for sterilizing.

“I love this,” Angie said.

“We could use a lot of updating, but we’re a poor town. Our ace in the hole is the ambulance, which allows us to transport patients to better facilities if necessary.”

“I think it’s wonderful. Do you know what a town in Ethiopia would give for something this grand?”

Mel was stopped in her tracks, focused on Angie’s face. “Hey. What’s going on with you? That was a pretty interesting comment.”

“Nothing much,” she said. “I just think this is—”

“Bullshit. I see those wheels turning. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know. It’s just that…I’m having a hard time seeing myself as one of the doctors who treated me. I mean, they were all incredible and there’s no question they saved my life. But it made me wonder—what happens to people who don’t have UCLA Medical? After the experience I just had, shouldn’t I be ten times as inspired to get back to med school? And yet… Well, that’s what I’ve been thinking about. I’ll figure it out.”

Mel smiled softly. “I’ve only known you for five years, yet in that short time I’ve grown accustomed to the way you think out of the box.”

“But look at this place, Mel—you make a difference here, I know it. When people come here who don’t have money or insurance, they get the help they need. Don’t they?”

“We can’t do everything, but they get our best.”

“And I’ve heard you say—sometimes you’re paid in eggs.”

She laughed. “We’re paid in very interesting ways. One very darling lady from back in the mountains fancies herself a well-known psychic—she offered to pay me by telling me my future.”

Angie gasped. “What is in your future?”

“I can only guess! My past is shocking enough—why would I want to know my future?”

“But what if it’s only wonderful?”

“Then it will still be wonderful when it gets here. Ange, I wouldn’t go to a psychic. I have enough to worry about.”

“But I hear they never tell you the bad stuff!”

“Really?” Mel asked with raised brow. “Then what’s the point? If they don’t tell you what to look out for, what’s the good of hearing about that stuff that will work out just fine, anyway?”

“Oh, there’s so much more to it! I love the idea of a psychic! Maybe I’ll go—do you still have your freebie?”

“I might, but I don’t know…”

“Well, never mind. I have something to tell you.” A slight blush crept up her cheeks as she said, “I’m going to be having dinner with Patrick Riordan tonight. He’s going to cook for us. He insisted I tell Uncle Jack where I’d be and with whom, just in case there’s some worry. But I’m not telling Uncle Jack—he’s gone a little around the bend where I’m concerned. So I’m telling you.”

“Oh, gee, thanks. I just love being the one to keep secrets from Jack,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Angie laughed. “If you sense Jack getting worked up about where I am, you can tell him.”

“So things are getting interesting between you and Patrick?” Mel asked.

“Not quite. In fact, he assured me he would treat me like his little sister tonight.”

Mel smiled. “Why does that make me feel better?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Angie said. “You should probably visit that psychic and ask her why it makes you happy to learn that your adult niece is going to be treated like an inexperienced child!”

“I don’t need a psychic to explain that,” Mel said.

Four

Patrick mixed up his chili and had it ready on the stove. He chopped onion and peppers, added them to the ground beef, then opened a bunch of cans—beans and diced tomatoes—and added packaged seasoning mix. It was a real poor man’s chili, but delicious nonetheless. Then he headed for the phone to call Marie, even though he’d already talked to her for a few minutes in the morning.

When Jake had been killed, Marie left Charleston almost immediately. There was a memorial a week after the crash and then her family swept her away, headed for home—Oklahoma City. The Navy had ensured her move was swift and efficient.

“You don’t have to go,” Patrick had said. “I have a big enough house. Have the Navy put most of your stuff in storage and take your time. You have ties in Charleston—friends, a job, a city you know and like....”

“The hardest thing to leave is you,” she said. “You’ve been such a good friend to me. But you’ll deploy again before long.”

“Not too soon, and I’ll be back. And we’ll keep in touch.”

But she just shook her head. “Navy wives are very supportive of one another, in good times and bad, but my friends shouldn’t be responsible for holding me upright. I’m sure we’ll always be in touch but, like it or not, the Navy part of my life is over. I’m going home.”

A few weeks later, the Navy shrink told him that, rather than going back to the ship, he thought Patrick should take as much leave as the Navy would allow. At that point Patrick headed for Oklahoma City. He stayed in a neighborhood motel near Marie’s parents’ home, intending to be her support for as long as she needed. There was no mistaking she was thrilled to see him even though they’d barely said goodbye in Charleston. But after four days she had said, “Paddy, I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, but you have to check in with your brothers, your family. You need healing as much as I do.”

“We can heal together,” he said. His guilt weighed on him. No matter what anyone else said, Patrick felt as though he had some responsibility in Jake’s death. And now, the least he could do was offer himself up to Marie. He hadn’t been able to save her husband. He should at least be able to save her.

“Right now I’m going to rely on my parents, sister and brother and figure out how to face the holidays without Jake. Go to your family and let them comfort you.”

He tried to argue a bit; his family wasn’t expecting him for the holidays—he was supposed to be at sea. Jake’s death might’ve changed a few things for him but the Riordans had other plans.

“It’s not like they won’t be grateful for a visit,” Marie had said. “And in some ways your wonderful vigilance makes this even harder. We’ll be in touch and we’ll see each other again soon when we’re both a little stronger. Then we can spend more time laughing over the good times we had with Jake and less time crying and agonizing over our loss.”

That’s when Patrick had reached out to Aiden and asked about the cabin. No doubt he could have counted on either Luke or Colin for a bed, but he couldn’t stay with anyone right now. He had to be alone because of the nightmares. They didn’t come every night, but often enough. He’d managed to get all that leave without even mentioning the dreams, but he’d be damned if he’d wake up screaming in his brother’s house. He said he needed privacy and quiet and everyone bought it.

There was a part of him that had been disappointed when Marie sent him on his way, but a part of him was enormously relieved. With Marie he could lick his wounds and have company while missing Jake, but it was all a reminder that there was no one special in his life. And that he’d put far too much stock in a woman who hadn’t been there for him—Leigh. And it reminded him of how much responsibility he now carried. He had to look after Marie and Daniel, perhaps forever. He’d given his word.

But while his chili simmered, he called Marie again. “How are you doing?” he asked instead of saying hello.

“Pretty well, actually,” she said. “I forgot to tell you—last week, before Thanksgiving, I made an appointment with an employment counselor. I’m going to see him next week. I know jobs are scarce in this economy, but I’m a certified radiology technician. Jobs might not spring up over the holidays, but I’m a qualified candidate and I’ll be ready in the new year. And you know what? It feels kind of good to get started.”

“You’re committed to Oklahoma City?” he asked.

She answered with a laugh. “What are my choices, Paddy?”

“Well…there’s always Charleston.”

“Aw, sweetheart, I don’t have any family there and I have a son to raise.”

“I’m still there.”

“You’re there a few months a year. Listen, that was a hard enough gig when I had a husband coming home to me. It’s not going to work with my dead husband’s best friend.”

“It could,” he said. “I will always be there for you.”

“You are a saint and might live to regret it. I could be calling on you till I’m a lonely ninety-year-old widow. What you need, Patrick, is a woman.”

“Oh, really?” he said.

“You and Leigh parted company a long time ago, and unless you’re really good at covering your feelings, you weren’t real surprised and not all that disappointed.”

“I was very surprised and disappointed!”

“All right, all right,” she said, surprising him with a laugh. “You bounced back well and good for you. What I’m saying is, you can find a good woman now. It no longer has the danger of rebound written all over it. Just look around, Patrick.”

“In Virgin River? Right.”

“They’re forming a line in Charleston as we speak,” she said, teasing him. “Paddy, you’re there for me, I’m there for you, but, my darling friend, you’re going to find the right woman before long. You just have to be open to it.”

Having chili with a cute little package tonight, he thought. Just not girlfriend material. “Right. Sure. Meantime, I have a house in Charleston where you had a life—where you can still have one. Keep an open mind, all right? Because you and Daniel are family to me.”

“You’re very sweet,” she said. “The best friend a widow girl could have.”

He didn’t say much to that, just asked after her folks, Daniel and the weather and then said goodbye. It was too soon for her to think of him as more than a friend. But he had begun to formulate a plan in his mind. He was almost thirty-four and wanted stability in his life—a woman he could depend on, a family, a future he could trust as much as was possible. And here he was—committed to his best friend’s widow. Wasn’t it smart to form a committed relationship with someone who was a best friend, someone he could depend on, someone he really knew? He wasn’t in love with her, at least not in the conventional sense, but how important was that in the grand scheme of things? She was an awesome woman, very pretty, extremely smart, an excellent mother and had unshakable values. He could step into Jake’s shoes effortlessly. He could love her for a lifetime; he would never regret it. He was trying to remember what more there was to consider, to hold out for, when there was a knock at the door.

He opened it to find Angie huddling into her thick jacket, a fresh young beauty wearing a smile sent to earth by the angels. Her hair was thick and soft, her eyes large and dark, her cheeks flushed and lips full and pink. Had he warned her not to get mixed up with the likes of him? What a damn fool he was—the mere sight of her made him forget Marie and long to hold her. She tempted him beyond sanity. A young woman like this would be his downfall for certain. He needed maturity; he wanted the kind of woman he knew he could count on. What did a woman know at twenty-three?

“Your directions were fine, but because of the dark I missed the turnoff three times.”

“Sorry,” he said lamely, standing in the open door.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He shook himself. “Sorry,” he said again. “I just hung up from talking to Marie, my friend’s widow. I’ll shake it off in a second. Come on in.”

“Listen, if you need to cancel, if this turned out to be a bad night, after all…”

“Nah, come in.”

She stepped into the cabin uncertainly. “It probably puts you in a kind of sad, grieving place.”

“Not usually,” he said. “I try to talk to her for a few minutes every day. Can I get you a beer? I saw you have a beer at Jack’s so I bought a six-pack. Sam Adams okay?”

She laughed softly. “You bought it just for tonight? You might be the only guy I know who doesn’t stock beer. Sam Adams is great, thanks.”

“Chili’s ready and keeping warm, but take off your jacket and relax by the fire for a while first.”

“Wow—this place is awesome,” she said, looking around the great room. “No wonder you wanted to take a little R and R here.”

He fetched a couple of beers and joined her on the couch. “My brother’s wife practically rebuilt the place out of a shack a couple of years ago.” He handed her a beer.

“You’re a good friend, you know. It’s too bad your friend, Marie’s husband, doesn’t get a chance to see what an excellent friend you are, calling her every day.”

Oh, he’d be very surprised, Patrick thought. What would Jake think of Patrick nurturing the idea of picking up where he’d left off? But he said, “He’d expect nothing less. And if I’d left a wife and child, he’d do the same. We’ve been tight since the Academy. Almost fifteen years. We haven’t always been stationed together, but it never mattered.” He couldn’t help it, he looked down. “I wish we hadn’t been assigned together a couple of months ago.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

“What if it was?” he shot back. He wiped a hand over his face. “Okay, we shouldn’t go there. The investigation showed it was hostile, but I was responsible for him. If I’m still a little scarred, it’s probably reasonable. Quick, use your young, nubile, med student mind to change the subject to safer territory.”

She grinned suddenly. “You find my mind nubile?”

Right, he thought, like every other part of you. Then he remembered that while she might look quite young, she was brilliant. She’d catch everything.

“All right,” she said. “Tell me about what you were like growing up and how it was with four older brothers, all very close in age.”

“On one condition,” he said. “You have to promise not to ask any of them the same question.”

“And why is that?”

“Because they will tell stories.”

“I’m not sure I can promise that,” she said with a laugh. “Come on.”

“Well, being the youngest, they protected me all my life, but the price was very high. They’d always be there for me, but they’d never let me forget a single slip or embarrassing moment. I’m thirty-three and I’m still hearing about the night I got caught making out at my girlfriend’s house. By her mom and dad.”

She looked a little nonplussed. “That’s not exactly original. Everyone’s been caught kissing.”

“Her sweater was in my hand and her bra was draped over the lampshade. They came home early....”

She laughed happily. “More,” she demanded.

“I peed on the side of a highway patrolman’s car.”

“Awww, well, little boys sometimes have lapses in judgment like that.”

“I was twenty-five. And had been out with my brothers. I blame them.”

“It sounds like they taught you everything you know. I was wondering about when you were much younger.”

“It’s not good stuff. I was the last one to give up a binky, the slowest to potty train, was lost several times—once requiring police intervention—and my mother thought I’d be taking my blanket with me to football camp. It suggests I liked being the baby. I didn’t pay attention in school until my football and basketball careers were on the line, which started in junior high. But I was always very nice.”

“What do you mean by that? Nice?”

“As my mother said, I knew where to butter my bread. Luke said I was a little con artist, Colin called me the family phony, Sean said I was an ass kisser, but Aiden always liked me and found me sincere. Aiden was the only one who was wrong. I was definitely a kiss ass.”

This made her laugh and, since he liked the sound, he went on. “By the time I was ten, Luke had enlisted. When I was twelve, Colin went in, both of them Army warrant officers who flew helicopters. When I was fourteen Sean had an Air Force Academy slot with a pipeline to a flying job—you can only get jets if you go to an Academy these days, you can’t enlist and sign up for flight school. Then Aiden headed for college on a Navy scholarship—he’s a doctor. It was down to me. In my mind, the only choice left was deciding which branch of the military I’d join. I got an appointment to the Naval Academy. I went to the same senator Sean had gotten his recommendation from—you can’t get into an Academy without serious political juice.”

She sat back on his sofa, shock on her face. She took a drink of her Sam Adams and then continued to stare.

“What?” he asked.

“How’d you do in the Academy?” She wanted to know.

“I did fine.”

“How fine?”

“Well. I did well. I graduated second in the class. Got a couple of awards.”

“And flight school?”

He narrowed his eyes. First in his class. Every class. “Well,” he said.

“You little pisser, teasing me about my nubile brain. You were an overachiever.”

“Who spent about four years in diapers…”

“With a binky in your mouth. There isn’t a single prescription for brainiacs, except it sounds like growing up with four older brothers might have put you in want of a brotherhood and the Academy. Flight school and a military career would fit right into your pattern. And apparently you were a lot more social than I was.”

“Do you know everything?”

“I read.”

“I read, too. But not about stuff like that.”

“I know. You’re reading weapons systems, math, aerospace, combat strategy, et cetera. I’m a science major who loves psychology. My degrees are in biology and chemistry with a minor in psych. I’m kind of drawn to the study of genetics, statistics, environmental science, DNA studies, that sort of thing.” She shrugged and said, “That’s how I relax. Reading that stuff.”

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