“Yeah,” he said. “It’s a first for me.”

“So, in some ways, you’re just a virgin from Virgin River.”

“In this, I am.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“This is madness, I want you all the time. I feel like a kid.”

“You don’t act like a kid,” she said.

“Melinda—I have had more erections in the last week than I’ve had in the last decade. Every time you walk by, I have to concentrate on something else. This hasn’t happened to me since I was sixteen, when anything from a beer commercial to a geography assignment could put me in agony. It was almost laughable, if it wasn’t just so ridiculous.”

“Raging hormones,” she said with a laugh. “You are an amazing lover.”

“I’m not doing this alone,” he said. “You’re pretty amazing yourself. Damn, baby. We fit together real nice.”

“Jack—does everyone in town know?”

“They’d be guessing. I haven’t said anything.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you have to.”

“We could try to keep it quiet, if that works better for you. I could manage to not look at you like I’m going to have you for dessert, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s just that…well, you know. I have these issues.”

“I know. I held you through some major issues. And I do understand that it’s going to take more than a little sex to resolve all that.” He grinned. “Good sex.”

“Very good sex.”

“Oh, yeah…” he agreed breathlessly.

“Just so you know. I’m still all screwed up. I don’t want to disappoint you. Jack, I don’t want to hurt you.”

He ran a hand down her body, lightly brushing her soft, warm skin. “Mel, this doesn’t hurt.” He smiled. “It feels real, real good. Don’t worry about me.” He gave her a light kiss. “You want to try to keep this…us…quiet? Private?”

“Think it would work?”

“There’s probably no point in pretending,” he said. “It’s your call.”

“Oh, what the hell,” she said. “It isn’t against the law, is it?”

He leaned over her and kissed her more deeply. “It probably should be.” He kissed her again.

In the early morning as dawn was just beginning to streak through the cabin windows, Jack was stirred awake by the soft sound of slightly off-key humming. He found Mel nestled into the crook of his arm, her breath tickling his chest. She was purring, humming, her lips moving slightly, as though singing. It might’ve troubled him if her expression had been sad or disturbed. But she was smiling. She snuggled closer, throwing a leg over his. And this sleepy little music, contented, drifted out of her. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d spent the entire night in bed with a woman. And already, he couldn’t imagine waking up alone. He pulled her closer knowing he’d never been happier in his life.

Chapter Twelve

R ick called Liz every couple of days, although he wanted to call her seven times a day. His pulse always picked up when he dialed, then the sound of her voice made it race.

“Lizzie, how you doing?” he’d ask.

“I miss you,” she would always say. “You said you’d come over.”

“I’m going to. I’m trying. But with school and work…So, how are…things?”

“I just wish I was there, instead of here.” Then she’d laugh. “Funny, I hated my mother for making me go to Aunt Connie’s, and now I hate her for making me stay here.”

“Don’t hate your mom, Liz. Don’t.”

Then they’d talk for a while, about kids, about school, about Virgin River and Eureka, just mundane stuff. She never volunteered any information about the feared pregnancy.

Rick was dying a million deaths. He was terrified something had gone wrong and she was caught with a baby on that one and only night. But almost worse than that, he wasn’t sure what was happening to him, in his head, in his body. He dreamt about her, wanted to feel his arms around her, wanted to smell her hair and kiss her lips. He wanted her breast in one hand, but he also wanted to have her riding beside him in that little truck on the way to and from school, cracking jokes, laughing, holding hands. This phone call was no different than the others had been. Then she asked, “Why don’t you come to Eureka?”

He drew a heavy breath. “I’ll tell you the truth, Liz—I’m afraid to. You and me, we get pretty worked up.”

“But you have those rubbers…”

“I told you before, that’s not enough. You have to get something, too. Pills or something.”

“How’m I gonna do that? I don’t even drive. You think I should say to my mom,

‘Hey, I have to get some birth control—me and Ricky want to do it’?”

“If you were here, you could see Mel. Maybe you can talk your mom into a visit to Virgin River.” But even as he said that, he cringed. And flushed so hot he thought he might faint. Was he really suggesting to a fourteen-year-old that she get herself fixed up so they could have sex? In the cab of a truck?

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I think I would hate that. I don’t think I could tell someone who’s like, grown-up. Could you?”

He already had; Preacher and Jack both knew. But he said, “I could if it was this important.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”

If you couldn’t stop dreaming about a girl, if you constantly thought about the way her hair felt against your cheek, if you couldn’t get the softness of her skin out of your mind, did that mean you loved her? If you felt a little better after every time you talked to her, heard her laugh, did that mean anything, or were you just this horny sixteen-year-old boy? He knew he was that—the thought of getting inside her again almost made steam come out of his ears. But there was other stuff. He could talk to Liz; he could listen to her. Wanted to listen to her. He could almost go into a trance when she told him about something as boring as algebra. If he had one drop of courage, he’d ask Jack—what is love and what is sex? When are they the same thing?

Finally he asked, “Any news about being pregnant, Lizzie?”

“You mean…?”

“Yeah, I mean that.” Silence answered him. She was going to make him say it, once again. Every time he asked, his gut clenched just from forming the words, words alien to a boy. “Did you get your period?” he asked, grateful she couldn’t see the color of his cheeks.

“That’s all you really care about.”

“No, but I care about it a lot. Liz, baby, if I got you in trouble, I’m gonna want to die, okay? I just want the scare over, that’s all. For both of us.”

“Not yet—but that’s okay. I told you—I’m not regular. And I feel fine. I don’t feel like anything’s different.”

“I guess that’s something,” he said.

“Ricky, I miss you. Do you miss me?”

“Ohhh, Liz,” he said in an exhausted breath. “I miss you so much it scares the hell out of me.”

Mel made a few phone calls the following week, then asked Jack if he could pry himself away from the bar for a full day to run some errands with her. She wanted to drive into Eureka, she said. And she didn’t want to go alone. Of course he said he could—he did anything she asked of him. He offered to drive, but she told him she’d like to take her car, put the top down and enjoy the sunny June weather. When they were underway, she said, “I hope this wasn’t too presumptuous of me, Jack. I made myself an appointment at the beauty shop and one for you at the clinic—

that testing you offered.”

“I was going to run over to the coast, to the Naval Air Station there, but this is just as convenient. I meant it when I offered. I want you to feel safe.”

“I’m not worried, really. It’s just a precaution. And if anything turns up, I’ll get screened. I wouldn’t put you at risk, you understand. But the last seven years, it was only…” She stopped.

“Your husband,” he finished for her. “You can say it. That was your life. That is your life. We have to be able to talk about it.”

“Well,” she said, gathering herself up again. “Then, I’ve made arrangements to testdrive a vehicle and I’d like your opinion. A vehicle that doesn’t get stuck in the mud.”

“Really?” he said, surprised. “What kind of vehicle?”

She stole a glance at him, so neatly folded up in the front of her BMW, his knees sticking up so high it almost made her laugh. “A Hummer,” she said. He was speechless. Finally he said, “I guess you know what they cost.”

“I know,” she said.

“Hope’s paying you better than I would’ve guessed.”

“Hope’s paying me practically nothing—but it also costs me practically nothing to live. Especially with that end-of-the-day cold beer on the house every night. No, this is my own investment.”

He whistled.

“I have a little money,” she said. “There were…there was…”

He reached across the console and put a hand on her thigh. “It’s all right, Mel. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You didn’t pry!” she exclaimed. “You don’t even ask, which is amazing to me. Here it is—there were investments. Retirement. Insurance. I sold the house at a ridiculous profit. And then there was a wrongful death suit—pending. It’ll settle. The little scumbag came from money. Jack, I have plenty of money. More than I really need.”

She glanced over at him. “I’d appreciate it if that went no further.”

“No one even knows you’re widowed,” he told her.

She took a deep breath. “So—I had a long talk with June Hudson, the doctor in Grace Valley. I asked her what she’d do to turn an all-wheel-drive vehicle into a makeshift ambulance, and I have quite a shopping list. If it works out I’ll have a vehicle that can not only get me and Doc all over valley and into the hills, but get our patients to the hospital when we need to, without me sitting in the back of a pickup, holding an IV

bag up in the air.”

“That’s a lot to do for a little town like Virgin River,” he said, and he said it very quietly.

He’d done a lot for the little town, too, she thought. He renovated a cabin into a bar and grill, served meals at low prices all day long. Drinks were cheap and it served more as a gathering place than a profit-making establishment. He probably didn’t need Ricky in there, but clearly he was a surrogate father. And Preacher—there was no question he was looking out for him, as well. But then, it probably didn’t take much for Jack to get by, either—he’d done most of the renovation work himself, collected a retirement from the military, and surely eked out a modest but completely adequate income from the place. And at the same time, enjoyed his life. Mainly what Jack did for the town was sit at the center of it, helping anyone who needed anything. Anyone who served the needs of the town, like Doc or Mel, and lately the occasional sheriff’s deputy or highway patrol officer ate free. He’d do repairs, babysit, deliver meals and absolutely never went for supplies without phoning up little old ladies like Frannie and Maud, to ask if they needed anything. He’d done that with her, too. Behaved as though it was his mission to serve her needs.

“That little town has accidentally done a few things for me, too,” she said. “I’m starting to feel like I might live after all. A lot of that is because of you, Jack.”