Author: Robyn Carr
“I don’t,” he said. “I was hoping a family would turn up.” He peered at her over his glasses. “Seems like maybe you need some time to think about it.”
“No,” she said, somewhat tremulously. “If you’re okay, I’m okay.”
“Think it over, just the same. I’ll walk across the street and see if anyone’s willing to play cribbage. Then, if you’re of a mind, we’ll take her out to the Anderson ranch.”
“Okay,” she said. But she said it very quietly.
Jack was painfully, embarrassingly aware that Mel had only been in town three weeks, and he could think of little else. Fact was, from the moment he looked at her in the dim light of the bar that first night, he wanted to sit right down at that table with her and get to know her.
He saw her every day, and given their meals together and long conversations, he knew himself to be her closest friend at the moment. And yet there was much about herself she was concealing. She was open about having lost her parents young, her close relationship with her sister and sister’s family, her nursing career, the crazy and chaotic life at the hospital, but it was as though there was a block of time missing. Him, Jack thought. The one who devastated her and left her hurt and lonely. Jack would drive him away, given half a chance.
He wished he knew what it was that had hooked him so quickly, so thoroughly. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that was evident. True, there weren’t any pretty, single women around town, but he hadn’t been lonely. And Mel hadn’t been the only sexy woman he’d laid eyes on in the past few years. He was hardly a hermit; he’d been to lots of the other towns, the coastal towns, to night spots. There’d been Clear River. But Mel had some aura that had him all worked up. That tight little body, full breasts, compact fanny, rosy lips, not to mention some real sexy brains—it was all he could do to keep from breathing heavy in her presence. When she had those moments when whatever plagued her was forgotten, and she smiled or laughed, her whole face brightened up. Her blue eyes danced. He’d already dreamed of her; felt her hands all over his body, felt her beneath him, felt himself inside of her, heard her soft moans of pleasure and bam! He awoke to find himself as alone as ever, bathed in sweat. Jack was already turned on before Mel dropped Nick on his ass, but if he hadn’t been, that sure would have sealed the deal. She was a dynamo. Gorgeous, feminine little thing with one helluva punch. Whoa. Damn.
The vulnerability in her eyes warned him he’d better be very, very careful. One wrong move and she’d jump in that little BMW and shake the dust of Virgin River off the soles of her shoes, the town’s medical needs notwithstanding. He reminded himself constantly that this was one reason he hadn’t sprung the cabin on her yet. Walking away from her last week after Joy’s party had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He had wanted nothing so much as to crush her to him and say, it’s going to be all right—I can make it all right, all good. Give me a chance. Doc and Preacher sat at a table in the bar, playing cribbage. Jack put a slice of Preacher’s apple pie on a plate, covered it with Saran wrap and left the bar to walk across the street. No cars or trucks at Doc’s except Doc’s truck and that little BMW
parked on the side. All clear, he thought, his pulse picking up. He opened the front door and looked around; no one. He thought to go tap on the office door, but a sound from the kitchen led him there instead.
The baby in her little Plexiglas bed on wheels sat near the warm stove and Mel was at the table, her head down, resting on her folded arms. And she sobbed. He rushed to her; he put the pie on the table and was down on one knee at the side of her chair, all in one movement. “Mel,” he said.
She lifted her head, her cheeks chafed and pink. “Dammit,” she said through her tears.
“You caught me.”
His hand was on her back. “What is it?” he asked gently. Now, he thought. Now she’ll tell me about it, let me help her through it.
“I’ve found a home for the baby. Someone came in and offered to take her and Doc endorses it.”
“Who?” he asked.
“Lilly Anderson,” she said, large tears spilling over. “Oh, Jack. I let it happen. I got attached.” And she leaned against his shoulder and wept.
Jack forgot everything. “Come here,” he said, pulling her out of the chair. He traded places with her and pulled her down on his lap. She encircled his neck with her arms, her face buried in his shoulder, crying, and he gently stroked her back. His lips were on her soft hair. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”
“I let it happen,” she said into his shirt. “Stupid. I knew better. I even named her. What was I thinking?”
“You gave her affection,” he said. “You were so good to her. I’m sorry it hurts.” But he wasn’t sorry, because he had his arms around her and it felt as he knew it would, her little body, warm and solid, against his. She was light as a feather on his lap, her arms around his neck like ribbons, and the sweet, fragrant smell of her hair coiled around his brain and tightened, addling his thoughts.
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “I thought about taking her,” she said.
“Running away with her. That’s how crazy I am. Jack, you should know—I’m totally nuts.”
He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “If you want her, Mel, you can try to adopt her.”
“The Andersons,” she said. “Doc says they’re good people. A good family.”
“They are. Salt of the earth.”
“And that would be better for her than a single mother who works all the time,” she said. “She needs a real bed, not this incubator. A real family, not a midwife and an old doctor.”
“There are lots of different kinds of families.”
“Oh, I know what’s best.” Then the tears began to flow again. “It’s just so hard.” And she laid her head back on his shoulder. His arms tightened around her and hers tightened around his neck. He closed his eyes and just rested his cheek against her hair.
Feeling these strong arms around her, Mel let herself sink into a good, heartfelt cry. She was fully aware of him, but what really mattered to her at the moment was that for the first time in almost a year of crying, she wasn’t alone. Someone was holding her and she felt protected. There was the comfort of strength and warmth, and she welcomed it. His chambray shirt was soft against her cheek and his thighs hard beneath her. He had a wonderful scent of cologne and the outdoors and she felt safe with him. His hand stroked her back and she was aware that he softly kissed her hair. He rocked her gently as she continued to dampen his shirt. Minutes passed and her weeping slowed to a sniffle, then a murmur. She lifted her head and looked at him, though she said nothing. His brain went numb. He touched her lips softly with his, gently, tentatively. Her eyes closed as she allowed this and his arms tightened around her as he pressed more firmly against her lips. Hers opened and his breath caught as he opened his own and felt her small tongue dart into his mouth. His world reeled and he was lost in a kiss that deepened, that moved him, that shook him.
“Don’t,” she whispered against his mouth. “Don’t get mixed up with me, Jack.”
He kissed her again, holding her against him as though he would never let her go.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said against her lips.
“You don’t understand. I have nothing to give. Nothing.”
“I haven’t asked you for a thing,” he said. But in his mind he was saying, you’re mistaken. You are giving, and taking—and it feels damn good. All Mel could think, in the abstract, was that her body for once wasn’t hollow and so empty she ached. She drank it in, the feeling of being connected to something. To someone. Anchored. So wonderful to have that human contact again. In her soul she had forgotten how, but her body remembered. “You’re a good man, Jack,” she said against his lips. “I don’t want you to be hurt. Because I can’t love anyone.”
All he said was, “I can take care of myself.”
She kissed him again. Deeply. Passionately. For a long minute; two minutes, moving under his mouth with heat.
And the baby fussed.
She pulled away from him. “Oh, man, why’d I do that?” she asked. “That’s a mistake.”
He shrugged. “Mistake? Nah. We’re friends,” he said. “We’re close. You needed some comfort and—and here I am.”
“That just can’t happen,” she said, sounding a little desperate. He took charge, feeling his own sense of desperation. “Mel, stop it. You were crying. That’s all.”
“I was kissing,” she said. “And so were you!”
He smiled at her. “You are so hard on yourself sometimes. It’s okay to feel something that doesn’t hurt once in a while.”
“Promise me that won’t happen again!”
“It won’t if you don’t want it to. But let me tell you something—if you do want it to, I’m going to let you. You know why? Because I like kissing. And I don’t beat myself up about it.”
“I’m not doing that,” she said. “I just don’t want to be stupid.”
“You’re punishing yourself. I can’t figure out why. But,” he said, lifting her off his lap and putting her on her feet. “You get to call the shots. Personally, I think you secretly like me. Trust me. And I think for a minute there, you also liked kissing me.”
He grinned at her. “I could tell. I’m so smart that way.”
“You’re just desperate for a little female companionship,” she said.
“Oh, there are females around. That has nothing to do with anything.”
“Still—you have to promise.”
“Sure,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I need.”
He stood up and looked down at her. He had warned himself of this and stupidly ignored his own warnings. He had to renew that trust. Fast. He lifted her chin with a finger and looked into her pretty, sad eyes. “Would you like me to take you and Chloe to the Anderson ranch? If I promise not to kiss you anymore?”
“Would you?” she said. “I want to take her, to see where she’ll live. And I don’t think I want to be alone.”
Jack knew it was imperative that Mel regain her sense of control. He went back to the bar to get his truck and poked his head in. “Doc, I’m going to drive Mel and the baby out to Andersons’. You okay with that?”
“Sure,” the old boy said, not looking up from his game.
When Mel had the few amassed baby things packed up, he took her. They had no car seat, so she held the baby—and she got a little teary. But once they had traversed the long road up into the hills and were passing through the fenced pastures of grazing sheep, he could see that she was pulling herself together. Lilly Anderson brought them into her home—a simple house that spoke of the abundance of life. The floors and windows were shining from the housekeeping attention they received; there were folded quilts on the ends of sofas and draped over chairs, crewel pictures on the walls, the smell of freshly baked bread, a pie cooling on the counter and dozens of pictures of children, of family, a collection that spanned many years. A wicker bassinet stood ready for Chloe. Lilly made Mel tea and they sat at the kitchen table and talked while Jack went with Buck to the corral where his grown sons had begun the spring shearing.
“I’ll be honest with you, Lilly. I got pretty attached to her.”
Lilly reached across the table for her hand. “It’s perfectly understandable. You should come out here often, hold her, rock her. You should stay close.”