Hidden Summit (8 page)

It took a long time to place all those flowers. By the time the afternoon sun was sinking in the west, most of Leslie’s yard was flush with color. Flowers lined her front and back porches, her walk, her fence in the backyard, bobbed in a ring around the trees in the yard and the mailbox. And the two of them were filthy.

“Wow,” she said. “You’re a lot more ambitious than I am.”

“Like I said, I might’ve gotten a little carried away. Been a long time since I brought a woman flowers.”

“They sell those in the grocery store, you know. Five bucks, you put ’em in a vase, the woman thinks you’re a real catch.”

The smile again, dimple and all. “I didn’t want to leave any doubt.”

She thought about that briefly. “Listen, we can have this discussion later, about how my mission here has nothing to do with getting involved with a man. But for now I want you to put away all the garden stuff and wash your hands. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get us takeout at Jack’s. I’m too exhausted to even make us sandwiches and too dirty to eat at the bar.”

She took off her shoes, brushed her jeans free of dirt and went inside to wash her hands and grab her purse.

She returned just ten minutes later with a brown paper bag and two bottles of beer. “I have a half bottle of Merlot on the counter, but I’ve never seen you drink wine.” She lifted the bottles. “Will this do it for you?”

“You are a goddess.”

She looked down at herself. Dirty, disheveled, exhausted. “You must be more desperate than you look.”

Leslie served up the dinner while Conner scrubbed his hands. While they sat at her little table with Preacher’s slow-cooked ribs, potato salad and beans, they talked about safe things—being Catholic, having a sibling or being an only child, missing parents versus being close to parents. She was distracted by the deep blue of his eyes and the fact that he’d arrived in the morning with his cheeks clean-shaven and now his beard was growing in. They toasted the yard, clinking wineglass to beer bottle. They talked about work; they gossiped about some of the crew and laughed over Dan’s proclivity for shedding his prosthetic leg to work and balancing with an empty pant leg flapping in the wind.

“I didn’t know he was an amputee,” Leslie said.

“Neither did I, until I came to work and saw a leg lying on the floor. He’s better on one leg than most of us are on two.” He drained his second beer. “I’ll help you wash up and store the leftovers.”

“No, you won’t. I think you’ve put in a long enough day. I’ll walk you to the door.” And once there, she turned toward him and said, “Thank you, Conner. It’s beautiful and it turned into a fun day.”

He slipped his hands to her waist and pulled her in for a hug. “I had a good time,” he said. She patted his upper arms, and when she tried to pull back, he held on. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply, letting out a small, low moan.

“I’m all sweaty from yard work,” she whispered.

“Hmm. How do you do that? Sweat, soap and flowers?” He opened his lips slightly, taking a little taste of her flesh. “Wow,” he said softly.

But she didn’t resist. In fact she tilted her head slightly. “Okay, this is flirting,” she said in a throaty voice.

“I don’t flirt,” he said, giving her neck a lick, followed by a little kiss. “I just go after what I want, that’s all.” And he gave her several small kisses that ran right up to her earlobe. And then he pulled back and smiled into her wide eyes.

“Look, I’m only going to explain this once. It should be obvious to you. Since I’m trying to recover from a divorce—”

“And an ex-husband who’s a nutcase,” he added for her.

“And that. I am not getting involved romantically.”

He gave a nod. “Perfectly understandable.”

“Period.”

“Got it,” he said. “But really, how do you do that? Did you sneak a shower at Jack’s? Because you look like you should taste like sweat, dirt and compost, but you’re sweet.”

“Did you hear me?” she asked him.

“Absolutely. I have some of the same issues. Would you like to go see a movie tomorrow?”

“No!”

“That’s too bad. I think I’ll go anyway. I haven’t been to a movie in a long time,” he said.

“So maybe you think this could work out for you as a
non
-relationship, but I don’t do non-relationships, either. Am I clear?”

“Les, I didn’t propose anything. I licked your neck, which by the way was delicious. I’ll see you at work Monday. Don’t forget to water.” He put a light kiss on her forehead and gave her butt a pat. And he was out the door, down the walk and in the truck without looking back.

She shivered. “Whew,” she said aloud.

Conner’s workweek was busier than usual, starting with loading the trailer that served as Paul’s construction office so it could be transported across the mountain to another site. Just getting it ready for the tow took hours, the entire morning. As it got on its way, Paul and Dan talked about another project in town—the erection of a prefab building that would serve as a school. When Conner heard that it was a volunteer project, that some local men and some of Paul’s construction crews were doing it without pay, he said, “Sign me up. My dance card isn’t full.”

“It’s a project for the town,” Paul made sure to clarify. “When we do something for the town, we don’t take pay. It’s like plowing in winter, towing a motorist or searching for someone who’s lost—strictly neighbor to neighbor. We completely understand if you want to put your hours in on the clock. I’m sure you need the money.”

Conner gave a shrug. “I’m sure you do, too. I’ll be glad to work on it. The more people who pitch in, the faster it goes, right?”

“That’s a fact,” Dan said, giving him a slap on the shoulder.

And that’s when it got more interesting. Conner saw a lot of familiar faces; the bar had been closed so Jack, Preacher and Denny could help put up the school. Mike Valenzuela was there as well as many of the ranchers and farmers he’d met at the bar. He learned there had been a trust left to the town that would pay the teacher, Becca, the pretty young lady engaged to Denny. The land on which the building would sit was loaned, the building itself was paid for out of the trust managed by Jack, which made him like the unofficial mayor of Virgin River.

At some point during the afternoon of construction, nearly everyone showed up to watch. When Brie came around, Conner snuck a quiet moment. “I wish I could tell Katie about this, about how the town rallies like this.”

“Better not to,” she said, shaking her head. “Rule of thumb—before we get to trial, don’t mention anything that can be looked up on Google.”

“That’s too bad,” he said. “She’d really get a kick out of this. This is the kind of thing Katie loves.”

For the first three days of the week he was busy working for Paul in the mornings, helping finish the construction on the school in the afternoons. Then he went with Dan to start tearing out kitchen cabinets in Redway, ready to start installing a new kitchen on Monday morning.

He didn’t see Leslie all week. He spent considerable time in town, working on the school and having dinner at Jack’s, and he also drove by her house a couple of times to see if she might be out watering her plants. The temptation to knock on her door was powerful, but he resisted. If he didn’t leave her alone to think about things, this whole proposition would backfire.

By Saturday, he’d had enough of his exile. He helped work on the school much of the day and in the afternoon he drove to Fortuna, but he wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t park right in front of that silly turquoise coffee shop. Instead he parked across the street at the tattoo parlor. Then he went inside and ordered a coffee, a tea and two slices of pie.

Just as before, at around the dinner hour, the place was deserted but for one young man who appeared to be a student busy on his laptop. Conner settled right into their girlie little sitting area.

Leslie felt she had always had a confidence problem. For a while as a wife, a good wife, she’d felt sure of herself, and then Greg had answered her loaded question and said, “Yes, honey, there has been someone else. And I just can’t live without her, it’s that simple.”

It didn’t stay simple. Even though she’d been betrayed, Leslie had tried to convince Greg to try to work it out with her, to go to counseling or something. If he would just give up Allison and
try....
But he’d been packing as he talked. And Leslie had reached one of her all-time lowest moments—she’d clung to him and begged him not to leave their marriage. She had literally fallen to her knees and grabbed his legs. Just the thought that she’d ever risk revisiting such a place in her life was more than she could bear. She would never be brought that low again—it was humiliating. So she had come to Virgin River with a very firm resolve—she’d do without a man, and if there ever was one, he would be a man she didn’t care much about.

And yet, like one of those songs you can’t get out of your head, she kept feeling Conner’s bristly, closely trimmed whiskers on her neck. She missed him. She wanted his seduction, his power and his tenderness. She wanted laughter. She wanted to risk herself again, though it terrified her. She had fantasized about those arms around her for a week, and in each one she was wearing less. And less.
And
less…

She went to yoga to stretch out and then to her favorite coffee shop for her tea. He was the first thing she saw in the shop. He grinned at her, and her hand automatically touched her neck where she had felt his whiskers all week. He was seated at that little coffee table with coffee in front of him and tea in that place that would be hers. Her first thought was to wonder if it would be bad form to throw herself on him and taste his mustache.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said. “What a surprise.”

Six

L
eslie walked right over to where Conner sat. “What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“What do you think?” he returned. “Hoping to run into you. How was your week?”

“Fine,” she said. “Do you expect me to believe you’re just being friendly?”

“I haven’t been anything else. I haven’t seen you all week and I thought maybe you could use a piece of pie. Or something.”

“I thought I told you—”

“Yes, you told me. You can’t eat pie and you can’t get involved and you can’t be uninvolved. That’s going to be tricky. Sit down anyway—I got you some tea and a slice of pie. It’s apple.”

“I’ve been trying to watch my weight....”

“I heard all about that. Just a taste,” he said. “I’ll eat whatever you leave. You don’t have to watch your weight, Les. You’re perfect. You’d still be perfect twenty pounds heavier, so don’t punish yourself.” He shook out a paper napkin, slid forward on his chair, put a small bite on the end of a fork and held it toward her. “Come on. I’ve given you a week to stew and now it’s time to sort it out. With pie.”

She wondered if this was a good idea, but with a fork of apple pie hovering at her lips, she let him feed her. It wasn’t the pie that tempted her.

“It’s been an interesting week,” he said. “I worked in town some with Dan and Paul and some others, getting that school building up. Everyone who worked on that project did it without pay. It’s been a long time since I did anything like that—volunteer work. Community service. Felt good. And I drove by your house a couple of times to see how the flowers were holding up—I’d say we did a damn fine job on the yard.” He took a sip of his coffee. “If you’re not planning to plant the back forty tomorrow, I think we should grab a movie and dinner. I helped out on that school today and they’re going to be there again tomorrow but I could use a day off.”

The student seated behind Conner snapped closed his laptop and tucked it under his arm to leave.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to tempt fate....”

“Fate? No. Just you.”

“Oh, that was blunt,” she said.

“I know, I’m bad that way. Sometimes I’m too honest. It can make people uncomfortable. I didn’t really mean what you think, Les. I understand some of your worries. They’re an awful lot like mine. I haven’t asked a woman out on a date of any kind for a long, long time. I haven’t even asked for a phone number or bought one a drink. I just didn’t want to—as you put it—tempt fate. I know you don’t want to be in a position where you end up getting disappointed. Me, either. I had the same thing happen—she cheated. We divorced. I’m still pissed off about it.”

Leslie was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry we have that in common.”

“Yeah, it shouldn’t happen to anyone. And we have more than that in common, I’m afraid. You have parents in Oregon and you made it clear, you’re going back there eventually. Well, lots sooner than eventually, I’ll have to find work near my sister and nephews, my only family. I’m going to have to go home or move them. I told you, didn’t I? She’s alone—her husband was in the army and was killed several years ago in Afghanistan. I want to be closer than this. I want to be part of their lives, especially since the idea of a family of my own isn’t on my chart anymore. So, just like you, I’m not interested in getting in over my head. As far as I’m concerned, another marriage is out of the question for me. And up until just lately, I wasn’t even ready for friendship with a woman. But then I met you. I think we can be friends. I think we already are.”

She frowned. “Why me?”

He laughed in spite of himself. “Seriously?”

“Why don’t you hang out with Dan? Or some of the guys on Paul’s crews?”

He grinned at her. “Well, let’s see… Their necks are so scratchy,” he said, rubbing his hand over his goatee. “You’re pretty and you make me laugh. I like the way you boss people around. That whole toilet seat mission—that kind of thing used to just annoy the hell out of me.... My sister does that. She’s little, you know? But she has no trouble getting the men in her life to put the seat down.”

She stiffened. “It’s common courtesy when you share space with a woman!”

“That’s what she says. So how about the four-o’clock show in Fortuna, dinner in Arcata after? I say four o’clock because it’s such a damn long drive. Going anyplace around here is a damn long drive.”

“I haven’t been on a date since… I don’t remember.”

“Think of it as a couple of friends catching a movie and a meal,” he said. And then he flashed her the dimple, and she knew what kind of friends he’d like them to be. It made her gulp and shiver in need. “I could lower my standards and make it a chick flick,” he said.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No chick flick.”

His blue eyes grew smoky and dark. “Leslie, you could do a lot better than me, there’s no question about that. I think it’s pure coincidence we have the same post-divorce trust issues. So no expectations, just whatever good times fall our way.”

“Listen,” she said, “I think I know where you’re headed with this idea—this friendship idea....”

“I don’t think you really do, Les. Because anything beyond a movie, dinner and some laughs is entirely up to you. Your call. I swear to God.”

Conner was serious about a day off. He needed to relax and enjoy himself, though he had to admit that hanging around with some of the guys from town filled a certain need. He liked the masculine camaraderie; he liked working on a project with people as opposed to alone.

But while Luke Riordan went into town on Sunday morning to help on the school, Conner helped himself to a rod and reel from the storage shed. When he made it to the river, he found Luke’s helper, Art, already casting. They exchanged their greetings, and Art told him which rocks were the slippery ones.

Conner had been here four weeks and something had happened to the place since April had arrived—it had exploded with new growth and color. The sun was out almost every day, the river, as Jack had promised, was swollen, and the trout were jumping. Wildlife, from deer to wolves to bear, had begun to appear here and there with new young—in meadows, at river’s edge, even in backyards. After a long, dark, snowy winter it was officially spring and the town’s spirits rose with the temperature. It had been a good-natured place since the day he arrived, but now there was an uplifting mood and lots more laughter—spring fever. He’d heard all about their winter of record snowfalls and how the men of the town, including his boss, had had to get together to deliver supplies to those in need, clear the roads, rescue people who’d been snowed in.

That whole business of one for all and all for one that they had going on—that held an appeal for Conner. As a big-city guy, he hadn’t had that in a long while, not since his army days, if you got right down to it.

He caught a fish, a nice, fat trout. He briefly wondered if he’d made enough progress with Leslie to convince her to cook it and decided he’d better move slowly. “Art, you think your boss would like this fish?” he asked.

“Boss?” Art asked.

“Luke?”

Art laughed. “Luke’s my partner. Luke and Shewby are my family. They found me. And kept me.”

Yeah, the danger was not falling in love with a woman, Conner thought. He risked falling in love with the whole damn town.

By the time Conner arrived for Leslie on Sunday afternoon, she had already spent an entire day being tense and unsure of herself—big surprise. She had come to a few conclusions. Such as, life wasn’t going to get a whole lot easier and more enjoyable if she avoided gorgeous men like Conner. And she hadn’t been tempted by a man in a very long time. Very. Long. Time.

She had decided she wasn’t going to try too hard. She wore her hair in the usual way—loose curls. Her makeup was the same as she’d put on for work every day. She did choose an extra nice pair of jeans, boots, crisp white blouse and blazer, however. Nothing special. They were just friends catching a movie.

When she opened the door for him, she found him just plain dreamy-eyed. “God, you look fantastic,” he said almost weakly.

And she burst out laughing.

“This is funny, how?” he asked.

“I don’t look any different. Well, the jacket, that’s a little different. You, on the other hand, are wearing
pants.
Not jeans but pants. Whew. Should I change?”

“Are you a little fidgety?” he asked, smiling at her.

“I haven’t been on a—” She cleared her throat. “I haven’t been a couple of friends catching dinner and a movie in a really long time.”

He stepped into her house, slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her very close and asked, “Did I give you too much to think about, Les?”

She looked up into those vivid blue eyes. She nodded, and she could tell he smiled because the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened a little bit.

“Then maybe we should just get it over with,” he said and came down on her mouth. He moved expertly; his bristles coaxed open her lips. His tongue tangoed with hers briefly; she made a little noise as her hands slid up his arms toward his shoulders. His kiss grew a little more penetrating; he pulled her a bit closer. Without leaving her lips, he whispered, “You taste good. Good.”

“You’re my first mustache,” she whispered back.

He lifted his brooding, thick brows. “Like it?”

She nodded, and he went in for the kill a second time, overpowering her lips, going deep, bending her back over his arm. He gently licked her upper lip, her lower lip, then devoured her once again. That was three, she thought. Three deep, wonderful, wet, hot, amazing kisses.

She was screwed. She wanted him. All of him.

“We should probably think about that movie,” he whispered.

“What movie?” she asked.

And he laughed, releasing her slowly so she wouldn’t collapse. She righted herself, grabbed her purse, left a kitchen light on for later and joined him at the front door.

“It’s harder now, being older and knowing the pitfalls and consequences, isn’t it?” he asked her. He held the front door for her. “I remember being sixteen, going out with a girl in a car for the first time and being pretty strung out, but more excited than scared.” He chuckled. “I should’ve been scared—she ate me alive. She wasn’t happy about too much—she didn’t like the movie, the food wasn’t right, she didn’t want to make out....”

She laughed at him. “Poor Conner.”

He opened the passenger door to the truck and helped her up and in. “I learned to pick ’em better after that.”

“Went straight for the ones who wanted to make out, huh?”

“Well, of course,” he said, slamming the door. He came around and joined her in the cab. “I didn’t pick you solely based on the making out aspect, though I do see the potential, it being your first mustache and all.”

“I never dated much. I had a couple of boyfriends before I met Greg, but nothing too serious. But I bet you always had girls.”

“Not always, just sometimes. I kept pretty long hours at work, it seemed. One short marriage.” He looked over at her. “I am going to tell you more about that, you know. But not tonight. I don’t want to spoil tonight. I want to have fun.”

“I understand completely. It’s been a year and a half for me, too. Not so much as a cup of coffee.” She let go a little laugh. “What a couple of go-getters we are.”

“But this isn’t really our first date,” he said. “More like our third with lots of contact in the middle. We had a couple of coffee dates, I’ve insulted you at least once, we had a flower planting date with a take-out dinner chaser, and this is a dinner and movie date. And we saw each other almost every day for three weeks until you moved the trailer. If we were in high school, that would equal carrying your books to class all week, then meeting you at the burger barn on the weekend with the gang....”

“Then making out,” she added.

He grinned at her. “Absolutely.”

Leslie found the nervousness of her first post-divorce date had gone within ten minutes of getting in the truck with him. Being with him was so easy. He had this gruff exterior and a deep sexy voice, but he had a very soft center. His honesty charmed her to the marrow of her bones. Everything about Conner seemed spontaneous and real as opposed to premeditated. He was what he was, take it or leave it.

The movie was a sci-fi thriller, very tense. When she gripped his arm, he put it around her shoulders and pulled her protectively close. When they went to a nice restaurant in Arcata, she spent the whole meal praising the food and telling him all the things she liked to cook; he told her everything he liked to eat. On the long drive home she talked about how much she’d like to travel more than she had, which was very little, while he talked about how little wanderlust he had. Home was all that mattered to him. If he could stay in the same place forever and always know where a couple of beers and his TV broadcasting pro football games would be, he’d be content.

“I love football,” she said. “But I’d still like to travel.”

“I’ve never really had the time or money for travel, but if I did, I can think of a few things I wouldn’t mind seeing.”

“Like?” she pushed.

He shrugged. “The Super Bowl?”

She laughed. “I don’t know if we have a lot in common or nothing in common.”