My Kind of Christmas. Робин КаррЧитать онлайн книгу.
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,