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Hidden Summit
Robyn Carr


When Connor Danson becomes an unwitting witness to a violent crime, he is forced to leave Sacramento and keep a low profile until the trial is over.He arrives in the tiny mountain town of Virgin River with a chip on his shoulder and an ache in his heart. Leslie Petruso didn’t want to leave her hometown either. But she can’t stand another minute of listening to her ex-husband tell everyone that his new wife and impending fatherhood are the best things that ever happened to him.Virgin River may not be home, but it’s a place where she can be anonymous. Neither Connor nor Leslie is remotely interested in starting a new relationship…until they meet one another. Even they can’t deny they have a lot in common—broken hearts notwithstanding. And in Virgin River, no one can stay hidden away from life and love for very long.…







Sometimes romance is hiding in plain sight…

When Connor Danson becomes an unwitting witness to a violent crime, he is forced to leave Sacramento and keep a low profile until the trial is over. He arrives in the tiny mountain town of Virgin River with a chip on his shoulder and an ache in his heart.

Leslie Petruso didn’t want to leave her hometown either. But she can’t stand another minute of listening to her ex-husband tell everyone that his new wife and impending fatherhood are the best things that ever happened to him. Virgin River may not be home, but it’s a place where she can be anonymous.

Neither Connor nor Leslie is remotely interested in starting a new relationship…until they meet one another. Even they can’t deny they have a lot in common—broken hearts notwithstanding. And in Virgin River, no one can stay hidden away from life and love for very long.…

“Carr pulls out all the emotional stops…in her popular contemporary-romance saga featuring the drama-rich Northern California mountain community.”

—Booklist on Paradise Valley


Praise for New York Times 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




Hidden Summit

Robyn Carr

















www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)


Contents

Chapter One (#u75cdd68b-bb79-536c-89d0-623f67c7dfce)

Chapter Two (#ud0b1f9ee-f1de-5e83-b82b-d1adac344b4f)

Chapter Three (#ub5e7a6c9-2a18-50bb-9191-81937415ea15)

Chapter Four (#u134fb659-9d89-5012-acc6-114542dcbb44)

Chapter Five (#u2e651257-a919-5655-90f0-2a616edc85d9)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)


One

Brie Valenzuela finished her large latte and looked into the empty cup. She’d been waiting in this coffee shop for over an hour, trying to look engrossed in her newspaper, but as the time ticked by, she only grew more concerned. The man she was meeting was a witness to a murder and needed a place to hide out. She’d be hooking him up with a place to stay and a job in Virgin River as a favor to one of her colleagues from the Sacramento District Attorney’s office, and when a witness was late in meeting his contact, there was reason to be concerned.

Brie wanted to make a phone call to Sacramento but didn’t want to alarm anyone. Instead, she asked the barista for another latte.

This witness, now known as Conner Danson, had seen a very well-known, high-profile Sacramento businessman shoot another man. Danson had been taking trash out behind his hardware store when it had happened and had seen everything. He’d called the police and become the sole witness to the crime. Thanks to his prompt report, they’d found evidence of blood in the man’s car, though it had been cleaned, but no weapon. DNA tests had proved the blood belonged to the victim. But, shortly after an arrest had been made, Danson’s hardware store had burned to the ground, and a threat had been left on his home phone voice mail: You stayed out of the heat this time, but you won’t slip by us again.

Clearly the suspect, Regis Mathis, a very distinguished pillar of the community, was “connected.”

Brie had served as an Assistant District Attorney with Max, officially Ray Maxwell, some years ago. Max was now the D.A. He’d suspected some trouble with other witnesses’ anonymity and wasn’t sure whether the leak was in his office or the Federal Marshal’s unit. A cautious man, he’d set up his own program. He wasn’t about to take any chances on losing the only witness to a high-profile murder. Virgin River was an excellent option.

It was another twenty minutes before the door opened and a man entered, but her first thought was that he couldn’t possibly be her witness. First of all, he was too young to own a prosperous hardware store that catered to custom builders—this guy was no more than thirty-five. And he was, for lack of a more refined description, hot. At about six-two, he was built like a warhorse, his muscles popping into prominence beneath the white T-shirt under his opened leather jacket. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, low-slung jeans, long legs. Although he wore a very unhappy expression at the moment, his face was perfectly symmetrical—square jaw, straight nose, thick brows and deep, dark blue eyes. He sported a very handsome, sculptured and tightly trimmed mustache and goatee.

He lifted his chin in her direction. She stood and he walked toward her. She opened her arms. “Give me a hug, Conner. Like we’re old friends. I’m Brie Valenzuela.”

He complied a little reluctantly, nearly swallowing her small frame in his embrace. “Nice to meet you,” he said quietly.

“Sit down. I’ll get you a coffee. What’s your pleasure?”

“Just plain old coffee. Black.”

“Got it.” She went to the counter, ordered, collected the coffee and returned. “So,” she said. “We’re about the same age. We could pass for friends from college.”

“I didn’t really go to college,” he said. “One semester.”

“That works. How old are you?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Aren’t you kind of young to own a successful business?”

“Used to own,” he said, his expression darkening. “It was my father’s. He died a dozen years ago but I was raised in that store. I took over.”

“I see,” she said. “So, we’re friends from college. You’re up here looking for something a little different after the builder you worked for in Colorado Springs shut down—there’s a complete script of your history in this envelope, though I’m sure Max went over all of it with you.”

He gave a nod. “And gave me my new ID. I picked up the truck this morning in Vacaville.”

“I reserved you a small cabin. Very small, but comfortable. It’s going to be temporary, and that’s fine to say to people. And a friend of mine, Paul Haggerty, is a builder. He’ll give you a job—he can keep you on through summer if necessary. It’s his busy building season. That gives you six months, but you won’t need that much time. I hope.”

“Who knows about me?” he asked her.

“My husband, Mike, and I. And you want Mike to know. He’s not just a small-town cop, he’s a very experienced LAPD detective. Otherwise, you’re completely anonymous. Look, I’m sorry you have to go through this, but on behalf of the state, thank you for agreeing to testify.”

“Lady, don’t thank me. I am out of choices,” he said. “And don’t stand anywhere near me in a thunderstorm because I am a magnet for lightning at this point. My life has gone straight to hell in the past year.”

Brie frowned. “Don’t call me lady,” she said. “My name is Brie and I’m helping you. Show some gratitude. You’re not the only person alive to have some bad luck. I’ve had my share. Now, I have a new cell phone for you. Here’s the number. We gave your sister a new cell phone, as well. The area code for both phones is Colorado Springs and the D.A.’s office is picking up the tab. You won’t get reception in the mountains, forests or town of Virgin River, but while you’re out on construction jobs in clear areas or around here, in Fortuna, you’ll have reception. And,” she said, sliding him the large envelope, “directions to the Riordan cabins and to Paul Haggerty’s office. Also, directions to a little bar and grill in Virgin River—good food. Do not get drunk and spill your guts or you’ll probably just be moving again. If you live that long.”

“I don’t get drunk.”

“More’s the mercy,” she muttered. “If you need anything, call me at this number. Do not call the D.A. He’ll contact you through me. This is serious, Conner. You don’t have any options. Whether you agree to testify or not, the man you witnessed committing murder obviously has the means to have you taken out. The authorities have always suspected he’s that kind of man, even though he appears on the surface to be quite upstanding.”

“Understand something,” he said to Brie. “If it weren’t for my sister and nephews, I might just go up against him because A, I’m that kind of man, and B, I’m a little past caring.”

“Katie could be collateral damage, just being related. Remember, when you speak with your sister, no clues about where you are. Don’t discuss the time zone or weather or landmarks, like redwood groves. There’s no point in taking chances. Let’s get through this whole. Hmm?”

He lifted his coffee cup in a silent toast. “Yeah.”

“Get settled into your cabin. Go see Paul and get your job. When you’re comfortable, I’ll have you to dinner. Maybe talking with Mike will settle your nerves a little.”

“If you had any idea what the past year has been like…”

She put her hand over his in what might appear as a gesture of friendship to the casual observer, but her voice was firm. “I’m sure it’s been hell. Can I just remind you that this is a favor for an old friend? I’m sticking my neck out for the D.A. because he’s a good man and I owe him. We have a mission here. You’re a friend from college, so go the extra mile and try to be pleasant. I don’t need my brother and my close friends wondering why the hell I’d find you a place to live and a job because you’re such an ass! So—”

“Brother?” he asked.

“Yes. I was an A.D.A. in Sacramento, but now I’m freelance up here and I have a husband and a little girl. I came up here to hide out while I was getting ready to testify against a rapist. I stayed after the trial.”

He swallowed audibly. “Rapist, huh? Who’d he rape?”

“Me,” she said. “First he beat the conviction—I was the prosecutor. Then he raped and tried to kill me. So, you can assume I understand some of what you’re going through…”

He was quiet for a long moment. He had been the primary support for his sister and nephews for a few years now. He couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel if Katie had gone through something like that. It turned his stomach. Finally he swallowed thickly and asked, “Did you get him?”

“Life sentence, no parole.”

“Good for you.”

“This goatee,” she asked, running her fingers over her own upper lip and chin. “Is it new?”

“A slight change was suggested,” he said.

“I see. Well, I understand you’re going to need some time to adjust. Give me a call if you get antsy, but for right now—try to enjoy the area. It’s incredibly beautiful. A man could do worse.”

“Sure,” he said. “And, I’m sorry you had to go through what you had to go through, you know?”

“It was awful. And behind me now, as this will soon be behind you. You can get a fresh start. Um, Conner? You’re not a bad-looking guy, but this wouldn’t be a good time to hook up, if you get my drift.”

“Not a problem,” he said. “Not looking to hook up.”

“Good. I guess,” she said, standing. “Hug me like an old friend.”

He opened his arms. “Thanks,” he said roughly.



Conner followed the directions to Virgin River. Conner Danson had formerly been Danson Conner, owner of Conner’s Hardware, so the name change had been merely a reversal, which was a little easier to get used to than an entirely new one. Danson was an old family name—some ancient great-grandfather. His parents, sister, nephews and ex-wife had always called him Danny. But at work he had been called Conner or sometimes Con or even Connie by quite a few. It wasn’t difficult to remember to respond to the new name. He was tall, had brown hair, blue eyes, a small scar over his right eye, one slightly crooked tooth and a dimple on his left cheek.

The past five years had been a challenge and the past year, a nightmare.

Conner and his sister, Katie, had inherited their father’s business—Conner’s Custom Carpentry and Hardware. Construction work and running a hardware store was no walk in the park, it was very physical. His muscles had been hard-earned. They’d outsourced custom kitchen and bathroom jobs to builders and sold commercial hardware, cabinetry, fixtures, accessories and lumber used by contractors. Conner had managed it full-time with about ten employees and Katie had done the books, mostly from home so she could take care of her twin boys. Their merchandise had been high-end; the business had done well.

When Conner had been thirty, Katie’s army husband had been killed in action in Afghanistan—she had been twenty-seven, pregnant and ready to give birth. At that point, Conner had had to take over their support. They couldn’t sell the family business—their source of income would have dissipated in no time. And Katie couldn’t contribute enough time to the family business to draw an adequate salary for herself and her sons. So—Conner had worked a little more than full-time, Katie had worked part-time and Conner had picked up the slack so Katie and the boys could live in their own home, independent.

Those days had been long, the work demanding. Many days had ended with Conner feeling as if he’d been married to a store, and while he loved his family, he hadn’t had a life. Still, hard work never bothered him, and he’d remained good-natured and quick-witted. His customers and employees had enjoyed his laugh, his positive attitude. But he had needed something more.

And then he’d found the perfect woman—Samantha. Beautiful, funny and sexy Sam with the long, black hair and hypnotizing smile. And God, going to bed with her had just wound his clock! She was a whiz of an interior decorator who had helped Katie slap her little three bedroom into a showplace in nothing flat. She’d wanted him constantly. Loved sex.

Little had he known.

One year of marriage later and he’d found out she was cheating—and not with a guy, but with every guy she met.

“She’s sick,” Katie had said. “It’s not even like she’s unfaithful, she’s a sex addict.”

“I don’t believe in sex addicts,” Conner had said.

“She needs help,” Katie had said.

“I wish her luck with that,” he had replied.

Of course they divorced. He ended up paying for an expensive treatment program, but escaped alimony. He hadn’t recovered from that before things got worse.

All he’d been doing was taking trash out to the Dumpster in the alley behind the store. A man in a black town car had gotten out, walked around to the passenger side, opened the door and put a bullet in the head of his passenger. Conner had crouched behind the Dumpster while the man, whom he’d unfortunately gotten a very good look at, had pulled out the victim’s body and used Conner’s Dumpster as the coffin. Then he’d calmly gotten back in his fancy car and driven out of the dark alley.

This was the point at which Conner would have done a few things differently, because he had seen the man and the license plate and the dead body. It would have probably been a lot easier all around if he’d pretended he hadn’t seen a thing, but calling the police was an automatic response for him. Unfortunately, Conner’s name had appeared on the warrant—it was how the police had been able to get it signed by a judge. Within a couple of days someone had burned the hardware store to the ground.

The ground.

At that point, even the decision not to testify would have come too late. Mr. Regis Mathis was a very important man in Sacramento. He endowed Catholic charities and supported high-profile politicians. Of course, he’d been investigated a few times by the feds for tax evasion and had a reputation for professional gambling—very successful legal gambling—but he was also a successful developer who sold golf course condo lots. He had never been indicted.

His victim, who had been found with his hands and ankles bound by duct tape, a strip across his mouth as well, had been his opposite—Dickie Randolph had been a low-class thug who’d owned a number of questionable establishments like massage parlors, strip clubs and adult clubs, all with the reputation of illegal drug use, prostitution and sex play. The two men had had nothing in common but there’d been hints of association—silent partner association that would be difficult to impossible to prove.

Immediately following the phone threat, Conner and the D.A., Max, had packed Katie and the boys off to Burlington, Vermont. Max knew of a friend of a friend’s small rental house there and the same friend had hooked them up with a pediatric dentist who’d been looking for an accountant. Katie would be comfortable, independent and far, far away.

As much as Conner had wanted to accommodate his hostess, Brie Valenzuela, it had been hard to be cheery. He’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time—right on his own property—and now he’d lost too much. He missed Katie and the boys. He was going to work construction for a while before he had to testify and then get permanently relocated before Mathis could exact his revenge.

The guy who’d been upbeat in spite of everything was no more.

But as he made his way to the cabins on the river, sunlight broke through the clouds, sending a shaft of gold through the majestic redwoods. The early-March weather was wet and cold, but the beam of sunlight was promising. The green was so dense and bright with the sparkling wet of a recent rain, he was taken aback by the natural beauty of the place. Maybe, he thought… Maybe this isn’t the worst place to be exiled. Time would tell.

He pulled up to the house and cabins—it was a serene little complex, lush and green, a river rushing by. A man came out of the house at the sound of Conner’s truck. By the time he was getting out of the truck, the man had his hand out. “You must be Conner.”

“Yes, sir,” he said.

He laughed. “You start sirring me and I’ll forget I’m civilian now. I’m Luke Riordan. My wife, Shelby, and I take care of these cabins. Number four is unlocked, but the key hangs on a hook by the door. We don’t do meals, but we have a phone you can use if you need to. There’s satellite internet hookup in case you brought a laptop. And there’s a kitchenette and coffeepot, but your best bet for tonight is Jack’s Bar, just ten minutes farther up 36 in Virgin River. The food is amazing and the company isn’t bad.”

“Thanks, I’ll check that out. Are the rest of your cabins full?”

“Nah, hardly anyone right now. We’re between hunting seasons, and the fishing is just starting to pick up. Deer hunting starts in the fall and then there’s water fowl through January. Salmon is great from late summer to December and then slows way down. Summer people start showing up in a couple of months, so from June through January we’re busy. I try to do repairs and upgrades these winter months.”

“Pretty wet around here,” Conner observed.

“The rain will let up in April. If we get a dry day, you’re welcome to use my grill anytime. It’s right in the storage shed. Also in the shed—rods and reels. Help yourself.”

Conner almost smiled. “Full-service lodge.”

“Not even close, my friend. We take care of the linens after you check out, but since you might be here awhile, you’ll have to make use of that little washer and dryer in the cabin. We have a man, Art, who will do some cleaning in there if you feel like a little help. You know—bathroom, floor, shower, that sort of thing. There’s a sign you can hang on the door if you want cleaning. He’s challenged—he has Down syndrome—but he’s smart and very competent. Good guy.”

“Thanks, but I’ve been cleaning for myself for quite a while. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me help you unload a few things,” Luke offered.

“I guess I’ll move in and go have a beer and some dinner.”

“Sounds like a good plan. You gonna be able to find your way back here?”

“I think so. Left turn at the dead sequoia?”

Luke laughed. “That’ll get you home.”

Home. It was a memory. But Conner said, “Thanks.”

Luke helped him move a couple of duffels and boxes into the cabin, shook his hand and went back to his house, his family. Alone once more, Conner unpacked some clothes into the one and only chest of drawers in the room. He plugged in his laptop to recharge it—he and Katie had changed all their accounts, user names and passwords. Although Brie hadn’t said anything, the D.A. had told him they could keep in touch by internet but recommended they not use their names or previously used ID’s, and they should resist the urge to Skype, just on the off chance their internet access was compromised.

What remained of the hardware store had been razed, and all that was left was the lot, but it was in a prime location. Conner had insurance money for rebuilding; it had been put in an investment account under his new identity and would be there for him when this nightmare ended. With his share of the sale of the lot and insurance on the building and stock, he could start over. But not in Sacramento, where he’d spent his entire life except for two years in the army.

He got to that little Virgin River bar just before six and damn near smiled in appreciation. Conner was a custom builder at the heart of things and this establishment was put together real nice. The bar itself was a fine piece of furniture. Someone here favored beeswax as a buffer and shiner, and he could almost smell it. The place was cozy, hospitable and clean as a whistle. He found himself a spot at the end of the bar where he could observe.

“Hey, pardner, what can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“I’ll take a light beer and how about a menu?”

“No problem on the beer, but I’m afraid we don’t have a menu. Our cook fixes up whatever he’s in the mood for. You lucked out there if you like fish—the trout are jumping and Preacher, that’s the cook, has been spending some time out at the river. He has a stuffed trout that will just bring you to your knees.”

“Sounds good to me,” Conner said.

He was immediately served up a beer, and the bartender said, “I’m Jack. This is my place. You passing through?”

“I hope so,” he said, lifting the beer to his lips.

Jack smiled. “Don’t be in such a hurry. This place is about to get real pretty, soon as the rain lets up. And when you see what the melting snowpack does to that river, you’ll just fall in love. No wonder our fish get so big.”

And then Jack was gone, wandering down the bar to take care of other patrons, serving a few plates, picking up a few. The atmosphere was real friendly; everyone seemed acquainted, and there was a small part of Conner that wondered, Can I make a life here? For a while? Imagine checking into a hotel and having the manager offer housekeeping if you were in the mood, no extra charge. Imagine a bar and grill that served up only what the cook felt like.

Jack returned a little later to ask, “How you doing on that beer? Dinner’s ready whenever you are.”

“Sure,” Conner said. “I’m ready. I’m good on the beer.”

While Jack was back getting his dinner, a young woman came into the bar. She pushed down the collar of her jacket and shook out her dark blond hair—lots of loose curls reached her shoulders. She was a little on the thin side but pretty. The thing that got to him, she looked so clean. Or pure, like some Sunday-school teacher or something. Girl-next-door decent. Her complexion was peachy, her eyes dark, her lips full and pink. There was every reason why that sort of thing would appeal to Conner, after his experience with his ex-wife.

But then, Samantha had come across as squeaky clean, too, even classy. There hadn’t been a hint of cheap in her. Appearances meant nothing.

Even so, Conner had been a long time without a woman, and it was wearing on him. All he wanted was to get his life back, take care of his sister and nephews, never be vulnerable to a woman again. He wasn’t the least worried about dying a lonely old man; he, Katie and the boys were very close. Even if Katie found a perfect second husband, he’d always be Uncle Danny.... Well, Uncle Conner now. And that was good enough for him.

Jack put the fish in front of him but quickly headed for the other end of the bar where the Sunday-school teacher waited. Before long a man came into the bar, put an arm around the Sunday-school teacher’s shoulders and gave her a kiss on the temple.

Well, that was that. Temptation eliminated, as far as Conner was concerned.


Two

Leslie Petruso pulled up to the little bar in town, parked and went inside. She immediately felt a little better, a little safer. She liked the look of the place, as though it welcomed her to a simpler life. That’s all she wanted, really—something that was less complicated. She didn’t have to wait long at the bar before a big, good-looking bartender was there, grinning. “What can I get you, miss?”

“How about a glass of Merlot? I’m meeting someone, but I see he’s not here yet.”

She was instantly served the wine. “Anyone I know?” the bartender asked.

“Maybe. Paul Haggerty?”

He smiled. “One of my best friends. We served in Iraq together a long time ago. I’m Jack,” he said, putting out his hand.

“Leslie. How do you do?”

“Paul’s a friend of yours?”

“I hope so,” she said. “He was once my boss in Grants Pass. One of several bosses, I should say. I was the office manager for Haggerty Construction.”

“Pleasure to meet you!” Jack said. “Here for a visit?”

“Actually, if Paul hasn’t changed his mind, I’m here to work as his secretary. Office manager. Whatever he needs.”

“Well now,” Jack said. “’Bout time he did that! His company just keeps growing. He’s got himself a real fine reputation around here.”

“They’re the best, the Haggertys.”

“And speak of the devil,” Jack said, lifting his chin in the direction of the door.

She turned and smiled to see Paul. He was a sight for sore eyes. It had been a long time. His visits to Grants Pass for business had tapered off as his arm of the company in Virgin River grew larger and more demanding. He and his wife and kids still visited his family, but Leslie hadn’t been a part of that side of things.

He dragged off his hat in that boyish way of his and grinned at her. He put an arm around her shoulders, leaned down to give her a kiss on the temple and said, “God, it’s good to see you! How are you?”

And damn it all, her lips began to quiver slightly, and she had to press them together to keep from crying. Her eyes misted over.

“Aw, come on, honey,” he said, squeezing her a little harder. “Jack, how about a beer?”

“You got it,” Jack said, escaping.

“Take it easy now,” Paul said. “We’re going to have a drink, then I’ll take you to the rental to drop off your luggage and car and then I’m taking you home to dinner. Vanni made a roast—an event at our house, you know. I’ll drive you home after—to your new home.”

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble, Paul. I can drive.”

“Getting around these mountains after dark can be dicey when they’re new to you. You can start doing all that without any help from your friends tomorrow. Your furniture arrived, and since there wasn’t that much, Vanni just instructed the movers to unpack the boxes and put things away. There are clean sheets on the bed and clean towels in the bathroom. You can organize it your own way when you feel like it.”

“I wish she hadn’t gone to so much trouble,” Leslie said.

“Don’t worry about it. She’s so grateful you’re here. She’s been handling a lot of my paperwork, what I can’t keep up with, and she’s really too busy for even that right now.”

“She’s grateful? Oh, Paul, I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t stepped up with a job when your dad asked you!”

“I hope you don’t regret it when you see my office. We’re going to have to move a few things around, but right now I’m in a construction trailer.”

“Thank you, Paul,” she said. She took a sip. Then in a tremulous voice she added, “I just had to get out of there.”

He gave her a moment before he asked, “That bad, huh?”

She gave a hollow little laugh and shook her head. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to hold my head high and let it all roll off. I tried pretending I didn’t care, but I’m just not as strong as I’d like to be.”

He put a finger under her chin and smiled into her sad eyes. “Leslie, you don’t give yourself enough credit. First of all, you’re not the one who looks bad—it’s Greg who looks like an idiot and jerk. And second, you’re an amazing woman who has the respect of the company and the whole community.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” she replied. “But our divorce and his remarriage really took its toll. I see them everywhere! Did you know that she’s now pregnant with the baby he told me he didn’t want to have? Have with me, I guess.”

Paul leaned his forehead against hers. “Les, I’m sorry.”

She pulled back and lifted her chin. “I have to find a way to rebuild my self-esteem. I sure couldn’t do it in Grants Pass where Greg seems to think we can remain friends.”

“We’ll work on that. You’ll feel better about yourself in no time. Leslie, this isn’t about your failure. It’s about his.”

“Intellectually I know that,” she said. “But you have to understand, I have a lot more to overcome than you realize. I mean, I wasn’t even asked to the prom.”



Paul had laughed at that comment about the prom, as if she was kidding. She had worked with the Haggerty men for ten years, and they all thought she had a great sense of humor. And she knew they were absolutely on her side. Paul’s dad, Stan, the founder and president of Haggerty Construction, had been determined never to work with Greg again, but his sons had all stood up to him and pointed out that refusing to do business with a successful developer was shortsighted in business. And also some sort of discrimination. “Yeah,” Stan had stormed. “I discriminate against stupid assholes!”

Leslie had adored him for that!

She had been twenty-three when she married Greg Adams. He was a young developer who was becoming successful and well-known, though he was only just thirty. He was in all the fraternal and networking groups from Rotary to the Chamber of Commerce; he’d been president of each at one time or another. He’d had aspirations to run for city council, maybe mayor eventually. He was also incredibly handsome and very sexy, and she had always had a hard time believing he chose her. And even though she’d worked full-time for Haggerty Construction, she’d also joined the Junior League, library volunteers—anything she thought might help Greg’s plans. Of course, Greg had encouraged her to do so.

Then, after eight years of marriage, she’d caught Greg in an affair with a twenty-seven year old attorney. He had been thirty-eight. He’d come clean immediately and confessed he was sorry she had been hurt, but he was moving on. His life had changed in ways he had never anticipated. He’d moved out of their lovely three-bedroom home the day after she’d confronted him, filing for divorce while she was still in shock.

She’d gotten the house and the mortgage, which she couldn’t carry alone. He’d gotten fifty percent of the equity. She’d gotten no alimony because it seemed this successful developer had no money.

“Hah!” Stan Haggerty had roared. “That’s bullshit! He has plenty of money, unless he’s hidden it!”

Apparently he had, because after the divorce and sale of the home and division of the proceeds, he’d managed to buy a very large custom home in a better neighborhood, a new car and take his new lady on a lavish vacation to Aruba. A year after the divorce, he’d had a flashy wedding and invited half the town, including Leslie and her parents. They’d passed, sending regrets. A year and four months after the divorce, the new Mrs. Adams was showing.

Through all of this, Greg had phoned or stopped by regularly; it was very important to him that she know he would always love her and respect her. He wanted them to remember the good years they had together and remain the best of friends. If she hadn’t been so broken down with humiliation, demoralization and envy she might’ve found the strength to gouge his eyes out with a dull spoon.

When he’d broken it to her that Allison was pregnant and that he hoped she would be happy for them, she’d found her bottom. She’d taken all she could take. That’s when she’d gone to Stan and said she was terribly sorry, but she was giving notice.

“Where will you go?” Stan had asked.

“I don’t know,” she had answered. “I just have to get away from here. I know people are on my side, that they think I was wronged, but that doesn’t keep them from looking at me with pity and wondering what role I played in driving my husband away. This is Greg’s town. And admit it, even on my side, they admire Greg for trying so hard to split on good terms. I see Greg and Allison everywhere. He kisses her neck and pats her little belly. I’ll give you a month’s notice, give my apartment manager a month’s notice, and I’ll start looking for a job in another city. Please say you’ll give me a decent recommendation.”

He’d done better than that. He’d asked Paul if he needed someone. “That’ll give you a lot more time to think, to recover, to get on your feet. You might even decide to come back to Grants Pass. And you’ll always have a job with Haggerty Construction. In fact, I don’t know how we’ll make it without you.”



Conner agreed with Jack about the stuffed trout. And while Conner ate, he watched the people in the bar. Jack had a running dialogue with a number of them; they joked around a lot and poked fun at each other like old friends. Jack was obviously all-purpose in his bar—he delivered dinner to a couple of little old ladies, to a family of four, to a couple of guys at the other end of the bar. He picked up empty plates. He served drinks. He leaned over a table and gave a tip on a cribbage move. He helped the same little old ladies out of the bar and down the steps.

All things considered, if he had to be someplace, maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad one. It had a lot of charm. The pace seemed slow and friendly. He was due some of that.

The couple down the bar were kind of intense, Conner decided. Their heads were close together as they talked, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the Sunday-school teacher was close to tears a couple of times. Were they a couple? His hands on her were friendly, affectionate. Maybe they hit a rocky patch or something. Whatever it was, the man was consoling her while they had a drink. After about twenty minutes of that, the man plunked some bills on the bar and, with his hand at the small of her back, escorted her out.

Conner felt that grinding ache of resentment. Because of his ex, because of witnessing a crime and being driven into hiding, he wasn’t going to experience that. He wasn’t going to feel the satisfaction of escorting a pretty Sunday-school teacher out the door and off to some quiet and private place.

His heart was as heavy as it was hungry.

“Anything else for you, buddy?” Jack asked him.

“No, thanks. You were right about the trout—outstanding. Let’s settle up.”

Jack slapped a ticket on the bar, Conner dug out some money and headed out.

Back on the road, Conner passed the turnoff to the cabins and drove down the mountain until he could see service bars on his new cell phone. Finally he saw the potential for a phone call. At the first opportunity, he pulled over and called the number he had already memorized. She answered sleepily. “Aw, Katie, I woke you....”

She laughed. Katie didn’t need an alias—she wasn’t the witness. “We’re not supposed to talk about time zones, weather, landmarks, names or anything.”

“You could be asleep at any time,” he said, though he knew that wasn’t true. She went to bed early. She snuggled in about the same time her little boys did to keep from being too lonely. “That other thing, names, I might have trouble with that.”

“Are you okay?” she asked him.

“I’m good. I’m ready to get this over with, get things back to normal.”

“Things might never be normal again, have you thought about that?”

“What else is there to think about? Things won’t be the way they were, maybe, but they could be normal. We’ll be somewhere new, maybe, but before the boys forget what I look like, we’ll be done with this and rebuilding. Tell me about you, Andy and Mitch. Everyone okay?”

“Names,” she reminded him with a laugh. “Better than I expected. I have a good job with a cute, single dentist. Who knows?” He could hear a smile in her voice. “Maybe things will work out and you’ll join me here.”

“Who knows,” he repeated with a laugh.

“Do you have a job yet?”

“Tomorrow. One is all lined up for me.”

“Will you let me know if you like it?”

“Of course. Yes. Listen, I don’t know how much I can say, but if I don’t answer when you call, it’s because of bad cell reception. I have…” He almost said internet connection and stopped himself. “But I’ll definitely be in touch. One way or another.”

“Okay, just let me know. Anyway, if I need help, you’re not the one I’m going to call. They gave me other, faster options. Please don’t worry. We’re being well taken care of.”

“I won’t worry....”

“Will you do me a favor? Will you try to make friends? You finally don’t have to work sixteen hours a day to keep me and the boys afloat, too, so just try to take advantage of that. Think of this as a vacation.”

“Sure,” he said. He wanted to argue—vacation? I’m hiding from a murderer connected to mobsters and hit men. I’ve been separated from my family and left with nothing but a big question about where we’re going to start over. Great vacation.

“I don’t know exactly where you are, but wherever you are there must be stuff local people do. Check it out. Go out for a couple of beers—you never do that sort of thing. And have a date....”

“Date? I don’t think so....”

“You deserve to grab a little bit of fun, if not downright happiness. I mean, come on—this is temporary.”

“Fun? We’ll see. No happiness,” he said. “The last time I felt happy, I was punished by the entire universe.”

She just laughed. “Have it your way. Be as miserable as possible.”

He sighed. “I’ll try to enjoy this little bit of time, okay? Because when it’s finally over, I’m going to rebuild. Honey, are you and the boys really okay? Happy? They aren’t scared, are they?”

“We miss you. They have a hard time understanding why we can’t be with you. But you know what? They have a nice school, and we haven’t been here long but they’ve already started soccer and had a couple of friends over for pizza and a movie. My boss is easygoing and flexible—I get the feeling I’m extra help and he’s getting me real cheap, maybe not actually paying my salary, if you know what I mean.” She yawned. “We’ll get through this with nobody hurt.”

He’d always been the one to be there for T-ball or swimming lessons or soccer. It killed him to be this unavailable. “You’re always the positive one,” he said. He rubbed the sting out of his eyes. If they got through this, which they would, they would all be entirely new characters in this big drama—new identities, new locations. But they would be together again. “I think I admire you more than anyone I know.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet. And I don’t deserve it.”

But she did. She’d had some real rough breaks, yet she didn’t treat all that as baggage. If she suffered, she suffered and got it over with and resumed her sunny outlook on life.

“Let’s not use up our minutes,” she said. “We’re fine, you’re fine. I want to talk to you again after you have a job…and remember—you promised you’re going to try to find something to enjoy.”

“I will,” he said. “I am.” And he found himself wondering if it was reasonable to hope he could meet a woman who’d settle for a no-strings thing just to take the edge off? And he further wondered how that made him very different from Samantha.



Paul told Leslie that he hadn’t planned to get into the landlord business, but with real estate in a mess and interest rates low, he’d picked up a couple of small foreclosures in town. He planned to sell them when there was a sufficient economic recovery to make money. In the meantime, he rented one of the spruced-up ones to Leslie. It was probably all of a thousand square feet and adorable. And she believed he kept the rent suspiciously low.

“I’ll send someone over in the next couple of weeks to clean up the yard, put down some sod on a couple of bare patches and plant some flowers along the walk,” Paul told her. “When it dries out a little bit, I’m planning to pour a new drive and put up a decent covered carport with some storage. This March rain will give way to sunshine before you know it. And when you see spring here, you’ll have trouble catching your breath, it’s that beautiful.”

The small two bedroom did have an inviting feel on this quiet and welcoming little street. The houses that lined each side were all simple, unpretentious little structures, some in better repair than others, but it had the feel of a neighborhood in need of one more good neighbor, and that was all she asked.

“Let me plant the flowers,” she said. “It’ll help me settle in. I’ve always wanted to keep a little garden, but between work and then apartment living…”

“You do anything you want, Les,” he said. “Treat it like it’s yours.”

“I’ll take you up on the sod and driveway, if you feel like it. That would be nice—a place other than the street to park.”

“Consider it done,” he said.

If Leslie had worried that Paul’s wife would pity her, running away from her job in Grants Pass to escape her humiliating divorce, she would’ve been wasting her time. The reason for her being in Virgin River never even came up over dinner. Rather, Vanni really was grateful that Paul was finally getting some full-time help from someone who had worked for him before and knew the business. And the fact that she was an old friend of the Haggerty family as well, made it even better.

When Leslie settled into bed in her little rented house that night, she felt more relaxed than she had in what seemed like years. And she knew exactly why—it was the distance between her and her past. Tomorrow, when she was out and about town, or when she reported to her new job, when she shopped for groceries or treated herself to a glass of wine at Jack’s, she would not run into Greg or Allison or any of their former friends. She might as well be on another continent.

In the morning when she woke, she went out onto her front porch in her robe, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. The tops of the trees were still lost in the early-morning mist that blanketed the little town, but she could hear voices—neighbors shouting hello, cars just starting up, children laughing and yelling, probably on their way to school or to the bus stop. It was still very early. By the time she was showered and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt over a white collared blouse, the sun was struggling to break through.

Paul had told her not to dress up, that the trailer where he kept his office was pretty rugged. She’d usually worn business attire, either skirts or slacks, to the Haggerty Construction office. In the course of a typical day she’d run into salesmen, customers, decorators, investors and developers. Paul told her the only people she was likely to run into besides himself in that trailer were crew.

She took a cup of coffee along for the ride as she followed his directions. And there it was, the trailer, sitting on a large lot that held two houses in progress. It was actually a single-wide mobile home; she assumed the bedrooms would be offices and that there would be a kitchen and bathroom.

There was one truck parked at the trailer, and it wasn’t Paul’s. She glanced at her watch. Seven forty-five. In the construction world, that was late. Not for the office staff, of course, but the crew usually got started as soon as they had light. Here she’d been trying to impress him by being early, and there didn’t seem to be anyone here to impress.

Inside she found a man seated at what would pass for a kitchen table—a big slab of plywood balanced on sawhorses. He had a cup of coffee and appeared to be leafing through plans, but stood as she entered. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Dan Brady, one of Paul’s foremen. He went to meet a crew at another job and asked me to hang out until you got here. Make yourself at home. His office is down the hall,” he said, pointing. “He must be putting you in the room next to that because there’s a desk in there. It’s old and kind of dirty and you might have to clean it up and maybe put a shim under one leg of it, but it hasn’t been spoken for. Must be yours.” He put out his hand.

She felt herself smile. The whole place was a wreck, messy and mud-tracked. There was a thirty-cup coffeemaker on the kitchen counter, covered with fingerprints. That would explain the tracking of mud. “I’m Leslie Petruso. Let me guess, the guys grab a cup of coffee in here.” And then she took his hand in greeting.

“Especially when it’s cold. When it’s nice out, they’re more likely to take a break sitting on the back of their trucks or something. It looks a little worse than usual, what with the rain. I hope you’re not completely disgusted.”

She laughed. “I’ve been working for a construction company for ten years now, so every now and then I did have to visit a job site. Nice to meet you, Dan.”

He indicated her cup with a jut of his chin. “Can I warm that up for you?”

“Thanks,” she said, handing it to him. “So, did Paul say what he’d like me to do?”

Dan gave the cup back, refreshed. “He said you’d know what to do. He carries his laptop around in the truck with him, but there’s a paper schedule on his desk. I’m waiting for a crew to work on interiors on these two houses and Paul will get here when he gets here. Will you be all right if I get to work?”

“You bet. Don’t worry about me.”

He smiled at her. “Welcome aboard, Leslie. We’ll all be happy if Paul has a little help organizing the paperwork.”

“Gets a little behind on that, does he?” she asked on a laugh.

“He’s a builder,” Dan said with a grin. “It’s hard to keep him in the office. I’ll be in the house on the left, if you need me.”

“Not to worry. I’m going to poke around Paul’s desk and see if I can make sense of anything.”

“Go for it,” Dan said with a salute.

Leslie took her time looking around after Dan left. She didn’t concentrate on Paul’s desk or even on his office—there was plenty of time for that. She opened every cupboard and closet in the trailer before she attempted Paul’s desk. And it happened spontaneously—she wiped out the sink, which led to scrubbing the countertop, which led to first sweeping, then mopping the kitchen floor. She filled the sink with soapy water, and, with rag or mop in hand, she moved through the place with a vengeance.

By the time Paul showed up at around ten, the muddy tracks and finger smears had disappeared. Even the stainless-steel thirty-cup coffeemaker was shining. And the coffee in it was fresh. “Whoa,” he said.

She straightened her spine and blew a curl of hair off her forehead. “Prepare your crews for intensive training—they’re going to learn to keep things clean around here.”

“Oh, they know how,” he said. “When we turn over a house, you could eat off the floor....”

“Yeah? Really?” she asked. “Because if you ate off that bathroom floor, you’d be dead in ten seconds. I’m not cleaning it. It’s vile. The next man who comes in here with a need for it is getting the job. And then they’re going to keep it clean because I can’t even think about putting my—” she cleared her throat in lieu of a key word and added “—on it.”

The door opened and a man looked in with blue eyes that almost knocked her out. “Oh. Excuse me. I should’ve knocked....”

Paul laughed and kind of rocked back on his heels. “Not a problem, come on in. The new secretary was instructing me in keeping a clean shop.”

“New?” he asked.

Paul didn’t respond to the question but stuck out a hand. “Paul Haggerty. How can I help you?”

“Conner Danson,” he said, accepting the handshake. “A friend of mine said you might have some work....”

“Would that be Brie?” he asked.

“That’s her. Old friend of mine. My last boss shut down....”

“She said something about that. And you’re friends from college?”

Conner smiled. “I took a few classes after high school, but I’m not a college man. I quit, joined the army for a couple of years, then apprenticed with a carpenter. Custom kitchens and bathrooms.”

Paul gestured to an album Conner held under one arm. “I bet you have some sample photos I can look at.”

“You bet,” he said, handing over the album.

Paul opened it and began leafing through the photos, Leslie looking over his shoulder. She kept glancing up at Conner—short brown hair, tanned face, thick eyelashes, goatee…very handsome. She’d like another look at his eyes; the blue was almost shocking.

“Wow,” she said of the pictures. “Very nice work. And you say your boss shut down?”

“Not a great time for custom builders right now.”

“This work is so pretty,” she said. “Did you give any thought to going out on your own?”

“Lots of carpenters and refinishers out of work right now,” he said with a shrug. “I contacted everyone I knew and Brie said…” He didn’t finish but let it hang in the air.

“I have one good interiors man, my foreman. He’s a good leader and can usually handpick crew to work with him, but I bet he’d be happy to have some talent like this to partner up with.” Paul closed the album and handed it back. “I have enough contracts for custom buildings and remodels to employ you for as long as six months, but I can’t guarantee any more than that.”

“I’ll start with that,” Conner said.

“Thing is, this is the kind of stuff I like to do,” Paul said. “But if I spend too much time on the detail work the big picture gets shortchanged.”

“I’d be happy to watch your details,” Conner said. “Besides, I don’t know if I’ll take to this place for the long-term. I’m a city boy. More or less.”

“From?”

Conner answered according to his new bio. “Colorado Springs. If you don’t mind me asking, how is it you have enough work to take on one more hire in a little place like this?”

“A combination of things,” Paul said. “This place was a little light on general contractors when I first got here—not a lot of competition. And, because of the kind of place it is, beautiful and with a distinct shortage of industry, the only people who move here come because they can. Take my father-in-law, retired general—he found this place because it was perfect for hunting and keeping his horses. His lady friend is a semiretired actress—also loves hunting and has dogs and horses. Then there’s Jack of Jack’s Bar—not so rich and important, but a hardworking man, a retired marine who saved a couple of bucks and wanted to build his wife a nice house to raise their family.... You get the idea. People are here on purpose. And they tend to build or remodel the homes they’ll have forever, homes they’ll leave their children.... I love making homes for generations. My dad taught me that.”

“And you’re here because…?” Conner asked.

“That’s easy. My wife. Before she was my wife she was my best friend’s wife, and I gave my word if anything happened to him in Iraq I’d take care of her and their baby. The worst happened and I kept my word, but it was no sacrifice. I’ve always loved Vanni. She’s expecting our third now. We just found out.”

“Wow, congratulations,” Conner said, dropping his gaze to the floor. He couldn’t make eye contact with either of them. What he’d seen in the bar the night before sure didn’t pay a tribute to the wife Paul had “always loved.” He suspected his new boss was fooling around with the secretary. He’d seen them together at the bar.

“Now, I’m gonna need some information. Or—make that Leslie here is going to need some information so we can set up some benefits, take care of your payroll, the basics. And while you fill out her forms, I’m going to clean the bathroom.”

“I really didn’t mean you had to do it,” Leslie said rather sheepishly.

“Hey, the buck stops here,” Paul said. “I should’ve made sure it was kept clean. Vanni wouldn’t even come out here—she made me take the paperwork home. I’ll clean it and I’ll make sure it stays clean.” He grinned and put an arm around her shoulders. “The employment applications and forms are in the lower left drawer.”

“I’ll take care of it,” she said. And she smiled warmly at Paul, then Conner. And when she caught Conner’s eyes with hers, there was a zing. A spark.


Three

After filling out some paperwork, Conner walked across a muddy lot to a house that was nearly finished and introduced himself to Dan Brady.

“Oh, hey,” Dan said, stretching out a hand. “Paul mentioned something about a cabinet guy heading our way!”

“I hope that’s me,” he said, thinking, I used to be Dan, Uncle Danny. But he was Conner now—a change that would probably be permanent. “I’m supposed to work with you. What are we doing here?”

Dan spread out his plans on a piece of wood set atop the base for a kitchen island. “Granite countertops, walnut cabinets with glass insets, matching bathroom counters with granite carved sinks and identical cabinets—no glass insets in the bathroom.”

Conner gave a nod. “This is pretty high-end for me. I’ve done it, but it’s been a while. I hope you don’t mind if I ask for advice here and there?”

“I’ll mind if you don’t. I’d rather help you do it right for the homeowner than have to go back and redo. Let’s get it right the first time. Any questions, spit ’em out.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“I appreciate it more,” Dan said. “We’re on time and on budget because we build smart.”

“I’ll try to keep up with you,” Conner said.

Conner hadn’t been on a building crew in a long time, but he’d been involved in building in every other way. He’d built all his own displays, given classes to homeowners who’d been attempting their own renovations, instructed carpenters who’d been after something new and upscale. But of course the business of retailing had been too consuming to allow extra time for building, except for the things he’d built for his nephews—their backyard play set, shelves, cabinets, race car bed frames.

How he missed them! But having his hands on the wood was reassuring and felt good. Measuring, cutting, planing, nailing, sanding…it was therapeutic. While he couldn’t really let his mind wander too much if he was going to do a good job, it was easy to take a little think time while he worked with his hands. This had always been his magic bullet—carpentry. Every so often he’d glance over at Dan to check his progress and mastery. The man’s artistry shone through in no time.

“How long you been doing this, bud?” Conner asked.

“Oh, forever. My dad was a builder. We built the house we lived in, one room at a time. Really tough father, but outstanding builder. He was my first boss.”

“I lost my dad twelve years ago,” Conner found himself saying. And then he thought about how easy it was to just talk about himself, his authentic self. He wondered if he’d always been that way without realizing it. But of course he had—he’d never had anything to hide before. Would a clever person be able to piece together a million details and discover him? But still he added, “He was tough, too. Good but tough. How long have you worked for Haggerty?”

“Few years,” Dan said. “He’s solid. Good man.” Dan stood tall and said, “But don’t get the idea that just because he’s nice, he’s soft or easy. With him you earn your pay. And if you don’t, you’re gone fast. I repeat, fast.”

Conner straightened. “You warning me for a reason?”

“Not that I can see, but a friendly word here and there never hurts. What brings you to the mountains?”

Conner gave him the standard line. Maybe it would even begin to feel natural.

“Brie? You knew Brie?”

“We were lots younger....”

“Did you know her brother, Jack?” Dan asked.

“We just had a couple of classes together. When I found myself out of work, I got in touch with everyone I’d ever met. I didn’t know anyone else in her family.”

Dan grinned. “You’ll like Jack. But never let him know it. In fact, the best way to get on his good side is to give him a little shit. Accuse him of something. Say he’s overcharging you.” Then Dan chuckled and got back to work.

“Jack who owns the little bar in town?” Conner asked.

“The same,” Dan said. Later, when they were done for the day, Dan said, “Hey, my fiancée’s out for the evening, and I’ll be having dinner at Jack’s. I’ll stand you a beer if you’re not busy.”

He used to be busy all the time, so busy there was no time for that occasional beer with friends unless he grabbed one out of Katie’s fridge while he visited with her. Back when he had a wife, he’d struggled to get out of the store and home to her, but that seemed so long ago. And he’d often returned to the store for a few hours after dinner, a thing that plagued him now. Had he not given enough in that relationship? Left his wife wanting, left her believing she was some kind of addict? And after Samantha was gone, there was work and Katie and the boys. He couldn’t remember when he’d last had pals.

“I could spare some time,” he said to Dan. “I was planning to get dinner there myself.”

“Good, then. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”



Back in that little bar there were now at least twenty people, all of whom seemed to know each other. Conner was a little uncomfortable about that.

Jack lifted his hand and yelled, “Hey,” as Dan and Conner entered and took seats at the bar. Jack lost no time in making introductions. Whenever someone came to the bar to order a beer, he said, “This here is Conner, new to these mountains, working for Paul now.” Conner met the cook and his wife, a young man named Denny who helped out behind the bar, Denny’s girl, Becca, who would soon be the elementary-school teacher, “Once there is an elementary school,” Jack said. “We’re working on that part.” He met Jack’s wife, Mel, the local minister and the local doctor. Pretty soon Paul Haggerty wandered in. He was grinning when he asked Dan, “How’d this guy work out for you?”

“He did great,” Dan said. “Tough loss for Colorado Springs.”

“Colorado Springs?” Jack’s wife piped up. It felt like she shouted it across the bar. She left her children sitting at a table with their dinner and walked toward Conner. “My sister lives there! What part of Colorado Springs?”

He struggled for a second, then made something up. “Are you familiar with Breckenridge Park?”

“No,” she said. “My sister is on the northeast side of the city.”

“Breckenridge is southwest,” he said. “Kind of lonely out there… Not a lot of development…”

“But it’s so beautiful there. I almost moved there,” she said.

“But she married me,” Jack put in from behind the bar.

“But I married him,” Mel said with a smile. “And not only is Jack one of the best things that ever happened to me, so is this town. I hope you like it here.”

“Don’t push him, Mel,” Jack said. “He’s only been here a couple of days and it’s been kinda muddy.”

“I came here in March myself,” Mel said. “I wasn’t impressed. I slid off a road and had to be towed out, then the porch collapsed on the cabin where I was staying, I was soaked to the bone and this lughead kept saying, �Be patient—it’s so beautiful here.’” Her blue eyes twinkled. She put a hand on Conner’s arm. “Really, it is. Maybe not today, but we do have amazing days…and nights....”

“The thing that got to Mel,” Jack said to Conner, “she’d been in L.A. for ten years and when she came here, she’d never seen so many stars. Just look up on a clear night. We get used to it, even take it for granted, but it’s spectacular. But then…I bet Colorado Springs and the surrounding area gives you some wonderful views and skies.”

It brought to Conner’s mind the area east of Sacramento, in the Sierras, where the air was clean and the vistas breathtaking. He’d managed to get his nephews up on skis already. “Sure,” he said, fighting homesickness. He wanted his family back, his store, all the customers who had become friends. “It’s a good place, Colorado Springs,” he said. “I wouldn’t have left if there’d been work....”

Paul Haggerty hung out for a while, and he was as bad as Jack, introducing Conner to everyone who happened along. It wasn’t long before Mike Valenzuela stopped by and introduced himself, expressing his pleasure in meeting one of Brie’s old friends from college.

“Old friend from college?” Jack said in a booming voice. “You didn’t mention you knew my sister!”

“I had one whole semester of college,” Conner said. “We had two classes together, that’s it. When the company I worked for folded, I got in touch with everyone I knew, though Brie was a real long shot. She said she thought there was work here for someone like me. But it’s not like we’ve been in touch the last seventeen years....”

“Not even Christmas cards,” a female voice said from behind him. He turned to see Brie with a toddler on her hip. She let her down, and the little girl instantly ran to the table where Mel’s kids were having dinner. “But I’ll never forget Conner. He asked me out three times.”

“She said no three times,” he added.

Mike draped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “I don’t blame you, man,” Mike said. “I hope you’re over her. I’m possessive.”

“I can see that,” Conner said. “No worries.”

“No kidding. A friend from college,” Jack said.

“I had a lot of friends, Jack. And you were pretty far away at that time,” Brie reminded him. “In fact, so was Mike. I met my husband when he came to Sacramento to see Jack. They were both still in the Marine Corps. But Mike and I didn’t get together until much later.”

There were a few more introductions. He had a good dinner of red beans with kielbasa and rice and a second beer. And when it was almost time to escape, he saw his chance to sneak a word with Brie.

“Hey,” he said a bit nervously and very quietly. “I think I just met the whole town.”

“Not even close,” she answered. “These are mostly the regulars and good friends.”

“It doesn’t feel that anonymous....”

“It is and it isn’t. The town is pretty anonymous as long as you don’t reach out using your real identity. See, these folks are used to meeting people like you—folks who come for a vacation or for work or to visit friends and family. And they’re not the kind of people who get on Facebook or Twitter. Just stick to your story and relax. You’re here for a job, you’re passing through, and since you won’t be putting down roots…”

“No one will email or call their cousin who lives next door to the man I’m testifying against?” he asked in a low voice.

She shook her head. “The D.A.’s detectives did an extensive background on the defendant. There’s always a chance of something burrowed under the surface, but the other great thing about this little town—strangers stand out like a sore thumb. Just like you can’t slip in and out of here without being noticed, neither can anyone else, like anyone who might be looking for you. We’re buried in the mountains, Conner. That’s why Max picked it for you.”

“Makes me a little nervous. I want to get to the trial so I can end this....”

“I know,” she said. “Believe me, I know.”

And then she came in—Leslie. It was as if the door opened and let spring inside—she was that pretty, that fresh. He wished it could be otherwise because this was going to be problematic, but he felt the instant attraction. Like a swelling in the chest, a lift in the heart, a beam in the eyes. If he were a single guy without complications and if she weren’t involved somewhere else, she would have been exactly the kind of woman he’d want to sit down and get to know.

“Well, it’s been a long day,” he said to Brie. “See you around.”



Conner knew he was as welcome as anyone in that construction trailer for a cup of coffee or maybe a little conversation, but he resisted. He packed a lunch and filled his own thermos of coffee back at his little cabin. The bathrooms were functional in the houses he was working on with Dan, and the weather was warming up and drying out.

It was Leslie he avoided for the first two weeks he worked for Paul Haggerty. Every time he saw her he found her even prettier than the day before. Her dark eyes, so unusual on her fair face with light hair, twinkled when she smiled, and her laugh was as sweet as a melody. When he was around her, though seldom, he enjoyed her bright mood. Yet he had a dark streak of disapproval—the “Sunday-school teacher” was messing with a married man. Not something that gave him a warm flush of desire for her. But he couldn’t deny it—he was attracted.

Still, there were things he couldn’t help but like about her. Her sense of humor, for one thing. She made all the guys laugh, even when she was barking orders at them. Even Conner, who hadn’t been a real happy-go-lucky kind of guy lately, found himself smiling. Despite her feminine appearance, she ran a tight ship. She insisted people wipe their feet, clean their coffee mugs, and although she was one woman among many men, God help the one who left the toilet seat up!

After a couple of weeks he was starting to feel the strain of his solitary life. Trying to go low-profile caused him to act aloof and unconnected. Sometimes he went to Jack’s for a beer and dinner after work, but more often he drove down the mountain to Fortuna. He’d get groceries and something easy from a deli for dinner in his cabin. Occasionally he’d try a different restaurant or stop at a diner or coffee shop. And he’d always sit in his truck in the parking lot where his cell reception was good and have a conversation with Katie before she and the boys went to bed. He had to call them early—Katie was on eastern time.

That always sent a pang of sadness through him, that she liked to sleep to avoid long, lonely evenings. His beautiful sister should be among friends, should have a boyfriend. That he was lonely didn’t really matter. He couldn’t stand to think of Katie that way.

After talking to Katie on Saturday afternoon, he decided on a cup of coffee and a slice of pie. There was Starbucks, but he liked that place where he’d met Brie—a gaudy, girlie, turquoise place filled with fragile-looking furniture he was afraid to sit on. He always chose to sit up at the counter on a sturdy stool. Once there, he ordered his coffee and pie.

And she came in. Leslie. She didn’t notice him. She was wearing some kind of leotard thing under her coat, and her hair looked kind of all over the place. And she did what she did best, laughed with the man behind the coffee bar who served her. They laughed as if they were best friends. Then she took her tall iced tea and her small muffin and went over to one of those delicate-looking miniature couches and settled in to check the messages on her cell phone. She must do as so many mountain residents did—check messages and return calls when and where there was reception.

Conner raised one finger as he would in a bar, and the guy came over. “Can I have that coffee and pie to go?” he said.

“Sure,” the young blond guy said. “Everything all right?”

“Perfect. I’ve got a roasted chicken in the truck and I’m going to take it home and nuke it for dinner, then chase it with the key lime.” He tried out a smile.

“Sounds lovely.” And the man turned to get a paper cup and plastic carton of key lime pie.

“Conner?”

Damn. She was standing right beside him. He looked into her eyes, caught that delicious smile and thought, Crap. It zinged him. Gave him a little shock of awareness in all his male parts. “Hi,” he said.

“What a surprise. I never expected to run into someone from Virgin River here. There’s a yoga studio around the corner. I love yoga. I come at least twice a week.”

So that explained the leotard. “I don’t know anything about yoga,” he admitted.

She laughed, genuinely amused. “I’d be kind of surprised if you did. Grab your coffee and join me.”

“I probably better not.”

“Oh?” she asked. “You have plans?”

He was struck speechless. How did you answer that? There’d been a time Conner, as Danny, had been pretty smooth with women. He’d known how to charm them or how to at least get a phone number, but it had been a long time since he’d had a woman other than his sister in his life. This lying about everything wasn’t easy for him—he was used to shooting straight from the hip. With Leslie it was even more complicated—he found her attractive, and she was doing the boss. “I just don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

“In the middle…?” She frowned. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“You know,” he said, giving a shrug. “Your…relationship.”

“What relationship? I’m single.”

His brow furrowed. “Right,” he said.

She continued to frown; her eyes had narrowed. “What relationship?” she demanded.

“Well…I… Looked like maybe you and the boss…” That was as much as he got out. “It’s none of my business.” And he thought, I’ll be dead in a month, as terrible as I am at lying, at covering up.

She was still frowning. The blond guy behind the coffee bar put Conner’s coffee and pie on the counter. “Grab your coffee and come with me,” she said. And allowing for no discussion or refusal, she turned and walked away, expecting him to follow.

“Crap,” he muttered. Then he let out a breath and did as she said. She sat down on a little bitty couch with spindly legs, and opposite was a chair with equally skinny, curvy legs. He looked down at her, pie in one hand and coffee in the other. “I don’t know, Leslie. I don’t think I should sit on that.”

“It’s stronger than it looks. Sit,” she commanded. And he did so. “Paul is an old friend,” she said. “I worked for his family in Oregon for ten years. I was trying to relocate but didn’t have a new job, and he offered me one here. There is nothing the least bit inappropriate between us.”

“Okay. Like I said, none of my business anyway,” he said, standing to escape.

“Sit.”

He did as she told him.

“Why would you assume something like that about me?”

“I…” He made a face. “The first night I was in town, I was at that little bar and you and Paul… Well, I didn’t know who either of you were, but he had his arm around you. Kissed you. It looked like maybe you were crying or something. You had a drink and left together. Like a couple.”

She was quiet for a moment, her lips pursed. “What nerve,” she said.

“Hey, you don’t owe me an explanation. It’s nothing to me.”

“Listen to me. Carefully. I was married while I worked for Haggerty Construction in Grants Pass. My husband and I divorced and he moved on very quickly. Actually, he moved on before we were divorced. He remarried right away, got his new wife pregnant. He’s going to be a father. And me? Why of course I get to be friends with the charming couple. He would probably even like me to be the baby’s godmother. I would have gone to hell to get out of there. This job was a lifesaver. Paul was a lifesaver. I might’ve been emotional about that.”

Conner was quiet for a long moment, and then, inexplicably, he smiled. “Seriously?”

“Which part?” she asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“He wanted you to be friends with his new wife?”

“Yes. And be so happy for them.”

“Wow,” he said, still smiling. “What balls.”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Well. He was so fucking civil even my parents thought I should just get over it. Sorry—I don’t usually use that word.”

“Sounds kind of apropos where the ex is concerned.”

“You have no idea. I couldn’t get away from them in that town. Paul was very sweet to help me out. I can’t remember crying or getting kissed in Jack’s Bar, but—”

“It looked kind of…cozy. Like maybe he was the boyfriend and the two of you were having some kind of…misunderstanding. And you have such a close— I guess I don’t have much of an imagination, I could only think of one possibility.”

“It’s a very rude and unflattering assumption to make about a woman. The last thing I would ever do is get involved with a married man.”

“Hey, I apologize. I’m really sorry about what you’re going through, but it makes a lot more sense that I’d think you were a couple than that the boss is comforting you because your ex…” He chuckled and rubbed a hand over his goatee. “Wants to be friends, does he? Wow. And I take it you don’t feel like being friends?”

She glared at him. Her eyes were mere slits. “I feel like killing him, but the hell of it is, I’d probably grieve him. And pay for his funeral. I used to love him. And now I completely hate him, but not enough.”

“Shew,” Conner said. “I get that.”

“You do?”

“I’m divorced. I didn’t like it too much, either,” he said. “And we’re never going to be friends.” And Leslie’s anger at the very idea that she would mess with a married man—this was going to make fighting the attraction a lot tougher.

“I’m thirty-two,” she said. “People tell me how young I am, but I’ve had a little trouble with passing thirty, ending an eight-year marriage, feeling like I’m starting my life over at this age. I didn’t mind starting my life at twenty-two, but at thirty-two? Not so happy about it. And I highly resent the circumstances. To be frank, I’m not real happy that you pegged me as a cheater. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to jump to conclusions?”

“Didn’t I apologize?” he asked. “I might be a little cynical. I’m thirty-five and I’m not real happy about starting over, either. Job gone, divorced, relocated, et cetera.”

“With how many of the guys at work did you share your speculation about Paul and me?” she asked.

“No one. I don’t gossip,” he said, his heavy brows drawing together in a frown. “Look, I don’t blame you for being offended, but could you lighten up? I didn’t mean to—”

They both turned to look as someone cleared his throat. The blond barista behind the counter was glaring at them. “I like to close by six,” he said. “Do you suppose you could take the argument to Starbucks?”

As Leslie and Conner left the coffee shop, he asked, “All right, are we straight now? You accept my apology?”

“Probably. But I admit, it bothers me. It makes me wonder how many other people assume there’s more to my relationship with Paul Haggerty than a very long-term, very proper friendship.”

“Listen, I’m a little cynical,” Conner said. “Sometimes it’s not easy.”

“Get over it,” she said, opening her car door.

“I’ll work on that. And I’ll be behind you on the way back up the mountain. Not too close, but close enough to make sure you get back to town all right.”

“I don’t need an escort,” she said.

“I’m sure you’re extremely capable, but I happen to live there.” And he closed her door after she was seated. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Hardheaded enough?”



Leslie drove back to Virgin River with Conner’s lights behind her at a respectable distance.

For Leslie, it had been over eighteen months since she’d even entertained the notion of a man in her life. She’d been grieving and damning Greg Adams, the happy-go-lucky ex, all that time. She’d been void of desire. In fact she had made up her mind that it would be a very long time before she’d let a man get close, if ever, because only a fool wouldn’t be afraid to trust a man again. It would risk a broken heart. The very idea that someone thought she’d settle for a married man bit deep.

The kind of guy in her very distant future had not resembled Paul Haggerty in any way; Paul was more like a brother to her. Now Conner Danson… That was another story. If he wasn’t such an ass, he would be irresistible.

This surprised her. Conner was nothing like the kind of man who had attracted her before. He was nothing like Greg, which should have probably recommended him, except for that ass thing. There was also the fact that Leslie was determined to paste her confidence back together without the assistance of a man.

Greg had been, still was, movie-star pretty with dark hair, beautiful hazel eyes flecked with gold, a trim build with strong shoulders and arms and a smile that made girls tremble. He was fussy about what he wore and drove, and his two primary goals in life were to be rich and prominent. Leslie suspected his new lawyer wife had tipped him on how to rat-hole some money because he still looked pretty well-off despite escaping alimony, and while they’d been married, he’d always brought home enough money to afford all the things he wanted.

During their eight-year marriage, she’d gotten used to women flirting with him, yet she’d never doubted his fidelity, never. Greg had been amused by flirtation; clearly he enjoyed it, but it never seemed as though he’d act on it. A very attractive waitress once wrote her phone number on the check, even though they were dining together. He had looked at it, laughed, crumpled it and said, “As if.”

Conner was a whole different kind of guy. Pretty hardly described him—Conner was taller, broader, stronger. He didn’t have those classic good looks but rather willful brown hair that he kept short, a square jaw, crystal-blue eyes that peered suspiciously from behind thick lashes. He had a cute dimple in his left cheek and a nice smile, though not a frequent one, and he could effect a powerful scowl. The mustache and goatee gave him a mysterious air; he stroked it as if he wasn’t quite used to it. He was much more rugged than Greg, but then he was a construction worker and he looked like one—jeans and steel-toed boots and a ton of testosterone. She’d seen him wearing the tool belt and even though she’d been around a million tool belts, he’d worn his especially well. He looked, frankly, as if he could tear the door off a car if he needed to.

Leslie had worked around construction workers for the past ten years, and, while they came in all shapes and sizes, there was something about Conner that gave her shivers. She couldn’t put her finger on it. It might be the way he couldn’t seem to lie or cover up; what passed through his brain shot out of his mouth. He thought she was doing the boss and couldn’t just act as if he didn’t notice? She’d been watching him around the job; she couldn’t help it. He would be almost somber until something amused him, and then his face lit up—same reaction, his feelings kind of bubbled to the surface. He couldn’t seem to hide his stunned amusement that a guy would divorce, remarry, knock up his new wife and expect the ex-wife to be okay with it all. What balls. Very straightforward. Uncomplicated. Yes, that was it—he seemed uncomplicated. After Greg, that was so inviting.

Oh, man, the last thing she needed was to get attracted to some construction worker who was temporary at best.

Then her eyes widened. Maybe the best thing in the world would be a temporary construction worker. No expectations. No disappointments. No one to get in the way of her mission to rebuild her confidence and self-esteem.



Conner followed Leslie at a distance so as not to blind her with the headlights of his truck in her rearview mirror. And he thought—boy, was she pissed. That was probably a good thing because he should really get over it, the attraction. He’d been warned by Brie, no relationships during this hiatus.

But the more sense he talked into himself, the more he wanted to get closer to that tough, hardheaded broad. The more he wanted her, in every physical way. Stupid idea. His life was just too complicated.


Four

Despite his caution, Conner caught a few minutes with Leslie every day that next week. And she grew more agreeable around him until finally she smiled at him and that caution melted like butter in the hot sun. He was back in her good graces.

With that awareness, he agreed quickly when, at the end of the week, Dan said, “Come on, let’s head for the office. Les made cookies. Bring your lunch.”

“Sounds good,” he said.

When they got inside, Dan put his plastic lunch bucket on the table and immediately headed down the hall to the office Leslie used. She followed him back out to the kitchen.

“Hi, Conner,” she said.

“Leslie,” he said with a nod.

She pulled a canvas tote out of the refrigerator and began to empty the contents onto the table—a half sandwich, an apple, a yogurt, a container of green tea. “How’s it going over there?” she asked, tilting her head in the direction of the two houses they’d been working on.

“We’re finishing up bathrooms this week,” Dan said. “We might take a couple of days next week, but that shouldn’t hold up work on the exterior. Paul mentioned a remodel in Redway that he wants to tackle next. What did he say to you?” Dan asked.

“He said we’re moving the trailer pretty soon. He’s got a sixty-five-hundred-square-foot custom home northeast of Virgin River ready to pour.”

Conner knew what that meant. It would be a long time before he’d be working on the interior of that custom job. Probably months. He might even be back in Sacramento to testify before it came time to do the custom house on the same property as the trailer. He wouldn’t be running into Leslie unless he drove to wherever that trailer was located to pick up his check. Even that wasn’t necessary. Paul would readily bring paychecks to Jack’s.

“Things have really improved since you’ve been here, Les,” Dan said, nodding at the big plate of cookies covered with Saran on the plywood table.

“I know,” she agreed. “Cookies and moderate cleanliness.”

“And paperwork on time, like estimates and contracts. I’m so damn glad Paul finally got around to hiring full-time office help.”

“It’s nice to work with Paul again. Even for a little while.”

“A little while?” Dan asked.

She ripped open her yogurt. “I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m leaving tomorrow. It’s just that my parents are in their late sixties and one of these days… Maybe I should say one of these years they’re going to need me. Right now they’re in great health, never slow down for a second, and Grants Pass isn’t very far away so we can visit each other frequently. But they’re sixty-eight, I’m their only child, I assume I’ll have to return to Oregon.”

“What’s your best guess?” Conner blurted out. “Months or years?”

“I promised Paul six months, maybe more,” she said. “Unless there’s an emergency back home, of course. And…excepting emergencies…I’m not going to leave him high and dry. Vanessa would kill me.”

Conner flashed his dimple in a smile, but he looked down at his sandwich. That gave him something to work with. Yes, sir.

Six months. He was a patient man. Most of the time.

“Didn’t I hear you’re planning a wedding?” she asked Dan.

“Not exactly. What we’re planning is a marriage. Cheryl and I have been together a couple of years, this past year dedicated to finishing our house together with a little help from friends. We’re in now, though still finishing things, and should be done by June. Then Cheryl wants a nice, quiet, private ceremony while we’re on our way up to the San Juan Islands for some serious fishing.” He laughed. “Gotta love a woman like Cheryl. She’s not only pretty and practical, she’s more fun than I deserve.”

“What about your families?” Leslie asked. “Won’t they want some kind of wedding?”

“That’s just it—our families are gone now and it’s just us. I think our friends will help us celebrate the new house with a housewarming, but we want to go off alone for the rest.”

Families gone…that turned over in Conner’s head a bit. His family was gone temporarily, but he’d get them back. At least until Katie met someone who would take over as husband and the boys’ father, and then it would be time for her to make a new life. And while they were very close, it wasn’t as though Conner told her everything that was happening in his life. Back in the day, if he dated, he didn’t run the details by his sister. He was more likely to mention it after the fact. Even with his wife, Katie hadn’t met Samantha until they were talking about marriage.

But somehow the idea that he might never tell Katie about Leslie ate at him. Bothered him. Leslie was the kind of girl you showed off to your family.

“You’re very quiet,” Leslie pointed out to him.

He chewed and swallowed. “Good cookies,” he said. Then he gave enough of a smile to cover his discomfort. When he looked at her, his cheeks felt warm. He hoped he wasn’t blushing like a boy.

He went back to work with Dan and conversation focused only on the work they were doing. Below the chatter, Conner thought about his next move—he was helpless in fighting the idea. Finally he decided—he was going to ask Leslie when she had that yoga class again because he might drop by that coffee shop at about the same time. They could sit on those girlie chairs and talk, without Dan or any other crew coming around. Maybe they could talk without her hating him. That would be a start.

He looked at his watch. It was four. They’d be knocking off soon, and he didn’t want to miss her if she quit and went home. “I’m going to walk over to the office,” he told Dan. “I have a question for Leslie.”

“Take your time,” Dan said.

But as Conner walked out of the construction, he saw a car pull up. It was a shiny black late-model Cadillac with Oregon plates, which pulled up to the trailer and parked next to Leslie’s SUV. A good-looking man in a wool coat and shiny shoes got out. He looked around, saw Conner in the front doorway, took in his surroundings and entered the trailer.

Conner had a very good idea who that might be. He wouldn’t barge in on them, but he wasn’t going far. He leaned against the porch post of the house in progress, near enough to rescue her if needed.

A half hour later, Dan joined him outside with his lunch pail. “You didn’t get far.”

“A guy went into the office,” Conner said. “He’s got Oregon plates,” he added, indicating the car. Not a construction worker’s car, that was for sure. “He might be here to see Leslie, so I’m waiting until he leaves.”

“He could be here to see Paul,” Dan said. “He could be a buyer or potential buyer.”

“Then he’d have an appointment and Paul would be here.”

Dan grinned. “You’re not just another pretty face, are you, Conner? Want me to wait with you?”

Way to go low-profile, Conner chided himself. “No, thanks. I can take him.”

Dan just laughed. “Then close up when you’re done, will you?”

“Absolutely.”



Leslie was nearly finished with the payroll books on the computer when she heard the door to the trailer open. She was used to crews coming and going, to Paul popping in now and then. But then she heard, “Leslie?”

She dropped her head on the desk. God. No.

“Leslie?”

She took a deep breath, pushed back her chair and stood up. She moved to the doorway of her office and looked down the long hall. There he was. Shit! “Greg, what are you doing here?” she said more patiently than she felt.

“Well, what do you think I’m doing here? You ran out on me with no forwarding address. You changed your cell number!”

She walked down the hall toward him, shaking her head. “Greg, we’ve been divorced over a year. You’re remarried. Your new wife is pregnant. I didn’t run out on you—I moved. I no longer have a relationship with you.”

“Now see, that’s just crazy! Of course we have a relationship, a very important one, just a different one than we had a couple of years ago.”

It was exactly this kind of talk that had pushed her over the edge. And while it used to just break her heart, she’d had enough. “Are you insane?” she demanded. “Are you seriously nuts? Because it’s different all right—I don’t like you anymore, don’t you get that? I don’t want to be in touch with you. I don’t want us to be friends. You wanted a new life, a different life. Go home! Wallow in it.”

Now he was doing the head-shaking. “Leslie, what’s happened to you? We’re going to have to work on that. We’re much too civilized to have hard feelings like this between us after all the good years we’ve had. We’re going to get past the misunderstandings and forge a new, stronger friendship. I care about you. You’re very important to me. Very important!”

She stared at him in disbelief that had become common for her when faced with Greg. “This is why I moved. Because you need medication. Listen to me carefully,” she said, stepping toward him. “You cheated on me. You left me. You somehow conned me out of my half of our community property, you remarried and your new wife is pregnant with the baby you didn’t want to have with me. If everyone in my life cared about me that much I would be the most pathetic creature on the face of the earth.”

“The way you look at things,” he muttered disparagingly.

“How did you find me?”

“I asked everyone we knew. Your parents wouldn’t tell me, your old boss wouldn’t tell me—”

“And did they tell you why they wouldn’t tell you? I asked them not to. It’s because of conversations like this one that I moved! So, who told?”

“One of the crew for Haggerty’s said he heard you went to work for Paul in Virgin River.”

“And you drove down here?” she asked, astonished. “Why didn’t you just call the site?”

“I want you to look me in the eye, Leslie, and tell me we can’t ever be on good terms. Because it kills me to think you hate me.”

She took another step toward him. “We can be on good terms, Greg,” she said with more confidence than she’d had even a few weeks ago. “As long as I never have to talk to you or see your face again. Now go home and leave me alone.”

“I want to make this right, because I—”

“I know. Because you care about me. You’re too late to make it right. You made your choice and I made mine and I’m done.”

“I wish there was some way I could make you understand. Everything changed in an instant. I became a different man with different needs, with different expectations. It was a transition, Leslie. It wasn’t something I thought about or planned. It was as if—”

In a second he was going to say, I’d never been in love like this before. He’d said it to her before, and she could still feel the ache. “Go. Leave!”

“Now, Leslie, listen to reason....”

She marched over to the kitchen sink, pulled the fire extinguisher off the wall, freed the hose and aimed it at him.

“Okay, now you’re acting unbalanced,” he said.

“If you don’t get in your car and head for Grants Pass immediately, I’m going to mess up your pretty cashmere coat. And your perfect hair!”

“Now look—”

She fired at his shiny John Lobbs.

“Hey!” he yelled, jumping back.

“Seriously, on the count of three. One, two—”

“You’ve lost it, Leslie,” he said, but he was backing toward the door. “You’ve never acted like this. I’m worried about you.”

“Then give me a real wide berth,” she advised. “Three!”

He nearly fell out the door.



Conner watched as Paul Haggerty was just pulling up to the trailer. Greg Adams was standing behind his car, trunk open, cleaning his shoes with a rag he’d pulled off his golf clubs. Paul screeched to a stop and jumped out of the truck. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t find Leslie anywhere in Grants Pass, and I heard she came to work for you, so I drove down,” he said impatiently. He showed Paul his golf towel. “She shot at me with the fire extinguisher!”

Paul rocked back on his heels and laughed. He tilted his head back and bellowed. Paul was much taller and stronger than Greg. And at the moment, much happier. “Did she now?”

“What’s going on here? Why would she do that?”

“Because, shit for brains, she’d like you to disappear and leave her alone. I’m sure she’d like to stuff you in a hole, but since that isn’t going to happen, second choice is you go home to your new wife and leave her the hell alone. You get that?”

Greg slammed his trunk closed. “What is the matter with everyone? I’m trying to be a gentleman! Leslie was my wife for eight years! I want to be sure she’s taken care of!”

“Best way to do that is to skip the cheating part,” Paul sagely advised.

“I wish I could find a way to explain about that. My whole life changed in a second and it was like… Oh, never mind, what’s done is done. I’m tired of saying that I’m sorry as all hell and would change it if I could, but some things just happen. Right now all I care about is that Leslie and I can be on civil terms. That’s very important to me.”

Paul got in his face, which meant he had to look down a little. “You better hear this, Adams. Pay attention. Go away and leave the girl alone. Copy? Now I’m going in my office and if she’s upset or crying I’m going to hunt you down and beat the shit outta you.”

Greg stiffened indignantly. “Threats, Paul. People get in trouble for talk like that.”

“If I have to drive all the way to Grants Pass,” Paul added. “Get outta here.”

Then Paul went to the trailer, opened the door and stepped up. Before the door closed Conner heard him yell, “Don’t shoot!”

Conner chuckled and went into the new construction to gather up his belongings and lock up.

Yeah, there were things about this place to like.



The showdown with the ex put Conner in a very social mood, and he went to Jack’s Bar. He happened to run into Paul Haggerty, which was just perfect. Since Paul had seen Conner standing in the doorway of the house in progress, Conner asked after Leslie. “I didn’t have any details,” Conner said. “But the idea of this guy I’d never seen before going into that trailer where Leslie was alone, well, I decided to stick around to be sure everything was all right.”

“Thanks for that, Conner. Around here it just doesn’t occur to me we have to be watchful. I guess I forget there are people around we shouldn’t trust.” It didn’t take Paul long to spill the basics of Leslie’s story, not knowing Conner heard it. “That was her ex-husband and he’s one of the reasons she preferred working in Virgin River to staying in Grants Pass, which has always been her home. He just won’t go away quietly.”

Jack put a beer on the bar for Paul. “Shot him but he just won’t die?” he asked.

“Something like that. But I ran him off and checked on Les. She was a little pissed, but fine.” He grinned. “She turned the fire extinguisher on him.”

“No kidding?” Jack asked with a laugh. “I knew I liked her.”

During the course of the conversation, Paul mentioned that he’d rented Leslie a little house he’d fixed up and it was just a couple of blocks from the bar. And then, beer done, it was time for Paul to get home to dinner.

Conner had his dinner at the bar, and when he was finished and it was time to go home, he just couldn’t shake off that social mood. He had an irresistible urge to check on Leslie himself; he just couldn’t talk himself out of it. He drove around town, and it didn’t take long to spot her yellow Volkswagen SUV in front of a small house. He parked on the street behind it and went to the door.

She opened it and tilted her head at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was watching the trailer today, making sure the guy in the shiny Caddy wasn’t giving you any trouble.”

“You were?”

He nodded. “I was headed over to ask you something when he pulled up and went inside.”

She hesitated for a second. “Come in, Conner,” she said.

“I don’t want to impose,” he said. But he entered the little house quickly, before she could change her mind. He was quite impressed. It was a very homey, attractive place that seemed perfect for her, and it was completely settled, pictures hung, framed photos on the buffet, a dried flower arrangement and place mats on the dining table, a throw on the end of the sectional sofa. He followed her into the kitchen where he could see Dan’s handiwork in the granite countertops and darkly stained oak cupboards.

She had been sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper spread out and a cup of tea beside it.

“So,” she said. “That was him—the cheerful ex, wondering why we can’t be more chummy.”

“He came out of the trailer with some white foam on his pretty shoes,” Conner said, and he couldn’t suppress a grin.

“I lost it. His utter lack of remorse, the way he takes so little responsibility for what happened, like we should all be grown-ups and overlook it. �But Leslie,’” she mimicked. “�I can’t help what I feel. It’s not as if I planned for my feelings to change.’” She snorted. “Is that accurate? That we can’t help what we feel?” she asked Conner, an imploring look on her face.

“Probably,” he said. He hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. “But we can help what we do.”

She took a breath. “Would you like some tea?”

“No, thanks. But I’ll sit a minute if you feel like talking. If you want to get it off your chest.”

She indicated the chair opposite hers, and she sat down. “I don’t know if this will make sense, but one of the reasons I took the job down here is so I could stop talking about it. Well, that’s not true at all—I was far from done talking about it, but my friends and family were done listening. Who can blame them after a year and a half? You know, I have friends who divorced, who have kids they have to co-parent with the ex, who have very manageable relationships with exes, and I admire them for it! What is wrong with me? Why am I not the least bit grateful that Greg wants us to be friends?”

Conner shrugged before he said, “Maybe because he considers himself totally justified?”

“You’re right. That whole business of how he just couldn’t help himself, he had no control—that’s what makes me feel like crap!”

Conner smiled at her.

“Should you smile at me when I say I feel like crap?”

He shook his head, but the smile remained. “I was just thinking, I’m not making any excuses for him—he’s a dog—but that feeling? That you just can’t help yourself? That’s a feeling I like.”

“Is that a fact?” She braced an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand.

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s good. I can still control my actions when I feel that way, however.”

“And you do that, how?”

He leaned toward her. “By being strong.” He leaned back. “There’s something I thought you’d want to know—I don’t think it’ll be a problem for you, but Paul told me and Jack that the guy who came to the trailer today was your ex and that you shot him with the fire extinguisher.”

“Swell,” she said.

“Jack was impressed. Paul didn’t give any more personal details and I didn’t let on that I knew anything. But jeez, Les, it really made me want to be a chick.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “How so?”

“That was awesome. A guy couldn’t get away with that. I wish I could’ve hosed down my ex, but I had some serious training in how women had to be treated, even if they were very bad.”

“I guess I’m going to have this reputation now....” she speculated.

He gave his head a little shake. “I think you’re going to have admiration. Paul obviously feels very protective of you.”

“The whole Haggerty family has been really good to me, especially through this. Paul’s dad, the founder of Haggerty Construction, is a tough old bear of a guy who adores his wife. They’re the most wonderful grandparents, and I take it they have very strong feelings about loyalty and commitment issues.”

“I hope most people do,” Conner said.

She reached across the table and touched his hand lightly. “Conner, I don’t think most people do,” she said. “I think maybe it’s a rare and admirable quality.”

He felt a surge of heat at her soft touch, and he looked down at her hand. It was so perfect, her nails bleached white and filed short. Her skin was flawless. He wouldn’t mind feeling those perfect, soft hands all over him.

“Here’s something you might get a kick out of,” Conner said. “Paul got right up in your ex’s grille and told him he was going in the trailer, and if you were upset he was going to hunt him down and beat the shit out of him, even if he had to go all the way to Grants Pass to do it.”

Leslie smiled happily. “He did?”

“He did. I haven’t known Paul very long, but I’ve never seen him look so scary. I thought it was a great idea.”

Leslie laughed lightly. “And to think I almost opened fire on him!”

“I heard him yell �Don’t shoot!’”

“I wasn’t putting that fire extinguisher down until I heard Greg’s car drive away. I should have done that a long time ago. It was the first time I got so angry.”

“If he comes back and bothers you again, he’s mentally challenged.”

“You’d think so, huh?” she said. “Conner, I think Greg is a narcissist. He’s not a mean guy, at least not overtly. But everything is all about him, I see that now. He pays a lot of compliments, sucks up a lot, strokes a lot of people—influential and even not so influential—and it’s all so he gets what he wants.”

“And what the hell could he possibly want with you?”

“The perfect divorce. He has lots of image concerns. While we were married he wanted everyone to think we had the perfect marriage. He said he hoped to be a role model, to be admired, in business, in relationships and hopefully one day in a larger political arena than even the City Council. It’s very important to him to be respected. When I caught him cheating, he fessed up at once and all within the course of one hour explained how he’d fallen in love despite his intentions, he couldn’t help it, would be divorcing me and marrying her but that we would always be best friends because he would never stop loving me. He would just have to stop being married to me because his feelings had changed and he was going through a life transition. Oh—and as he put it—I wouldn’t want him to live a lie or be unhappy for the rest of his life, would I?”

“Wow.” Conner thought he couldn’t be more surprised by things like this, especially after what he’d gone through with Samantha. “Do you mind if I ask you? If it’s none of my business, just say so. But how’d you catch him?”

“Modern technology and celebrity gossip. I thought the whole idea that someone who was cheating on his wife would have a lot of incriminating texts on his cell phone was completely ludicrous. Especially famous someones. It actually made me laugh! How could anyone be that stupid? So just out of curiosity while Greg was in the shower, I read his texts. I didn’t expect to find anything. A lot were from me and his office and bingo, a lot of sexy snippets with someone named Allison. While he was blow-drying his hair, I texted her from his phone. I told her I wanted to lick her whole body, and she texted back that it was right where he left it, waiting and ready.”

Conner couldn’t help it, the laughter rumbled out of him and made his eyes water. “You didn’t do that,” he said.

“I did so. Greg was mortified.”

“Wow,” Conner said again, wiping his eyes. “Yeah. Mortified. He must have wanted to be caught.”

“I don’t know about that, but he was definitely ready to be caught. It turned out we had very few assets. And his new wife is an attorney.”

Conner shook his head. “There must have been no sharp objects in the house....”

“I was in shock for a while. I actually thought he’d come back to me. That didn’t last long.” She sipped her tea. “It was nice of you to check on me, Conner. But I’m fine. Totally fine.”

“You’re not in shock anymore.”

“Indeed not. So what did you want to ask me?”

“Oh. That. I was wondering if you were headed to that yoga class tomorrow, since it’s Saturday. Because I could be headed to that coffee shop at about the same time. And maybe this time we could get off on a better foot, as in, you not furious with me.”

“No,” she said. “Tomorrow I’m getting my exercise in the yard. I’m planting flowers. It’s spring. And I’m settling in.”


Five

Saturday started with a summons to Brie’s house. His landlord, Luke Riordan, the owner of the cabins, knocked on Conner’s door and said, “I have a message for you to call Brie when you’re up.”

“I’m up,” he said. “Is your phone available?”

Brie wanted him to come to brunch. He honestly didn’t know if that was code for something else, he just accepted the invitation. It turned out to be code for something else.

“I’ll give you breakfast,” Brie said. “But you’re going to call Max from my office phone. I spoke to him an hour ago. He just wants to update you.”

Regis Mathis, out on bail and his case in the capable hands of one of the best defense attorneys in the West, seemed to be keeping a very low-profile. When he was seen in public, he had lots of men around him. Bodyguards, perhaps.

“How is it he’s out of jail? I saw him kill a man and then he threatened to kill me. And we know he burned down the store!”

“Unfortunately, we don’t know as much about that as you might think. It’s not his voice on your answering machine, which should come as no surprise.”

“No, the surprise is why he would dirty his own hands in the killing when obviously he didn’t need to. He was locked up when the store burned down, so we know he knows people who could do his killing for him.”

“I have some theories about that,” Max said. “I’m not at liberty to discuss it any further—we’re still investigating. Confidentially, we’re looking into some connections between Mathis and Randolph. But it’s early....”

“When can we get this circus over with?” Conner asked.

“Looks like a trial date of May twenty-fifth if there aren’t any more defense delay tactics, but I think you can count on the defense doing everything they can to slow the process. They’ve already been hammering us with motions.”

“Great,” Conner said.

“Listen, they’re caught and they know it. The blood in the car belonged to the victim, it was a good warrant, there’s an impartial eyewitness, there might have been trouble between the two men—therefore motive… There’s no way out of this for him, Conner. But he’s not going to go down quickly or quietly. You have to prepare yourself for that.”

“How long could it take?” Conner asked.

“I’d hate to speculate. The judge is a hanging judge and won’t tolerate a lot of paper delays, that’s in our favor. Just sit tight and let’s hope for the best. Our biggest problem is going to be jury selection.”




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