by Robyn Carr
Angie laughed. “Listen, Mom, do yourself a favor. Cancel it. You don’t need much more than an everyday counselor to figure out that my brain is fine. The problem isn’t me. I’m not doing things your way and it’s making you crazy. I have to go. I don’t want to be late for the raising of the tree.”
“Angie…!”
“Bye,” she said, disconnecting.
Neuropsychiatrist? Never gonna happen. Besides, she’d already seen at least one of those and no one, no matter how many degrees they had, could convince her that rejecting her mother’s plan for her life automatically signaled a personality disorder.
The phone rang again, but Angie zipped her jacket and headed out the door. She stopped on the porch to indulge in a moment of remorse. Sadness. There was bound to be friction between a firstborn daughter and her strong-willed mother. Angie had always known how to please her parents and, in fact, usually had. Her mother proclaimed her a handful to raise, and yet, she’d managed to be Donna’s pride and joy. Angie had never rebelled so thoroughly before.
Donna didn’t seem to push back on Angie’s younger sisters with the same kind of determination. When Jenna or Beth resisted their mother’s plans, Donna seemed to let go faster. Easier.
“Dr. Temple, do you think my personality has changed?”
“It’s possible. And there’s always PTSD. Catastrophic accidents and long recoveries can have that effect.”
“Do I have a disorder?”
“Disorder? I’m no expert, but I don’t get the sense of a disorder. Do you think you have a disorder?”
“You know, I just feel like I finally woke up. I feel as if I should change things. It’s filling me with a sense of relief, of second chances, but it’s upsetting my family. They’re worried and angry, especially my mother. I’m battling with her over things like school. Battling like never before.”
“Hmm. Well, have you asked yourself—do you like the new you?”
“I do. I want to be more independent. But I hate disappointing my mother. She’s had it in her head I should be a doctor for a long time.”
“I think, Angie, that you have to act on what’s in your head, not your mother’s. You’re an adult, not her little girl anymore. Maybe you two need a little space to figure things out.”
Not long after Angie had that conversation with Dr. Temple, Uncle Jack and Brie had stepped in. Jack called Donna and said, “The two of you are fighting like a couple of cats in a sack. You’re not going to get better this way. Send Angie up here for a while. A few weeks. Let her get some perspective and take a breather. This is ridiculous.”
It took a follow-up phone call from Brie, but Donna finally came around. She was persuaded to put off the head butting at least until after the first of the year.
Angie could almost hear her father breathe a sigh of relief.
* * *
When Angie arrived in town, she saw that even though the hour was early, the place was already a circus. The big flatbed with an enormous tree strapped to it blocked the street and mounted on another truck was a giant winch. The ground had been plowed free of snow right between the bar and the church, back off the road a bit in the area where, in milder weather, there were picnic tables. That’s where the tree would stand. The sound of a hydraulic post digger assaulted the morning air as meanly as a jackhammer, and a lot of people stood around watching while the tree was being attached to the lift. Cables trailed off the tree—likely to be anchored to stakes in the ground to steady it.
It was so big.
Someone pressed a cup of coffee into her hands and she turned to see Mike V, Brie’s husband, her uncle Mike. She had forgotten her desire for caffeine. “Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek.
“How’s that little cabin working out?” he asked.
“It’s perfect. I’m going to get some candles from the bar—I sat on the porch last night and just watched the snow. If I’d had some candles…”
“I’m sure that can be arranged, chica,” he said, draping an arm around her shoulders.
As they stood together in the street, watching, chains were tightened, the motor on the lift was pumping away and more and more people who had been forced to park down the street were walking toward the tree-raising. Jack and General Booth stood near Paul Haggerty, talking and pointing and gesturing, but Paul seemed to completely ignore them as he directed his team.
It took long enough that Angie’s coffee was gone by the time the tree was finally lifted off the bed of the truck. Four men holding four cables maneuvered the airborne tree so that the trunk slipped into the hole that had been dug right in the ground. Then the cables were pulled tight, straightening the tree. There was a loud, collective “Ahh” in the crowd of people gathered around to watch. There was a bit of muffled applause thanks to the gloves and mittens worn by most of the spectators.
Finally Jack and the general had major roles—they were standing across the street from the tree to judge the straightness of it before the cables were secured to the ground. They were gesturing right, then left, then right....
And Angie saw him. He was standing on the porch of the bar, leaning a shoulder against a post. He was most definitely watching her. When their eyes met he did that smile thing again—half his mouth lifted. His eyes got just a little bit sleepy, but the glittering green was still overwhelming. She wanted a close-up of those eyes.
Real close.
Patrick lifted a coffee cup to his lips, but he never took his eyes off her, peering at her over the rim of the cup.
“You okay, chica?” Mike asked.
“That guy,” she said, just taking him in. “Do you know him?”
Mike followed her eyes. “Patrick? I know his brothers. I’ve only met him once or twice.”
“How long has he lived around here?”
“Just visiting, I hear. You okay?”
“He’s staring at me,” she said in a low voice, trying not to move her lips.
Mike cleared his throat. “Um, listen, if he’s making you uncomfortable, I could have a word with him.”
She grinned at Mike. “He’s making me uncomfortable all right, but not exactly in a bad way. Don’t say anything, all right? Don’t make him stop. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me that way before.”
Mike turned Angie toward him. His black eyes bore into her with intensity. “Ange, don’t play with fire. I don’t know much about Patrick except that he has some difficult situation going with the military. The Navy just gave him more leave to sit in Virgin River than they typically grant, which usually indicates a problem of some kind. You should at least talk to Jack before you do anything young and foolish.”
She laughed at him, amused. “Wow, doesn’t that sound fun, a chat with Uncle Jack about an interesting guy. Now I was kind of young at the time, but if I remember correctly Uncle Jack thought you were a bad idea for Aunt Brie. Do I have that right?”
Mike pursed his lips as he pondered this. “We were both older than you, for one thing. We had been through some real major crises, for another, which left Jack feeling a little on the protective side. And we were careful to take it slow—know what I’m saying? I don’t know any details but I hear Patrick has had some issues—real problems. Hear me?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “Fortunately, I haven’t been through any crises or had any problems....”
“Oh, man,” Mike said. “Now you’re scaring me.”
She patted his arm. “I’ll be just fine, Uncle Mike. I know it’s hard for everyone to accept this, but I’m not a little girl anymore. I can handle this.” She turned to look again at Patrick but he wasn’t there. “Crap,” she muttered. “I hope you didn’t scare him away. I wanted to talk to him.”
“I was on the verge of suggesting you don’t talk to him.”
“Yeah, I know,” she sai
d. “I think I need a refill on the coffee. Thanks. By the way, where is Brie?”
“I think she’s in the bar with Ness, but, Ange—”
“I’ll catch up with you in a while. Thanks for the coffee.” She glanced at the tree and gave it a nod. “You might want to tell Jack it’s leaning west.”
* * *
Angie scored in the bar. Brie was there with little Ness, sitting at a table with Mel and Emma, chatting it up while the little girls made an attempt at coloring. There were only a few people in the bar since the tree-raising was occupying almost everyone in town. She noticed Patrick sitting at the far end of the bar on the other side of the room, all alone, far away from her aunts.
“Ah, my favorite aunts,” she said. She leaned down to give each of them a kiss on the cheek, telling them the cabin was awesome. She immediately excused herself to go to the bar for more coffee. They might’ve expected her back at their table after she’d gone behind the bar to serve herself. Instead, she paused, took a deep breath and hopped up on a stool right next to Patrick. She imagined that Brie and Mel wouldn’t know how much courage she’d needed to do that. They knew she wasn’t particularly shy, but they couldn’t possibly know how little experience she had with men, especially a man like this—handsome, sexy and out of her age range by at least a few years.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Angie LaCroix.” She put out a hand.
He stared at the hand for a moment, then lifted his gaze to her eyes. And, oh, sweet baby Jesus, he was beautiful. He took her hand in his much larger one. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Just go for it, she thought. Why not? “I thought we should meet, since you look at me like you’re the big bad wolf. And you are…?”
He couldn’t seem to suppress a short laugh. “I bet you know exactly who I am.”
“Ah, yes, Patrick Riordan, the youngest brother of a clan anchored here. Do I have that right?”
“More or less. I have a couple of brothers here and another couple not too far away.”
“Right. So you’re here visiting family?”
“Not exactly. I’m here because one of my brothers has a vacation cabin here and I had some time on my hands. Since the lot of them are planning a Christmas gathering in San Diego, there won’t be a crowd of Riordans here for the holiday. That suits me fine. I wanted a quiet place to hang out for a while. I wasn’t looking for a family reunion, but it’s always good to see a brother or two. Just not too much of them.”
She looked perplexed. “If you want to avoid them, why would you come to their little town?”
“It’s complicated. The Riordans are extremely nosy and opinionated. They gather. They swarm. If I hadn’t come here, they would have come looking for me. All of them. That’s what happens in my family. We can leave one another alone for months at a time but then when something happens, like a brother at some kind of crossroads, accident or crisis, the troops are called in and the wagons are circled. When you’re the one the wagons are circling, it sucks.”
She was silent for a moment. “That’s very grumpy of you.”
“Well, you did ask.”
“You know, we have a little something in common,” she said. “I’m here for a little R and R myself and for a similar but not identical reason. I dropped out of school. I’m not sure I want to pursue my original plan and I need a break. My parents, who are both college professors, are going a little crazy on me. A little distance from them seemed like a good idea. In fact, it was Uncle Jack’s idea.” She grinned at him. “Though I suspect I didn’t get far enough away. My uncle Jack can get a little…intrusive…protective. For example, he suggested I stay away from you.”
“Me? Why? What’s wrong with me?” he asked.
“Apparently you’re scary and dangerous,” she informed him with a sly smile.
“What? Dangerous? Me? Who said that?”
“It was implied,” she admitted. “I’ve been advised by the older men in my life not to get involved with you, but no one has told me exactly why. So, why?”
He chuckled silently and shook his head. “Listen, I’m just here for a few weeks. Maybe you should stay away from me. And you look like you finished school a long time ago. You must be younger than you look.”
“I finished college. It’s a postgrad thing. But… How old do I seem? Because you undress me with your eyes. Skillfully. And at a great distance, too.”
He leaned toward her. “How old are you?”
“Almost twenty-six,” she said, straightening, sitting tall.
“How almost?” he pressed.
She took a breath. “Twenty-three.”
He groaned and looked down, shaking his head. “God. You’re younger than you look.”
“So how old are you?” she asked. “Forty?”
“Hey,” he said. “I’m thirty-three.”
She leaned her head on her hand, elbow braced on the bar. “Had a hard few years or something?”
“Whoa! You’re brutal!”
But Angie was really starting to enjoy this adventurous, flirty side of herself. This was certainly new territory for her, but she suddenly had the urge to explore it. “The way you look at me should at least be considered a misdemeanor. Or a proposal, I’m not sure which. But it didn’t feel that bad and I thought maybe if we talked…”
“What? You thought I’d ask you out on a date or something? Sweetheart, this is Virgin River. If we sit here and talk for even five more minutes, everyone in town will put us together.”
“Let’s take a chance,” she said, amazing herself. But then, she was on a mission. She wanted to know someone who she could relate to. Who could relate to her. And it sure didn’t hurt that Patrick Riordian was smokin’ hot. “Talking isn’t against the law.”
“What if I don’t feel like talking? You don’t want to mess around with the big bad wolf.”
“Do you feel like listening? Because I can always talk. And we have things in common, you and I.”
“I don’t feel like fighting off the vigilantes who’ll come down on me to protect your honor, so I think me going home right now is a better idea.”
At that, Angie smiled so big that Patrick actually leaned back slightly. “So!” she said. “You do like me!”
“How the hell would I know?” he barked at her. “I don’t even know you!”
“Then why do you watch me? Stare at me? Get mad when I suggest we spend a little time talking?”
“Because you’re a cute little sexpot, and while you might be old enough for this flirtation, I can tell you’re way too inexperienced for it, and you have a posse in town looking out for you and I don’t need any trouble! Believe me, I have enough trouble!”
She glanced down at herself. Old jeans with a torn knee, a pair of battered cowboy boots that she’d been attached to for years, khaki canvas jacket and an oversize white sweater—and no makeup.... She looked up at him and laughed. “Sexpot? Jesus! Are you serious?”
He pursed his lips and put his hands in his jacket pockets. “Serious,” he hissed.
“Well, holy shit, if this gets your motor running, I’m not going anywhere!”
“Angie…”
“You should see me when I get dressed up! I can look damn good.”
“Angie…”
“Patrick,” she mimicked.
Suddenly Brie was standing on the inside of the bar holding the coffeepot. She wordlessly refilled their cups without making eye contact and disappeared back to her table. Angie knew they were talking about her. She knew it and didn’t care.
“I have an idea,” Angie said. “Let’s just have a cup of coffee. Then we’ll reassess things. However, I have to warn you, I kind of like that you find me irresistible.”
“Did I say that?” he asked, a slight tint creeping up his stubbled cheeks. �
�I didn’t say that! I find you completely resistible.”
“Touchy, huh? Maybe you should have something a little stronger than coffee.”
He gave her a slow look, a full appraisal that made her warm, a feeling she couldn’t remember having before, and she liked it. She was growing more bold by the minute. Then with his eyes narrowed he said, “All right, we’ll have a cup of coffee. You’ll talk. Then I’ll head home and you’ll stop looking for trouble.”
She stared at him levelly. “Do women actually find you scary?” she asked.
* * *
Patrick couldn’t remember ever treating a woman like that, rudely looking her over, trying to make her uncomfortable to scare her off, running roguish eyes up and down the length of her. Especially a sweet young thing like Angie. In fact, he had always been the complete opposite, a gentleman to the core. Present circumstances had put a rough edge on him. Plus, his instincts told him it would be practical if not wise if she just didn’t get too close. He was a wreck without much to offer. The only woman who had his attention right now was his best friend’s widow, that’s how sad his life had become.
But Angie wasn’t easily discouraged. With a cup of coffee in front of him he said, “No young woman should come on to a man she doesn’t know, especially after being warned away from him by her protectors. That sort of thing could get you hurt.”
“Oh, stop,” she said. She took a sip of her coffee. “Jack and Preacher and Mike said they know you a little bit and are friends with your brothers. They all said you were troubled by something but no one ever suggested you were dangerous—I made that up to flatter you. So guess what? I might be troubled, too. You might think I’m a little nuts, but the truth is I wouldn’t mind having a friend who also has some things to sort out.”
He just stared at her. “And what might be troubling you, miss? Dropping out of some cushy college program?”
“Exactly right,” she answered. “But not because I was bored or disillusioned. I was in an accident and had to take leave. It was a medical leave.”
