Temptation Ridge
Jack reached out, grabbed Luke’s upper arm and said, “You bet. Welcome to the neighborhood, brother.”
“Now, tell me where to go for a night out that might include women, who to call if I need help with the house or cabins and what hours I can get a beer here,” Luke said.
“Been a long time since I’ve been looking for women, buddy. The coastal towns have some nice spots—try Fortuna or Eureka. There’s the Brookstone Inn in Ferndale—nice restaurant and bar. Old-town Eureka is always good. Then for something a little closer, there’s a little bar in Garberville with a jukebox.” He shrugged. “I remember seeing one or two pretty girls there. And I have just the guy for you if you need help with the remodel. A buddy of mine just moved a part of his family’s construction company down here from Oregon and he’s doing Preacher’s add-on. He helped me finish my house. He’s a helluva builder. Let me go get one of his cards.”
Jack went into the back and hadn’t been gone a minute when two women came into the bar and almost gave Luke a heart attack. A couple of pretty blondes, one in her thirties with curly golden hair and the other, much younger, with an unforgettable thick, honey-colored braid that hung down her back to her waist. The girl from the roadside; the one he saved from a muddy bath—Shelby. Both of them were wearing tight jeans and boots. The golden girl had on a loose-knit sweater, while Shelby wore the same crisp white shirt from earlier, sleeves rolled, collar open and tied at the waist. He tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help looking at them, though they hadn’t noticed him at all. His immediate thought was that he wouldn’t have to go as far as Garberville. They jumped up on bar stools just as Jack came from the back.
“Hey, baby,” he said, leaning across the bar to the older of the two women, kissing her. Ah, Luke thought, those would be the illegal jeans that keep him from fishing. What man wouldn’t give up fishing to spend more of his time with a woman like that? “Meet a new neighbor. Luke Riordan, this is Mel, my wife, and Shelby McIntyre—she has family here.”
“Pleasure,” he said to the women.
“Luke here owns those old Chapman cabins on the river and he’s thinking of renovating. He’s ex-army, so we’re gonna let him stay.”
“Welcome,” Mel said.
Shelby said nothing. She smiled at him, letting her eyelids drop a bit. He judged her to be about eighteen, just a girl. In fact, if she’d been any older, he might’ve gotten a phone number out there on the muddy road. Eureka or the Brookstone couldn’t beat this, though both these women were obviously completely off-limits—Mel was Jack’s woman and Shelby appeared to be a teenager. A very sexy teenager, he thought with a slight flush of warmth. But their appearance held promise. If two such beautiful women could be found in a little bar in Virgin River, there had to be a few more scattered around these mountains.
“Here you go,” Jack said, sliding a business card across the bar. “My buddy Paul. Right now he’s also building a house for my younger sister, Brie, and her husband next door to us. Plus one for himself and his wife.”
“My cousin,” Shelby said.
Luke lifted his eyebrows in question.
“Well, Paul’s married to my cousin Vanessa. They’re staying at my Uncle Walt’s and I’m staying with them.”
“You want a beer, Mel?” Jack asked his wife. “Shelby?”
“I’ll have a quick soda with Shelby, then I’m going home to relieve Brie of the kids so she can have dinner with Mike,” Mel said. “I just wanted to swing through and tell you where I’ll be. I’ll feed the kids and put them to bed. Will you bring us some of Preacher’s dinner when you come home later?”
“Be happy to.”
“And I’m going home to help with the horses,” Shelby said. “But I’ll have a beer first.”
Well, at least she was twenty-one, Luke found himself thinking. Unless Jack had some very relaxed age standards in this little neighborhood bar, which was entirely possible.
“I’d probably better get going—” Luke said.
“Hang around,” Jack said. “If you don’t have to go, five o’clock usually brings out the regulars. Perfect opportunity to meet your neighbors.”
Luke looked at his watch. “I guess I can hang out a while.”
Jack laughed. “Buddy, the first thing that’s gonna go is that watch.” Jack put a beer in front of Shelby, a cola in front of his wife.
Luke talked with Jack a while about the renovation of the bar while the women were occupied with their own conversation. Not ten minutes had passed when Jack said, “Excuse me, I’m going to walk my wife out,” and Luke was left at the bar with Shelby.
“I see you changed clothes,” Shelby said to him.
“Um, that was pretty necessary. The schoolmarm got me good.”
She laughed softly. “I never thanked you. For saving my blouse.”
“No thanks necessary,” he said, sipping his beer.
“I’ve seen those cabins,” Shelby said. “I like to ride along the river. They look pretty awful.”
He chuckled. “I’m not surprised to hear that. With any luck, they’re not beyond hope.”
“They were built a long time ago when people used quality materials,” she said. “I learn these things from my cousin—some of these old houses are built like brick shit—Um. Well. So, do you expect your family to join you here?” she asked him.
He grinned into his beer. And the question, so quick and to the point, surprised him. He lifted his eyes from his beer and looked at her. “No,” he said. “I have a mother and brothers scattered around.”
“No wife?” she asked, one corner of her mouth tilting upward along with the slight lift of one pretty brow.
“No wife,” he said.
“Aw. Too bad,” she said.
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, Shelby. I happen to like it this way.”
“Solitary kind of guy, are you?”
“No. Just an unmarried kind of guy.” He knew this was his cue to ask her if she was attached to someone special, but it was irrelevant. He wasn’t going there. And while he knew getting to know her better probably wasn’t wise, he put an elbow on the bar, leaned his head on his hand, met her eyes and said, “Just visiting, huh?”
She took a drink of her beer, nodding.
“How long are you in town for?”
“That’s still kind of up in the air,” she said. Jack was back behind the bar and Shelby put down her glass, still half-full, and a couple of dollars on the bar. “I’d better go take care of those horses. Thanks, Jack.”
Jack turned toward her. “Shelby, why don’t you just ask for half a beer?” he said.
She shrugged, smiling. She put out her hand to Luke. “Nice seeing you again, Luke. Later.”
“Sure,” he said, taking her hand. As she left, he watched her walk out. He didn’t want to do that, but the view was impossible to resist. When he looked back at Jack, Jack grinned, then got busy behind the bar.
Before seven o’clock Luke had met Preacher—or John to his wife and young stepson. He met Paige, Preacher’s wife, and Jack’s younger sister Brie and her husband, Mike. He saw old Doc Mullins again and passed the time with some of his new neighbors. He feasted on some of the best salmon he’d ever eaten, heard some local lore and was already feeling like one of the gang. While he was there others passed through for dinner and drinks, greeting Jack and Preacher like old pals.
Another couple entered and Luke was introduced to Paul Haggerty, the builder, and his wife, Vanessa. “Jack gave me a call,” Paul said. “He tells me we have you as a new neighbor.”
“That’s optimistic,” Luke said. “I haven’t been out to the property yet.”
“Is that your camper out there?” Paul asked.
“As a precaution,” Luke said with a laugh. “If the house isn’t habitable, I won’t have to sleep in the truck.”
“Be sure and let me know if you need me to look at any of it.”
“I appreciate that. More than you realize.”
Luke found himself staying at the bar far later than he had intended. In fact, when Jack’s friends were saying good-night, he was still there, having a cup of coffee with Jack. These seemed like nice people, though he was a little shell-shocked by the women. He could accept the idea that Jack had found himself a young beauty right in Virgin River, but it seemed they were everywhere. Shelby, Paige, Brie and Vanessa were all damn sweet-looking. He held out great hope of landing himself at least a little diversion in the next town over.
“You’re going to want to meet Paul’s father-in-law, Walt,” Jack said. “He’s retired army.”
“Yeah?” Luke asked. “I think Shelby mentioned that.”
“Three-star. Nice guy.”
Luke groaned in spite of himself. He actually dropped his head. And apparently Jack was reading him.
“Yep. Shelby’s Uncle Walt,” Jack said.
“Shelby. The eighteen-year-old?”
Jack chuckled. “She’s a little older than that. But I admit, young. Looker, though, isn’t she?”
That was impossible to miss, Luke thought. “I took one look at her and felt like I was going to get arrested,” he said, making Jack laugh. “How much more dangerous could she be, huh? Young, sweet and living with a three-star.”
“Yeah,” Jack laughed. “But hell, she’s all grown up now. Grew up fine, I’d say.”
“Hey, I’m not getting near that,” Luke said.
“Whatever you say,” Jack said.
Luke stood up, put money on the bar, put out his hand and said, “Thanks, Jack. I really didn’t expect this kind of welcome. I’m glad I shot through town before going out to the house.”
“Let us know if we can do anything to help. Nice having you with us, soldier. You’re going to like it here.”
Two
It was typical of the Sheridans to have their dinner together at the bar, often with friends and family, and then Jack would load up his little family and send them home so Mel could put the children to bed while he stayed on, serving until closing. On this particular night, Mel had hurried home to relieve Brie of babysitting. Jack snuck out of the bar a little early and brought their dinner home.
It could still amaze him, the satisfaction he felt when he went home to his family. Three years ago he was a single man, living in a room built onto his bar, completely disinterested in a domestic tether like this. Now he couldn’t imagine any other kind of life. He kept thinking that the strength of his feelings for his wife should settle into a kind of complacency by now, and yet his passion for her, the depth of his love, only grew by the day. She had wound her sweet love around his heart and owned him, body and soul. He didn’t know how he’d lived so long without it; didn’t know why other men evaded it, and he finally understood his friends who’d lived this life for years.
It was nothing fancy: a meal at the kitchen table, some conversation about the building at the bar, the new guy in town, Shelby’s return for a nice long visit while she applied to colleges. But for Jack it was the most important part of his day, that time he had Mel all to himself, the kids tucked in for the night.
When the dishes were cleaned up, Mel headed for the shower first. Jack brought in logs and laid a fresh fire in the master-bedroom hearth—the nights were already getting brisk. Fall came early in the mountains. When that was done, he went around the house collecting trash to take to the town Dumpster in the morning. He pulled off his boots by the back door and as he passed the laundry room, he tugged off his shirt and socks and left them on the washer. By the time he got back to his bedroom, the shower had stopped running. He hung his belt in the closet and went to the master bath.
As he stood in the doorway, he caught Mel in front of the mirror, quickly pulling her towel closed over herself. She had a guilty look on her face as she met his eyes in the mirror. “Melinda, what are you doing?” he asked, unzipping his jeans to take them off and take a shower of his own.
“Nothing,” she said, averting her eyes.
He frowned and stepped toward her. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Were you covering up? In front of me?” he asked, astonished.
“Jack, I’m going to pot,” she said, cinching the towel tighter.
“What?” he asked, laughter in his voice. “What are you talking about?”
She took a deep breath. “My boobs are drooping, my butt fell into my thighs, I have a potbelly, and if that’s not bad enough, I’m so covered with stretch marks, I look like a deflated balloon.” She put a hand against his rock-hard chest. “You’re eight years older than I am and you’re in perfect shape.”
He started to laugh. “I thought you were trying to cover a tattoo or something. Mel, I didn’t have two children, a year apart. Emma’s only a few months old. Give yourself a little time, huh?”
“I can’t help it. I miss my old body.”
“Oh-oh,” he said, putting his arms around her. “If you’re thinking like that, I’m not doing my job.”
“But it’s true,” she said, laying her head against the soft mat of hair on his chest.
“Mel, you are more beautiful every day. I love your body.”
“It’s not what it was…”
“Hmm. But it’s better,” he said. He tugged at the towel and she hung on. “Come on,” he said. She let go and he pulled it away. “Ah,” he said, smiling down at her. “This body is amazing to me—incredible. More lush and irresistible every day.”
“You can’t mean that,” she said.
“But I do.” He leaned down and touched her lips with his, one hand on her breast, the other moving smoothly down her back and over her bottom. “This body has given me so much—I worship this body.” He lifted her breast slightly. “Look,” he said.
“I can’t bear it,” she complained.
“Look, Mel. Look in the mirror. Sometimes when I see you like this, uncovered, I can’t breathe. Every small change just makes you better, more delicious to me. You can’t think I’d have anything but complete admiration for the body that gave me my children. You give me so much pleasure, sometimes I think I might be losing my mind. Baby, you’re perfect.”
“I’m twenty pounds heavier than when you met me,” she said.
He laughed at her. “What are you now? A size four?”
“You don’t know anything. It’s much more than a four. We’re headed for double digits…”
“God above,” he said. “Twenty more pounds for me to gobble up.”
“What if I just keep getting fatter and fatter?”
“Will you still be in there? Because it’s you I love. I love your body, Mel, because it’s you. You understand that, right?”
“But…”
“If I had an accident that blew my legs off, would you stop loving me, wanting me?”
“Of course not! That’s not the same thing!”
“We’re not our bodies. We’ve been lucky with our bodies, but we’re more than that.”
“It was my butt in a pair of jeans that got your attention….”
“My love for you is a lot deeper than that, and you know it. However—” he grinned “—you still knock me out in those jeans. If you’ve gained twenty pounds, it went to all the right places.”
“I’m thinking—tummy tuck,” she said.
“What nonsense,” he said, leaning down to cover her mouth in a bold and serious kiss. His hands were moving up and down her bare back and before seconds had passed, she was losing herself in his touch. “The first time we made love, I thought it was the best love I’d ever had. Ever. The best experience of my life. I really didn’t think it could get better—but it does. Every time, richer and deeper than the time before.”
“I’m going to stop eating Preacher’s fattening food,” she said, but she said it a little breathlessly. “I’m going to insist he start making salads.”
He took her hand in his and put her palm against his belly, sliding it down. “I’m not going to have time for that shower,” he said, his voice husky. His lips went to her neck. “Unless you want to get back in, with me.”
“Jack…”
“You know how much I wanted you that first night?” he whispered against her cheek. “I’ve wanted you more every night since. Come on,” he said, bending and lifting her into his arms. “I’m going to show you how beautiful you are.” He carried her to the bed, laid her softly on the sheets and knelt over her, an arm braced on each side. “Want me to light the fire?” he asked with a chuckle.
She ran her hands down over his narrow hips, sliding his jeans lower. “Jack, if you start to find me unattractive, will you tell me? Please? While there’s still time for me to do something about it?”
He covered her mouth, kissing her deeply. “If that ever happens, Melinda, I’ll be sure to tell you.” He kissed her again. “God, you taste good.”
“You don’t taste bad,” she whispered, letting her eyes fall closed.
“Any special requests?” he asked her.
“Everything you do is special,” she whispered.
“Fair enough,” he said. “We’ll just do everything….”
When Luke pulled up to the house and cabins in the dark of night, he used a big flashlight to illuminate them. The electricity had been shut off last year when old Mr. Chapman passed. All he could really make out was a house black as pitch and a few cabins with peeling shingles and some boarded-up windows. A closer inspection had to wait until morning.
But the sound of the rushing river was awesome. What a great locale this was for the time being. He remembered how much he’d liked this place the first time he’d seen it—the sound of the river, the owls, the wind through the pines making that whistling sound, the occasional bark of a goose or quack of a duck. Although it was cold, he pulled out extra blankets and planned to sleep with one of the camper’s windows open so he could hear the river and the wildlife.
At the first light of morning, he pulled on his jeans and boots and went outside to a morning that was just turning pink, the air crisp and damp. Just down the bank he could see the river rushing over natural waterfalls where, in fall, the salmon would be jumping upstream to spawn. On the opposite side of the river were four deer having a drink. And—unsurprisingly—the house and cabins looked like hell. What a pimple on the face of this beautiful landscape.
Exactly what he expected. A lot of work ahead, but great potential. They could sell it right now for the value of the land, or he could improve the structures and get a much better price. And he needed something constructive to do while he plotted his next move. He could scout around for a helicopter flying job. There were news choppers, medical transport, private industry. He took a deep breath. But for right now, this little piece of river land was perfect.
He went first to inspect the house. The porch out front was nice and big, but would have to be reinforced, sanded and stained or painted. The door was stuck and he had to force it, splintering some of the rotting wood around the jamb. Of course the place was filthy—not only had it not seen a good cleaning in a long while before Mr. Chapman’s death, in the year since, a couple of animals had burrowed in and taken roost. He heard the sound of scurrying, saw footprints on the dusty floor, and the countertops suggested a menagerie. The place would be full of mice, raccoons, maybe opossums. Hopefully the bear didn’t have a den in here. He’d be sleeping in the camper for a while.
It didn’t have a good smell, either. Everything was left as it was the day Mr. Chapman passed—the bed was even mussed as though he’d just gotten out of it. Dirty clothes littered the floor, there was rotten and petrified food in the kitchen, all the furniture was still in place. Nasty, musty, stained furniture that was on its very last legs. The appliances also seemed to be about a million years old and the refrigerator had never been cleaned out before the electricity was shut off. It was completely destroyed by odors that would have to be blasted out.
Right inside the front door was a decent-size living room with a good-looking stone hearth. To the immediate left was a large, empty dining room separated from the kitchen by a breakfast bar that was sagging. The kitchen was big enough for a table and four chairs or, better still, a butcher-block island.
Straight ahead was a short hall—on one side a big bathroom with a clawfoot tub, on the other, a utility room. Straight ahead was a bedroom. No walk-in closet here—this was an old-fashioned house. The old man had left large, man-size bureaus and wardrobes. The bed was a big, wooden four-poster. Luke didn’t much like the furniture, but he thought since it was solid, heavy, durable ash, it was probably valuable.
He made a U-turn and went back to the living room. There he found a staircase to the second floor. He went up cautiously, not sure of the reliability of the steps. Plus, it was dark up there. If he remembered, there were two good-size bedrooms and no bath. More scurrying. He ran back down the steps. He could look up there after the exterminator had paid a visit.
Standing in the living room, he did a mental inventory. The good news was, it didn’t appear the place had to be gutted and completely remodeled to make it livable. The bad news was, what had to be done was going to be expensive and time consuming. Everything but the ash bedroom furniture needed to go away. Far away. It wasn’t even up to secondhand standards. The floors would have to be sanded, the cupboards torn out and replaced, new countertops would have to be installed, the old wallpaper stripped, windowsills, doors, frames, baseboards sanded and stained, or maybe just replaced.
But first, the amount of trash hauling and pest removal was going to be a giant pain in the butt. At least this was work he could do, with the help of an exterminator. He’d inspect the roof later.
He walked out of the house and pried open the door to the first cabin. More of the same. The furniture was rotting, the floor was covered with debris. The cabins were all one-room efficiencies that hadn’t been used in years, so the small stoves and bar-size refrigerators were outdated and probably didn’t work. He was good with wood and paint, but he didn’t trust himself with gas and electricity. He was looking at six empty cabins, all in need of new hot-water heaters, stoves, refrigerators and furniture. He’d have to get up on the roofs and see how they had held up through the years, but from where he stood, it looked as though the shingles were mostly missing or rotting. And the wood on the outside of the cabins, all in need of scraping, sanding and painting. Every window would have to be replaced.
He did a mental calculation. It was nearly September. From January to June, before the summer people came for camping and hiking, things were slow and wet around this part of the world. If he could get the house and cabins in shape by spring, he could put them on the market or open them up for rent to vacationers. If it turned out he was bored with the mountains by then, he’d lock the whole business up and make tracks to either San Diego, where his brother Aiden was stationed and there was plenty of beach and swimsuits, or to Phoenix, where his widowed mother lived and would be forever grateful for his presence. He could always chase a flying job if he wanted to.
He unhooked the camper from the truck, unloaded his Harley from the truck bed and parked it up on its stand in front of the house. He grabbed a pair of work gloves, broom and shovel from the bed of the truck, got his toolbox out of the trailer and began scooping out the house. He could at least fill the back of the trunk with trash and, on his way to Eureka to have the utilities turned on, hire an exterminator and rent a big Dumpster; he could also dispose of a big load at the dump.
By noon he had a huge pile of trash in front of the porch. He got to work on loading the trash into the back of the pickup. The bright afternoon sun had warmed up the air and he was sweating like a farmhand, so he took off his shirt. He was just hefting a big three-legged overstuffed chair into the back of the truck when he spotted her. Holding it over his head, he froze.
She was sitting in the clearing astride a big American paint. She smiled at him. Pure, innocent honey. Luke couldn’t move. The horse was beautiful, at least fifteen hands. She was wearing khaki shorts, rolled up high on her tanned thighs, a pair of what appeared to be laced hiking boots with white socks rolled over the tops, a white short-sleeved T-shirt and a khaki fishing vest. With that long, pale blond braid down her back and a Stetson on her head, she could be fifteen, tiny and built solid. The thought that she looked like a statutory offense came instantly to mind and he felt every day of his thirty-eight years.