Author: Robyn Carr

The August afternoon was warm, with a cool, refreshing breeze; the night would be chilly in the mountains. He hadn’t been out to the house he planned to live in, which had been vacant for a year. If it was uninhabitable, he had his camper. He took a deep breath. The air was so damn clean, it stung the lungs. Such a huge change from the deserts of Iraq and El Paso. Just what he’d been needing.

He walked into the renovated cabin and found himself in a good-looking little country bar. He stood just inside the door and looked around appreciatively. The hardwood floors gleamed, hot embers glowed in the hearth, hunting and fishing trophies hung mounted on the walls. There were about a dozen tables and a long, shiny bar behind which there were shelves full of liquor and glasses surrounding a stuffed king salmon that must have weighed about forty pounds at the catch. A television, mounted high in a corner, was tuned to national news, the volume turned down. A couple of fishermen, identifiable by their khaki vests and hats, sat at one end of the bar playing cribbage. A few men in work shirts and jeans were having drinks at a nearby table. Luke looked at his watch: 4:00 p.m. He walked up to the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“A cold draft, thanks. This place wasn’t here the last time I was through town.”

“You’ve been away a while then. I’ve been open more than four years now. I bought it and turned it into this.”

“Well, you did a helluva job,” he said, accepting the beer. “I’m going to be doing some remodeling myself.” He stuck out his hand. “Luke Riordan,” he said.

“Jack Sheridan. Pleasure.”

“I bought some old cabins along the Virgin that have been sitting empty and going downhill for years now.”

“Those old Chapman cabins?” Jack asked. “The old man died just last year.”

“Yeah, I know,” Luke said. “I was back here hunting with one of my brothers and a couple of friends when we first saw them. My brother and I thought the location, right on the river, might be worth some money. We noticed the cabins weren’t in use and wanted to buy ’em and fix ’em up for a quick resale, turn ’em fast and make a couple of bucks. But old Chapman wouldn’t even listen to an offer….”

“It would have left him homeless,” Jack said, giving the bar a wipe with a cloth. “He wouldn’t have had too many options, and he was all alone.”

Luke took a drink of his icy beer. “Exactly. So we bought the whole property, including his house, and told him he could stay there, rent free, for life. It turned out to be seven years.”

Jack grinned. “Sweet deal for him. Smart deal for you. Property doesn’t come available around here that often.”

“We could see right off the land under those cabins was worth more than the buildings, right on the river like that. I haven’t been able to get back here since, and my brother has only been up here once, just to have a look—he said nothing had changed.”

“What held you up?”

“Well,” he said, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Afghanistan. Iraq. Fort Bliss and a few other places.”

“Army?”

“Yeah. Twenty.”

“I did twenty in the Marine Corps,” Jack said. “I thought I’d come up here and serve up a few drinks, fish and hunt for the next twenty.”

“Yeah? Sounds like a good plan.”

“My plan got derailed by a cute little nurse midwife by the name of Melinda.” He grinned. “I would’ve been fine, but that woman does something to a pair of jeans that ought to be against the law.”

“That so?” Luke asked.

“Anyone can go fishing,” Jack said with a satisfied smile.

Luke didn’t mind seeing a man happy with his life. He smiled back. Then he asked, “Did you do most of this work yourself?”

“Most. I got some help, but I like taking credit where I can. This bar is a custom job, delivered to me finished. I installed the shelves and laid the hardwood floors. I didn’t trust myself with the plumbing and I screwed up the wiring enough to have to hire someone, but I’m good with wood—I managed to add a large one-room apartment onto the back to live in. My cook, Preacher, has it now and is adding on again—his family’s growing, but he likes living at the bar. You going to work on those cabins?”

“I’m going to look at the house first. Chapman was already pretty old when we bought the whole business—that house probably needs work. And I have no idea what shape the cabins are in, but I don’t have anything better to do right now. Worst case, I can fix up the house and live in it for a while. Best case, I can renovate the house and the cabins and put ’em on the market.”

“Where’s your brother?” Jack asked.

“Still active. Sean is stationed at Beale Air Force Base in the U-2. It’s just me for now.”

“What did you do for the army?” Jack asked him.

“Black Hawks.”

“Shew,” Jack said, shaking his head. “They go in some real hot spots.”

“Tell me about it. I came out the hard way.”

“You drive one in?” Jack asked.

“Hell, no,” he said indignantly. “I had to be shot down.”

Jack laughed. “Man. At least you got your twenty.”

“It wasn’t even the first time,” Luke said. “But in a moment of sheer genius, I decided it should be the last.”

“Something tells me we’ve been in some of the same places,” Jack said. “Maybe even at around the same time.”

“Saw some combat, did you?”

“Afghanistan, Somalia, Bosnia, Iraq. Twice.”

“Mogadishu,” Luke confirmed, shaking his head.

“Yeah, we left you boys in a mess. I hated that,” Jack said. “You lost a lot of brothers. I’m sorry, man.”

“It was bad,” Luke agreed. What started out as a relief mission sanctioned by the UN ended in a horrible uprising after the Marine Corps was pulled out and the army was left behind. Somalian warlord Aidid launched an attack that left eighteen U.S. Army soldiers dead and over ninety wounded in a bloody conflict. “One of these days, Jack, we’ll get drunk and talk about the battles.”

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.