In Virgin River, you never know what you might find around the bend in the road…

Former actor Dylan Childress left the L.A. scene behind years ago for a quiet life running an aviation company in Montana. But with business slowing down, Dylan is starting to wonder whether he should take one of the offers Hollywood keeps sending his way. He figures a motorcycle trip to Virgin River with his buddies might help him decide what path to take. But his own troubles are left at the side of the road when he spots a woman stranded on the way into town.

Katie Malone and her twin boys’ trip to Virgin River is stopped short by a tire as flat as her failed romance. To make matters worse, it’s raining, the boys are hungry and Katie is having trouble putting on the spare. So when some bikers pull up beside them, offering to help, all Katie feels is relief. Then she sees sexy, leather-clad Dylan Childress, and in one brief moment the world turns on its axis.

Katie’s a sensible single mother and Dylan’s a die-hard commitment-phobe. Neither one is looking for long-term romance. But sometimes it takes only a moment to know you’ve found something that could change your life forever.

Praise for #1 New York Times bestselling author 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

Redwood Bend
Robyn Carr

www.mirabooks.co.uk

For Jill Shalvis with gratitude

for providing her very own bear with triplet cubs

for this story, and even more importantly, with heartfelt thanks

for a lovely, devoted friendship.

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Epilogue

One

Katie Malone quit her job and packed up her little Vermont house. The past few years had been tough and the past few months, having been separated from her brother, Conner, her only family, had been awful. In fact, she’d been feeling so alone, she stopped herself just moments before signing on to an online dating service.

But her watershed moment came when she began to have high hopes for a romantic relationship with her boss, the sweetest pediatric dentist who ever lived and a man who had never even kissed her. And guess what? There was a logical reason he hadn’t—he was gay. She was the last person he wanted to kiss.

It was high time she forgot about men and worked on bolstering her independent spirit with a return to California. One of her twins, five-year-old Andy, said something that nearly drove an arrow through her heart and caused her to realize the whole family needed a fresh start.

She was packing up a box to ship ahead to California when Andy asked, “Do we have to move in the dark again?”

She was stunned. Speechless. Here she had been thinking about kisses and loneliness while her boys were worried about fleeing in the dark of night to some strange, unknown place. A place even farther from family than they were now.

She clutched her little boy close and said, “No, sweetheart! I’m taking you and Mitch to Uncle Conner.”

Andy and Mitch were a matched set, five-year-old identical twins. Mitch overheard this and came running. “Uncle Conner?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, suddenly clear on what she had in front of her. She had to get her family together, make sure her boys felt safe and secure. “Right after a little side trip. How does Disney World sound?”

They started jumping for joy, screaming “Yay!” and “Cool!” And then the celebration dissolved to the floor and into a wrestling match. Like usual.

She rolled her eyes and continued packing up.

Last winter her brother had had a devastating experience that had become a family crisis. A man had been murdered behind their family-owned hardware store and Conner called the police at once. He became the only witness in a capital murder case. Shortly after the arrest was made, the hardware store was burned to the ground and a threat was left on Conner’s voice mail. This led the D.A. to decide it was in the best interest of their family to separate them. Katie and her boys were spirited off to Vermont for their own protection, about as far from Sacramento as she could get and still stay in the country, while Conner was hidden away in a tiny mountain town in Northern California.

Now it was over. The suspect in the murder had been killed before he could stand trial, Conner was no longer a witness and their family had escaped danger. Now they could get about the business of healing and bonding.

And Conner had met someone in Virgin River, Leslie, a woman he loved. He’d settled in to make a life with her.

Katie would enjoy surprising her brother, but they’d long ago established the habit of talking every day. Conner talked to the boys, if only briefly, at least every other day—the closest thing to a father they had. There was no way she could conceal her travel plans. If Conner didn’t suspect, the boys would certainly tell all.

“Summer is almost here,” she told Conner. “It’s almost June, we’re all free to roam and move around now that there’s no threat. I have to get my boys back to some kind of stable life. They need you, Conner. I’d like to spend the summer in Virgin River with you, if that’s okay. I want to rent my own place, of course, but the boys should be near you.”

“I’ll come and get you,” Conner immediately offered.

“No,” she said flatly. “I’m taking the boys on vacation, just the three of us. We’ve earned it. We’re going to Disney World for a few days. I’ll have the car shipped from there, then we’ll fly to Sacramento and I’ll drive up to Virgin River—it’s only a few hours. And I love scenic drives.”

“I’ll meet you in Sacramento,” he said.

She took a breath. Conner’s overprotectiveness had intensified after their parents’ deaths. He was always there for her and she adored him for it, but he verged on bossy and sometimes she had to take a firm hand with him. “No. I’m not a child. I’m thirty-two and very competent. And I want to spend some time with my kids. They’ve been on shaky ground since the move and we need some fun time together.”

“I only want to help,” he said.

“And I love you for it. But I’m going to do this my way.”

And he backed off! “All right, fair enough.”

Katie was momentarily shocked into silence. “Wow,” she finally said. “Who are you and what have you done with my big brother?”

“Very funny.”

“Although I have the utmost respect for you, I give all the credit for this change to Leslie. Tell her I owe her.”

When Katie had escaped to Vermont in March, she had left behind her minivan with the license plate that could identify her. It was to be sold and Conner had arranged for a late-model Lincoln Navigator SUV to be waiting for her in Vermont—a mammoth vehicle that she could barely park. As any carpooling mother might, she had grieved her minivan—it was light and easy to handle and felt like an extension of her body. But she came to quickly love the big, gas-guzzling SUV. She felt like queen of the road—invulnerable; she could see over everything and everyone. She looked forward to some time on the road for reflection, to consider her options. The act of seeing the miles vanish in the rearview mirror was a good way to leave the past behind and welcome a new beginning.

It didn’t take Katie long to get out of town. She had UPS pick up her boxes on Monday, phoned the school and arranged to have the boys’ kindergarten records scanned and emailed to her, invited the landlord over to check the condition of the house, and asked her neighbor to come over and help herself to the perishables that would otherwise be thrown out. She arranged to have the Lincoln picked up in Orlando and moved to Sacramento while she and the boys did a little Disney. She packed not only clothes, but the cooler and picnic basket. Her tool belt, which was pink and had been given to her by her late husband, Charlie, went with her everywhere. Armed with portable DVD players and movies, iPads and rechargers, she loaded her monster SUV and headed south.

They got off to a great start, but after a few hours the boys started to wiggle and squabble and complain. She stopped for the bathroom for one when the other one didn’t have to go and fifteen minutes down the road, had to stop again for the second one. They picnicked at rest stops every few hours and she ran them around to tire them out, though the only one who seemed tired was Katie. She repaired a malfunctioning DVD player, set up some snacks and loaded them back up to hit the road again.

She couldn’t help but wonder how parents did this sort of thing ten, twenty, thirty years ago before portable movies and iPad games. How did they manage without fifth-wheel-size cars with pull-down consoles that served as tables to hold games and refreshments? Without cars that, like cruise ships, had individual heating and air-conditioning thermostats? How did the pioneer mothers manage? Did they even have duct tape back then?

Most women, at times like this, would be reduced to self-pity because they were left with these high maintenance, energetic boys, but Katie just wasn’t that kind of woman. She hated self-pity. She did, however, wish Charlie could see them, experience them.

Katie met and married Charlie when she was twenty-six. They had a romantic, devoted, passion-charged relationship, but it had been too short. He was a Green Beret—Army Special Forces. When she was pregnant with the boys, he deployed to Afghanistan where he was killed before they were born.

How she wished he knew them now. When they weren’t in trouble they were so funny. She imagined they were like their father had been as a child; they certainly resembled him physically. They were large for their ages, rambunctious, competitive, bright, a little short-tempered and possessive. They both had a strong sentimental streak. They still needed maternal cuddling regularly and they loved all animals, even the tiniest ones. They tried to cover up their tears during Disney movies like Bambi. If one of them got scared, the other propped him up and reassured and vice versa. When they were forced together, like in the backseat of the car, they wanted space. When they were forced apart, they wanted to be together. She wondered if they’d ever take individual showers.

And just as she’d always griped at Charlie for never closing the bathroom door, she still longed for a little solitary bathroom time. The boys had been in her bubble, no matter what she was doing, since they could crawl. She could barely have a bath without company in the past five years.

So her life wasn’t always easy. Was theirs? They didn’t seem to realize they didn’t have the average family life—they had a mom and no dad, but they had Uncle Conner. She showed them the pictures of their dad and told them, all the time, how excited he had been to see them. But then he’d gone to the angels.... He was a hero who’d gone to the angels…

So Disney World was a good idea. They’d all earned it.

Mickey didn’t wear the boys down quite enough. Three days and nights at Disney World seemed to energize them. They squirmed the whole way to Sacramento on the plane and because they’d been confined, they ran around the hotel room like a couple of nut balls.

They set off for Virgin River right after breakfast, but as for the scenic drive to Virgin River, it was dark, gloomy and rainy. She was completely disappointed—she wanted to take in the beauty Conner had described—the mountains, redwoods, sheer cliffs and lush valleys. Ever the optimist, she hoped the gray skies would help the boys nod off.

But not right away, apparently.

“Andy has Avatar! It’s my turn to have Avatar!”

“Christ almighty, why didn’t I buy two of those,” she mumbled.

“Someone wants soap in her mouth,” Mitch the Enforcer muttered from the backseat.

It was hard to imagine what she’d be up against if Charlie were still with them. He had no patience and the filthiest language. Marines blushed when he opened his mouth. For that matter, Katie wanted to shout into the backseat, I took you to goddamn Disney World! Share the goddamn movie! “If I have to stop this car to deal with your bickering, it will be a very long time before we get to Uncle Conner’s house! And then it will be straight to time-out!”

They made a noble effort, but it involved a great deal of grunting, shoving and squirming.

As soon as she got off Highway 5 and headed for the narrow, winding road that skirted Clear Lake the driving became more challenging. Sometimes it was harrowing. She passed what appeared to be a small dock house or shed that had broken apart in the lake, right off the road, but as she slowed, she saw that it was an RV that had slipped off the road and crashed into the water. She slowed but couldn’t stop; there was no place to pull over and behind her were the sirens of first responders.

Once they got to Humboldt County, she turned off the freeway right at the coastal town of Fortuna and headed east on Highway 36, up into the mountains. This was a good, two-lane highway and as she rose into the mountains, the views took her breath away. Huge trees on the mountainsides reached into the clouds, lush farms, ranches and vineyards spread through the valleys below. She couldn’t indulge in the views—there were no guardrails, nor were there wide shoulders. And before she’d gone very far up the mountain she found herself buried in the forest on a winding road that broke left, then right, then up, then down. The trees were so large, blocking what little light there was, and her headlights in the rain were a minor help.

Then it happened. She felt a bump, then heard a pop. The big car swerved, then listed to the left and went kathump, kathump, kathump. She pulled over as far as possible, but was on a very short straightaway between two curves, so still stuck out into the road a bit. Here’s where having the supersized SUV wasn’t so convenient.

“Stay in the car, in your seats,” she told the boys. And she cautiously exited the car, watching for traffic coming around the curves in either direction. The rain came down in a steady sheet, although it was filtered by the boughs of huge pines and sequoias. Those pine needles didn’t do much to keep her dry, however. She shivered in the cold rain and wondered, This is June? It had been so warm in Sacramento, she hadn’t taken jackets or sweatshirts out of their suitcases. She hadn’t accounted for the temperature drop in the mountains.

She crouched, sitting on the right heel of her Uggs, and glared at the traitorous tire in disgust. Flat as a pancake, rubber torn away. What a mess. It wasn’t going anywhere, that was for sure.

Katie knew how to change a tire, but just the same, she got back in the car and took out her phone. On a vehicle this size, it could be a challenge. Maybe they were close enough to Virgin River for Conner to help.

No bars. No service. No help.

Well, that certainly diminished her options. She looked into the backseat. “Mommy’s going to change the tire and I need you to stay in the car and sit very, very still. No moving around, all right?”

“Why?”

“Because I have to jack up the car where the flat tire is and if you wiggle around it could fall and maybe hurt me. Can you sit still? Very still?”

They nodded gravely. She couldn’t have them out of the car, running wild in the forest or along this narrow highway. She shut off the SUV and went to the rear, lifting the hatch. She had to pull out a couple of suitcases and move the picnic basket to open the wheel well cover and floorboard. She pulled out the lug wrench and jack.

The first thing to do was actually the hardest for a woman her size—loosening the lug nuts before jacking up the car. She put her whole body into it, but she couldn’t budge a single one. Not even the slightest bit. This was when it didn’t pay off to be five foot four and a lightweight. She used a foot and two hands. Nothing. She stood up, pulled a rubber tie out of the pocket of her jeans and wound her long hair into a ponytail. She wiped her hands down her jeans and gave it another try, grunting with the effort. Still nothing. She was going to have to wait for someone to…

She heard a rumble that grew closer. And because today wasn’t turning out to be one of her luckier days, it couldn’t be some old rancher. Nope. It had to be a motorcycle gang. “Crap,” she said. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers.” And she waved them down. Four of them pulled up right behind the SUV. The one in front got off his bike and removed his helmet as he approached her while the others stayed balanced on their rumbling bikes.

Whew, wasn’t he a big, scary-looking dude. Huge and leather-clad with lots of hair, both facial and a long ponytail. He also jingled a little while he walked—there were chains around his boot heels, hanging from his belt and adorning his jacket. With his helmet cradled in the crook of his arm, he looked down at her. “Whatcha got?”

“Flat,” she said, and shivered. “I can handle it if you’ll just help me with the lugs. I’m in good shape, but I’m no match for the air compressor torque that tightened ’em down.”

He cocked his head and lifted one brow, probably surprised that a woman would know about the torque. He went over to the tire and squatted. “Dang,” he said. “Doesn’t get much flatter than that. I hope you have a spare.”

“In the undercarriage. Really, I can—”

He stood up and cut her off. “Let’s just get ’er done. That way the lugs on the spare will be as tight as these.”

“Thanks, but I hate to hold you up. If you’ll just—”

He completely ignored her, walking back to his bike and stowing his helmet. He pulled a few flat road warning triangles out of his side pocket and handed a couple to riders. “Stu, take these warning markers up the road to that curve. Lang, go back down to that last curve and put these out. Dylan, you can help change the tire. Let’s do it.”

And then he was walking back to where she stood, still holding the lug wrench. Now, Conner was a big man and this guy was yet bigger. As she stood dripping in the rain, she felt fully half his size. As two bikers rode away with their road markers, the fourth, Dylan, propped up his bike, removed his helmet and came toward them. And her eyes almost popped out of her head. Warning! Major hottie! His black hair was a little on the long side, his face about a couple of days unshaven, his body long and lean with a tear in each knee of his jeans. He walked with a slight swagger, pulling off his gloves, which matched his tan leather jacket, and stuffing them in the back pockets of his jeans, though they were so tight there couldn’t be much room for anything. She lifted her eyes back to his face. He should be on a billboard.

“Let’s make this easy,” Number One was saying to Dylan. “How about you lighten the load a little bit.” And then he applied the lug wrench, and with a simple, light jerk, spun the first lug nut, then a second, then a third. Piece of cake. For him.

Dylan approached her and she noticed his amazing blue eyes. He completely ignored her and began to pull things out of the back of the SUV—first a large, heavy suitcase, a smaller one, then the cooler. Meanwhile, the SUV was lifting, apparently already on the jack.

Dylan paused, cooler in his hands, looking down at her. She followed his gaze down. Swell. Her white T-shirt was soaked, plastered to her skin, her pretty little lace bra was now transparent, her nipples were tan bullets pointed right at him. He looked up and frowned. He put down the cooler, stripped off his leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders, pulling it closed.

Nice, she thought. Wet T-shirt display on the deserted road for a biker gang. “Thank you,” she mumbled. And she backed away so he could empty the back and get the tire from the undercarriage.

“Must’ve hit a pothole or something,” the first biker was saying. “That tire is done for.”

She hugged the jacket around herself and his scent rose, his very pleasant musk combined with rain and forest. It was toasty inside, dripping on the outside. Okay, maybe they weren’t Hells Angels. Just a bunch of nut balls out for a ride in the rain?

While Dylan took the spare around the SUV to his buddy, Katie got into the suitcase on top and pulled out a dark, cowl-neck sweatshirt. She put the leather jacket in the back of the car and pulled the sweatshirt over her wet T-shirt. She looked down. Better.

Not long after her clothing adjustment, Dylan came around the back of the car, carrying the useless tire, his long-sleeved shirt glued against his totally cut, sculpted chest. His shoulders and biceps bulged with the strain of carrying the heavy tire. But, God, what a body. He probably shouldn’t be out riding in the rain—he should be modeling or working with the Chippendales.

Stop, she told herself. Great to look at, but I’m sworn off. I’m concentrating on my future and my family.

After he stowed the tire, she picked up the jacket and held it toward him. “Here you go,” she said. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. Hard to believe it’s June.”

“I was just thinking that.”

And then he did the most unexpected thing. He put the jacket down in the back of the SUV and stripped off his soaked shirt; he put the jacket on over skin. Her mouth fell open slightly, her eyes riveted to his body until he snapped the jacket closed. Then she slowly looked up, and he smiled and winked. He walked back to his bike, shoved the wet shirt in a side pocket and returned to the back of the SUV just as it was lowering onto a new tire.

Dylan began to reload the SUV and for a second she was just mesmerized, but then she shook herself and began to help, every once in a while meeting his eyes. Oh, God, he had Conner’s eyes—crystal-blue and twinkling beneath thick, dark lashes. She also had blue eyes but they were merely ordinary blue eyes while Conner’s (and Dylan’s!) were more periwinkle and almost startling in their depth. Paul Newman eyes, her mother used to say. And this guy had them, too! Her parents must have had a love child they left on the church steps or something.

No. Wait. She knew him—the eyes, the name. It had been a long time ago, but she’d seen him before. Not in person, but on TV. On magazine covers. But then, surely it wasn’t… Yes, the Hollywood bad boy. What had become of him since way back then?

“You can get back in if you want to,” Dylan said. “Turn the heat up. I hope you don’t have far to go.”

“I’m almost there,” she said.

Dylan put the cooler in, then the heaviest suitcase. He took a handkerchief out of his back pocket, wiped down his rain-slicked face and then began to wipe off his dirty hands. “You have a couple of stowaways,” he said, glancing into the car.

She peeked into the SUV. A couple of identical sets of brown eyes peered over the backseat. “My boys,” she said.

“You don’t look old enough to have boys.”

“I’m at least fifty now,” she said. “Ever been on a road trip with five-year-old twins?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

Of course he hadn’t, because he was some gorgeous godlike hunk who was as free as a bird and out either terrorizing or rescuing maidens in the forest. Wow.

“You’re all set, miss,” the big biker said as he came around the SUV, pulling on his leather gloves. Jeez, he had chains on those, too.

“Thanks for your help. The lugs get me every time.”

“I’d never leave a lady in distress by the side of the road, my mother would kill me. And that’s nothing to what my wife would say!”

“You have a wife?” she asked. And before she could stop herself, she added, “And a mother?”

Dylan burst out with a short laugh. He clapped a hand on the big guy’s back and said, “There’s a lot more to Walt than meets the eye, Miss… I didn’t get a name…”

She put out an icy hand. “Katie Malone.”

“I’m Dylan,” he said, taking the hand. How in the world he had managed warm hands after changing a tire in the freezing rain, she would long wonder. “And of course, this is Walt, roadside good Samaritan.” Then he addressed Walt. “I’ll ride back and get Lang. We’ll scoop up Stu on the way up the road.”

“You should be just fine, Katie,” Walt said. “Jump in, tell the little guys to buckle up, crank up the heater and watch the road.”

“Right. Yes. Listen, can I pay you for your trouble? I’m sure it would’ve cost me at least a hundred bucks to have that tire changed.”

“Don’t be absurd,” he said, startling her with his choice of words. It just didn’t seem like the vocabulary that would fit a big, scary biker dude. “You’d do the same for me if you could. Just be sure to replace that tire right away so you always have a spare.”

“You always go out for a ride in the rain?” she asked.

“We were on the road already. But there are better days for it, that’s for sure. If it had been coming down much harder, we’d have had to hole up under a tree or something. Don’t want to slide off a mountain. Take care.” Then he turned and tromped back to his Hog with the high handlebars.

Two

When Katie pulled up in front of the house in Virgin River, she saw her brother pacing back and forth on the front porch. He had told her that if she arrived before five the front door would be unlocked, yet there he was. She barely had the SUV in Park before the boys were out and tearing toward their uncle. He scooped them up, one in each arm, and just that sight alone caused all the tension she’d been feeling to float out of her, leaving her almost weak. Conner, like a great, faithful oak, always strong and steady.

She went up to the porch. “Why are you here?” she asked him.

“I wasn’t really concentrating at work, so I came home to wait for you.”

“Oh, Conner,” she said softly, her voice quivering a little bit.

He frowned. “What’s the matter, Katie?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but only shivered. Finally she croaked out, “I got caught in the rain.”

“Let’s get you inside. I’ll get the bags. We can talk after the boys are occupied.”

An hour later, with Katie fresh out of a hot, soothing shower and the boys crashed on the living room sectional in front of a movie, Conner poured her a cup of coffee. “Feel better?” he asked.

“Tons. I had a flat, that’s how I got caught in the rain. Which, by the way, is freezing in the forest. A motorcycle gang stopped and changed it for me.”

“Gang?”

“Motorcycle group?” she tried. “Not the Hells Angels, Conner. Just a bunch of bikers out riding in the rain, which begs the question… Never mind. I could’ve changed it, but I can never conquer those lugs. They were very nice men, apparently unable to listen to a weather report.”

Conner sat opposite her at the small kitchen table. “What was it, Katie? You were talking about staying in Vermont. I didn’t like that idea and I like this one lots better, but it was a sudden change of heart.”

“Yeah, because I’m unstable, that’s what. I had myself convinced I should find myself a guy like Keith, my old boss, even though the most passionate thing he said to me was, ‘Great sea bass, Katie—you could open a restaurant’!” She shook her head. “That move to Vermont—it wasn’t all bad. I made a few friends, the boys had fun at school, the neighbors were great. But I just didn’t want to be alone anymore and I started thinking, I have to find a good man who could be a good father, and look what I almost did.”

“What did you almost do?”

She took a sip of coffee. “Keith’s an exceptional man and I bet there’s no better father alive—he’s gifted with kids. And right when my frustration level was about to peak because he still hadn’t made a move, his sister Liz broke it to me. Keith is gay. It makes him nervous to think how his conservative community would treat a gay pediatric dentist, so he keeps it quiet. I saw myself getting desperate enough for companionship that I almost talked myself into a relationship with a man who had no physical attraction to me. None. Nada. Zip.”

Conner sat back in his chair. “I thought he was a little on the gentle side, but I didn’t see gay. Not that I’m any expert.”

“Me, either. But to show you how off I was, I miss Liz more than Keith. And then…” She let that sentence trail off and glanced into her cup.

“Then?” he pushed.

“Then when I started sorting and packing, Andy asked if we had to move in the dark again and I knew—I have some work to do. On myself. On my family. The boys…they’re so resilient that it’s easy to miss the fact that they’ve been in a rocky place and they need stability.”

Conner let go a low, resentful growl. “My fault,” he muttered. “That goddamn trial…”

“I’m ignoring that comment. You weren’t in charge and neither was I. We did well with what we had to manage. But, Conner, I have to make a change. Charlie was completely devoted to me, he was the most committed man I’ve ever known—to me, to the army, to his boys in Special Forces. And he wanted me in every sense of the word, and let me know it. I still miss that, Conner. I miss him enough that I almost made a mistake that would not only affect me, but the boys. I have to find a better way.”

“You do great, Katie,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Thanks, but I have to do great on my own. It’s okay for the boys to depend on you, but I have to grow some independence. I want you for a brother, not the man I continually lean on. I’m going to lean on myself. Until I figure that out, I’m dangerous as a single woman on the hunt. Know what I mean?”

“Not really,” he said.

“I know what you mean,” a woman said.

Katie jumped in surprise, sloshing her coffee a little bit. There was a woman standing in the kitchen archway, a purse slung over her shoulder and some brown take-out bags in her hands.

“Hi, I’m Leslie,” she said, smiling. She put the bags on the table.

“I didn’t hear you come in, honey,” Conner said, standing up to give her a kiss.

“There’s a car parked out front, a movie playing to a couple of sleeping little boys in the living room, so I was extra quiet.” She gave Katie a quick squeeze. “I know what you mean. I was in that exact place a year ago.”

The open road or up in the air, rain or shine, were two of Dylan Childress’s favorite places to think. In fact, that was how he met Walt, years ago. Walt had come through Payne, Montana, where Dylan and Lang operated their own small, fixed base operation and charter air service. They rode together for a day, Dylan introducing Walt to some of his favorite mountain trails and off-road routes with the best views. Dylan took Walt up in the Bonanza, a six-seater airplane for a different perspective on the views and Walt had loved that. And Walt, who had gone back to Sacramento to open a bunch of Harley franchises, had kept in touch, eager to return the favor someday.

The time had come. Living in Montana, there were only a few months of the year Dylan, Lang and the head of their maintenance operation, Stu, could enjoy their motorcycles. They took very few vacations or days off, so once a year in summer they treated themselves to a road trip. The Harleys were cheap to operate and they usually camped. Dylan had begun to worry this might be the last time the three of them might indulge their annual road trip because the business was struggling, so he got in touch with Walt and asked for some of his best California routes. Walt insisted on setting up a ride and joining them.

After arriving at the cabins Walt had reserved for them, all the riders wanted to do was warm up, dry off and have a stout meal. The first order of business was to check in, which amounted to meeting their landlord, shaking his hand and deciding who was staying with whom. There was a little grumbling about who would take the pull-out sofa beds because God knew, men couldn’t share a mattress!

As far as Dylan was concerned, Luke Riordan’s cabins by the river were a custom fit, and he was more than happy with the sofa. And not a little relieved that he wasn’t camping on the wet forest floor.

When Dylan and one of his other pilots took a charter flight out of Payne or picked up passengers in Butte, Helena or some other city, they were frequently put up in nice hotels or lodges. A little luxury was granted the pilots since the kind of customers who could hire a jet could well afford it. But Dylan was a simple guy who preferred to relax in a more rustic setting. And this was definitely it.

The four men used two cabins. Dylan doubled up with Walt which left Lang to listen to Stu grumble about not having had a good date lately. Walt, being about the size of Goliath, got the bed.

Walt had found the Riordan cabins, operated by Luke, an ex-army Black Hawk pilot who owned his own Harley and had lots of tips about local, scenic, challenging rides. There were several things about this venue that Dylan looked forward to—maybe a little fishing in that river that ran by the cabin compound to see how it compared to some Montana rivers, the local bar and grill with the atmosphere and food Walt raved about, the challenge of the mountain roads around here, the remote location and, hopefully, some time with Luke, talking flying. Dylan would love to log a few hours in a Black Hawk.

When the men told Luke they were going to dry off, clean up and get back on the bikes to head for Virgin River for dinner, Luke said, “In this weather? Walt, take my truck, we’re staying home tonight.”

“That’s awful neighborly, Luke,” Walt said. “I’ll treat her real nice.”

“I know you will. The last time you were here you tweaked the engine for me and it’s been purring like a kitten ever since. I appreciate it.”

It took about thirty minutes to unload their packs into rooms, shower and pile in the truck, headed for town—enough bikes for one day. Walt took the wheel and talked the whole way about the cook who didn’t provide a menu, cooked what he felt like, catered to the locals and visiting sportsmen and was real proud of his stuff. “I’m thinking on a wet day like today, a soup or stew—and it’ll be something special.”

Dylan and Lang had flown monied hunters to primo lodges all over the U.S. and Canada, but neither of them was prepared for Jack’s. It was simple, but classy—well constructed and beautifully maintained. The interior was all dark, glossy wood, the animal trophies advertised for local wildlife and the ambiance was upscale in its own unaffected way. Even though there were a dozen empty tables in the place, the four of them sat up at the bar and the bartender immediately stretched out a hand to Walt.

“Hey! I’ve been wondering when you’d be back. This your crew?”

“My boys,” Walt said. He indicated each one. “Dylan, Lang, Stu. We just got in about an hour ago, maybe less. Say hello, then tell me what’s doing in the kitchen.”

“I’m Jack,” he said with a chuckle, introducing himself to each one. “And to the man with the appetite, you won’t be disappointed. It might sound like just another day in Virgin River, but you’ll be happy in the end. It’s rainy—so it’s soup. But you gotta trust Preacher—it’s thick and creamy bean with ham soup, full of the best ham and onion and secret stuff. He likes to sprinkle a little cheddar on top—makes it stringy and rich. And he made the bread today—he’s keeping it warm. He bakes when it rains, as predictable as my grandmother. And the pie of the day is apple from preserves he’s had hanging around. For you tenderfoots who don’t eat apple pie, there’s a chocolate cake that will knock you out. Now, anyone want a beer or drink?”

“Bean soup?” Stu said under his breath.

“Didn’t you hear the man? You gotta trust Preacher,” Dylan said. Then he laughed. “My grandmother practically raised me on bean soup. Not the kind we’re getting here, she could barely open a can. All she could do was scramble eggs, make toast, warm up soup and…” He laughed and shook his head. “She used to fry hot dogs, but she always bought all-beef so I’d have protein.”

“You had a very strange childhood.”

“You have no idea,” he said.

When Dylan said his grandmother practically raised him on that soup, he wasn’t talking about his early childhood, but much later, when she brought him to Montana to take over parenting him. She must have had nerves of steel to do that; he was a screwed up, spoiled, arrogant, defiant fifteen-year-old boy. Not just a challenging teenager, but a star. How she pulled him through to normalcy was one of the great mysteries of the universe.

Sometimes he felt like a Charles Dickens novel—the best of times, the worst of times.... Being yanked out of his acting role and badass public life and carted off to some one-horse town in Montana, he thought he’d reached hell. On the other hand, someone finally cared about him. Focused on him. Worried about him. The first time Adele had given him bean soup, he spat it out, outraged. He’d been used to the very best; people had scrambled to keep him happy because if he was happy, they made money.

It had been years before he realized that Adele didn’t exactly have a passion for bean soup or fried hot dogs, either. She’d been a megastar all her adult life and knew all about asshole child stars. And then he also realized she fed him bean soup every day until he finally thanked her for it.

“This is probably the best soup I’ve ever had,” Dylan told Jack.

“I know. When someone around here caps a pig, or any other livestock for that matter, a lot of it goes to the clinic where my wife, the town midwife, works. We have a doc over there, too, but Mel, my wife, she usually brings her share to Preacher, since she can’t cook worth crap and I feed my family here. It’s usually a patient fee or an advance on a future patient fee—we have an interesting insurance system around here. People who need the doc and Mel—they make sure to share the wealth regularly. So Preacher, the second he sees something come into the bar, he starts thinking about how he can stretch it, what he can do with it. He has a lot of people he wants to take care of. He doesn’t sleep at night until he has the best result imaginable. Mel might be the best thing that ever happened to me, but Preacher’s gotta run a close second. He’s the guy who makes this work.”

“Is this your hometown?” Dylan asked.

“Nah, I’m a city boy, more or less. I needed something quiet after twenty in the Marines.”

“You go to war?”

“Almost habitually,” Jack said. “A few of the men I served with decided to settle here. You from Sacramento?”

Dylan shook his head. “Little town up north—Payne, Montana.”

“How’d you hook up with Walt?” Jack wanted to know.

“Walt came through Montana and we met there. He was on some kind of solitary road trip, touring the U.S., and Montana is one of the most beautiful parts, so I took him into the mountains. We outran a moose once.”

“Don’t ever get the idea a moose is cute,” Walt said. “That sucker didn’t like me. Then Dylan took me into the air in his little plane,” Walt said. “I’ve been promising to show ’em my state ever since.”

“We were looking for someone to put together a road trip that would take us some interesting places we hadn’t seen, and by interesting I mean, off the grid. With some views.”

“Well, you got views, interesting and off the grid,” Jack confirmed. “So, what does a man do in Payne, Montana?”

That brought an automatic smile as he remembered Adele on the phone to a Realtor when she was hauling his messed up fifteen-year-old ass to Payne. She said, “Find me something with built-in chores.”

“Small charter flying business,” Dylan answered. “Little, bitty airport.”

Jack lifted an eyebrow. “Is there a big call for that sort of thing in Payne?”

“Some, but business is down like the rest of the world. When business is good we not only shuttle to larger airports, we pick up passengers all over the place and take them just about anywhere they want to go. We do a lot of corporate retreats, group trips, act like a real small regional sometimes, you name it. We’ve been known to fly hunters, rock bands and basketball teams. We’re flexible.”

“You’re a pilot?”

“Among other things. Stu’s head of maintenance, and Lang also flies and runs the instruction arm of the business—we give flying lessons, instrument instruction, et cetera. There are a few others attached to the company. Seems like we all have other things to do besides be on the road all the time.”

“Sounds like it could be fun,” Jack said. “If it makes a living.”

“We live in Payne, Montana, man,” Dylan said. “Population fifteen hundred. If we can pay for fuel for the planes, hay for the horses and oil for the furnaces in our houses, we don’t need that much of a living.”

“How do the wives feel about that?”

“Lang is the only married one and not only does his wife stay involved in the company, she tries to double up his schedule, keep him out of town more. Five kids, and she isn’t interested in six.”

Lang leaned forward on the bar and grinned. “What can I say? It just doesn’t take much to keep me happy.”

Dylan gave a chuckle. Not many people knew how much Dylan envied Lang’s ability to do that, to make a happy home and have normal, civilized kids with a good, solid woman at his side. But, having come from a crazy, mismatched Hollywood family, he had long ago accepted that his genetic makeup probably prevented that possibility. Adele was the only sane and stable one. “Takes even less to make me happy,” Dylan said.

“I’d think a single guy like yourself would be inclined toward some bigger town where there are more possibilities,” Jack said.

“I get around. But I’ll always live in Payne. Alone.”

Jack gave the bar a wipe. “Yeah, I used to say that. Look out. Tougher men than you have eaten those words.”

“Like you, Jack?” Dylan asked. “You eat those words?”

“Boy howdy, as my wife would say.”

Katie realized very quickly that coming to Virgin River was one of her better ideas. It took a day and that was all. Here she thought she’d been giving up, running home to Conner, but she found so much more. When she met her future sister-in-law, Leslie, she had found true family. Conner and Leslie weren’t officially engaged, but the chemistry between them was obvious and they both admitted they’d been talking about marriage. Since both of them came from divorce experiences, they were taking it slow and easy.

While it continued to rain all through the evening, Katie and Leslie sat up late in the living room, wrapped in their robes, talking about anything and everything. The boys took the second bedroom and Katie would take the couch.

“Conner talks about how he missed so much time with the boys because he was working all the time. He wants to change that,” Leslie said. “We’re hoping you’re not in a big hurry. It’s been such a stressful spring for everyone—you both deserve a break.”

“My idea exactly,” Katie agreed. “I may have to get settled somewhere other than this little town for work and school for the boys, but I’m not going far. The boys need you and Conner in their lives. And I’ll stick around, but I don’t intend to live off you and Conner.”

“Just take it slow. Conner wants to teach the boys to fish, take them camping, goof around with them, just enjoy them for a change.”

“And what does he think I’m going to do while he goofs around?” Katie asked.

“Anything you want. We have a new school and before it opens for business in the fall, there’s a summer program. It’s real flexible, like a day camp—you don’t have to commit to taking the boys every day, but it would give them playmates and give you a little freedom, something you haven’t had much of since they were born.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“Well, wait till you see the darling little cabin Conner found for you—you’ll think you’re on vacation. Act like it!”

The next morning dawned bright and clear, the morning air crisp. She and Conner loaded up the luggage she’d pulled out the night before and she followed him out of town, down a long tree-lined road, then turned onto a drive at a mailbox. And there, sitting in the clearing with the sunlight streaking through the tree branches, sat the most adorable little A-frame cabin with a wide porch. There were hanging pots full of red geraniums and white Adirondack chairs on the porch.

She slowly got out of the SUV and approached it in wonder. There were flowering shrubs all around, lush ferns, a variety of tall pines, even a few sequoias. The boys were instantly out of the car, racing around the little cabin, while Katie stood transfixed. The A-frame seemed to be contained in a spotlight of sunshine. It looked like an enchanted cabin.

“Boys!” Conner shouted. “Do not go in the woods! Stay near the house! They’re not going to listen, are they?”

“Conner,” she said on a breath. “How did you find this place?”

“It’s Jack’s—he owns the bar in town. Now listen—see these shrubs that surround the place? Lilac and hydrangea and a bunch of stuff, but you also have blackberries, which you can pick and eat when they’re ripe, according to Jack, but remember that bear also happen to like them…”

Her eyes widened. “Boys! Come here! Right now!”

“We’ll go over the bear rules,” Conner said. “You’ll also have deer from time to time, and you want to learn those rules, too, because if you have bucks in rut, you really don’t want to be involved. Does and fawns, not a big worry—they’ll probably just run off if you happen upon them, but a mating buck might take the interference personally, if you get my drift.”

“What man wouldn’t?” she muttered. “How long do you give the boys before they’re lost in the woods?”

“You’re going to have to stay on top of that. Listen, if you don’t feel comfortable out here…”

“So far, I love it. Can we check out the inside?”

“It’s not locked. Help yourself. According to Jack, this place has quite a history—his wife lived here before they got married and moved into a larger house. Their first child was born here. Then others lived here—the most recent being the town doctor. We just finished his house and got him moved. We barely put up fresh paint in here…”

She stopped and turned to look up at her brother before she reached the porch. “Conner, I love it. I love Leslie. I think I’m going to love the town—but you do understand, I have to find the boys something permanent with the right schools, sports, all that…”

“I know. I know. But can you just get your bearings? Take at least a few weeks to get to know the area?”

She could do that. After Disney World and a long coast-to-coast move, she was more than ready to take a break. She had to get her life in order, get the boys set up, find a job that she really saw herself staying in for a long time. The boys would be starting first grade in the fall. She’d love to be nested by then. Here? Nearby?

The inside of the cabin was as perfect for her as the outside had been—two bedrooms separated by a bath downstairs, a loft upstairs and the rest of the downstairs space was a living room/kitchen just the right size for a single mom and two little boys. “There seems to be one important item missing,” she said to her brother. “Where’s the TV?”

“I guess it went with the doc to his new house. But Jack said you have satellite out here, so we’ll fix you up. We’ll make a run to a bigger town on the weekend, get a TV.”

“It’s either that or take them off Xbox and Wii cold-turkey, and I might not be up to that.”

“What did we have as kids?” Conner asked. “Did we have all this electronic stuff?”

“Atari and Nintendo,” she told him. “And immediately following that, I think we went to work in the store. By the way, is there a hardware store around here?”

“On the coast, Fortuna and Eureka. And that has inspired some thought.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been thinking this place could use one. Maybe somewhere between here and the closer small towns, like Grace Valley, Clear River. Paul could use one—he’s getting most of his stuff shipped in from a wholesaler. It wouldn’t be like the last store—there aren’t enough custom jobs around here to support it, but folks around here have to drive a long way for nails and paint.”

She put her fingers on her temples. “Okay, don’t give me too much to think about yet,” she said. “Just help me get my stuff inside and go to work unpacking. I’ll get settled and meet you in town for dinner.”

While Conner brought in the boxes she had shipped, she wrangled the suitcases. She found someone had put staples in the refrigerator and cupboard—milk, cereal, bread, lunch meat, eggs. “Les,” Conner said. “She thinks of everything.”

Conner went over a few details—no food or garbage left outside to tempt bears, there was bear repellant in the high cupboard above the microwave and a fire extinguisher under the sink. If you leave a pie cooling in the window sill, don’t count on it to be there later. And no wandering in the woods—it was way too easy to get lost if you didn’t know your way.

“This bear thing sounds serious,” Katie said.

“Jack said he heard Doc Michaels saw one bear, one time in two years. And Jack has seen more than that at his house. They’re all over the place, and mostly run off at the sight of a human, but no point in taking chances. You’ll have to talk to the boys about that, supervise if they’re playing outside and get them inside if you see one.”

“How many people have been attacked?” she asked.

“Jack said in the eight years he’s been here, zero. But still, keep an eye out.”

When you travel with only the essentials, it doesn’t take long to settle in. Her keepsakes of Charlie’s medals and their family pictures went in the trunk that served as a coffee table—the boys liked to look at them sometimes. Clothes went in drawers and closets and toys in the loft. The boys wanted Xbox hooked up immediately, though they seemed not to notice there was no TV until she pointed that out. So after lunch, the three of them threw a ball for a while in the clearing, then they kicked a soccer ball for a while, then the boys had a little quiet time with their videos and the portable DVD player.

And Katie had her own respite on the porch. It was miraculous, being surrounded by nothing but nature. The sounds of the forest—a variety of birds, rustling, the occasional caw or quack—lulled her and she let her eyes close. No growling, she observed.

Burlington had been so much quieter than Sacramento, but this—this was almost the wilderness. Having been raised in a city, Katie had no idea why the pristine and barely populated parts of the country held such appeal for her. She really hoped to take the boys to visit all those national wonders when they got a little older—Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Big Sur. Katie and Conner’s parents had taken them to Yosemite when they were young and she never wanted to leave. Conner had looked up the face of El Capitan at the climbers and nearly passed out. He could barely stand on a ladder, heights made him so woozy, but Katie wouldn’t mind learning rock climbing. The idea of scaling El Capitan had thrilled her. She had looked up that sheer rock at the climbers who spent the night in sleeping bags suspended from stakes pounded into the flat face of the rock and had envied them.

Even though she was a small girl, she was the athlete in the family and had planned a life of running a girls’ gym in a school, that’s what she’d studied. She had a degree in Phys Ed. Nothing could make her happier than going to work every day in a pair of shorts and sneakers with a whistle around her neck.

But she hadn’t done any of these things. Instead she’d buried both parents, finished college, helped run the store, married a Green Beret and had twin boys—kind of a full plate.

By four o’clock, not only was her little cabin in the woods in perfect order, her boys were in good moods because they’d had some downtime. She’d had some quiet herself and was giving serious thought to never buying a TV. Freshly showered and ready for dinner, she loaded the boys into the SUV and headed for her brother’s. Leslie wasn’t home from work yet, so Conner jumped in Katie’s car and they drove the two blocks to Jack’s. When she pulled up beside a neat little row of motorcycles she said, “Well, look at that, Conner. You’re going to meet our motorcycle gang.”

Three

It was a whole new scene at the bar now that Preacher knew Walt and his gang were in town. Walt planned on having every evening meal with Preacher and Preacher was clearly showing off. The cook was in the bar as opposed to the kitchen, which was not typical. “Tonight my best of show—stuffed trout. Trout’s fresh—at least what you’re getting is fresh. Me and Jack stood in the river this morning, reeling it in. Rice and cornbread stuffing, squash, onion and pepper side from Jilly Farms… You probably don’t know about Jilly Farms—she grows organic heirloom fruits and vegetables and her sister, a chef, cans a lot and makes up special sauces and bisques, which I’m willing to take off her hands—the flavor of these vegetables is beyond good.”

“Bring it on!” Walt said, causing his pals to laugh. “Can’t wait to hear about tomorrow night. What are the chances you’ll have some of that seafood bouillabaisse again while I’m in town?”

“Aw, sorry man—not unless lobster tail and scallops go on special at Costco. Otherwise it’s just too high dollar for this camp.”

“I’ll get it,” Walt said, with a fist on the bar. “How much do you need?”

Preacher looked startled. “If you’re serious, it takes a lot to make it right. A case of each, fresh not frozen. And ask how long it’s been on ice. Sniff it—I want you to smell the meat, not bottom of a boat or shipping crates. Can you do that?”

“I can do that,” Walt said. “This is an exceptional nose. I’ll make these old boys a map for their ride and head to Costco. If they don’t have what I need…”

“If they don’t have it fresh, go to the fish markets in Eureka—the closer to the marina the better.”

“Done!” Walt said. “You boys won’t mind too much, will you? You’ll get payback when you eat.”

“We’re good,” Dylan said with a laugh.

“How was today?” Jack asked. “You had sun.”

“Awesome. There are some back roads along the cliffs right on the ocean. Good ride. There are a million logging trucks out there. They take up the whole road and then blast their horn at us.”

“That’s just a friendly hello. Don’t you boys have loggers in Montana?”

“Our friends are mostly ranchers or loggers,” Lang said. “Cutting back on the logging a little these days, and we were growing dude ranches like clover for a while there, but when money gets tight, girly stuff like that tends to be in a decline, though there are still quite a few.”

“Easy,” Dylan said. “I think I’m a dude with a ranch.”

“You ranch, Dylan?” Jack asked.

“Depends on your perspective. I have chickens, some goats, a bull, six cows, two horses and a hand who’s been watching that property for years. He was old twenty years ago, so now he’s ancient. I don’t exactly—” He was about to say, “earn money,” but he was cut off when the door to the bar opened and a man, woman and set of five-year-old twins came in. He watched as she took them in, all smiles. Then she took the hand of the man she was with and led him to the bar, to Walt first.

“Conner, this is Walt, and he changed my tire the other day.”

Whoa boy, Dylan thought. This little girl cleaned up nice. She had the look of a drowned Chihuahua when he met her, but here she was all fluffed and buffed and sexy as hell. He grinned stupidly.

Walt turned on his stool and grasped the man’s hand. “Well, good to see you again. We met the last time I passed through. Yes, the miss here had herself an impressive flat. She was determined she was gonna change it if she could just get past the lugs.”

Conner laughed and shook his hand. “Katie can change a tire—but the lugs always give her trouble. To tell the truth, they give me trouble.”

“And, Conner,” she said, moving to stand beside Dylan. “This is Dylan. He also helped. I didn’t meet the others.”

Conner shook his hand, thanked him, and then Dylan introduced Lang and Stu. While Conner stood having conversation about the rides with Walt and the boys, Katie didn’t move away. Of course he was at one end of their foursome while Walt was at the other, but still. She was right there beside him.

“The husband?” he asked rather quietly.

“No,” she returned just as quietly, acting secretive, but she was mocking him. “The brother. Uncle Conner.”

“Ah,” he said. He took a drink of his beer. “Divorced?” he asked.

She leaned toward him. “No. Widowed.”

That clearly surprised him. “I guess you need to be near your brother…” he speculated.

“Well, the boys do,” she said. “Despite Conner’s insistence to the contrary, I’m pretty self-sufficient. But you know big brothers…”

“Hmm,” he said, as if he did. His big brother was in prison; his big sister was following in their mother’s footsteps with lots of scandal and unsuccessful relationships.

And then Jack was there. Jack seemed to be everywhere. “How’s that cabin working out for you, Katie?”

She lit up. Her eyes got so big, so bright. “Jack, it’s wonderful! Conner told me some of the history—your wife lived there? Your son was born there?”

“It was provided to Mel for the first year of her service to the town as the midwife. We lived in the cabin while I was building our house and David showed up—kind of fast, during a thunderstorm. We bought the place, just to have a little extra space around here for…well, for things like this,” he finished, with a smile.

“So, just how bad is the bear situation?” she wanted to know.

“Not significant, but they’re there.”

“If you say they’re more afraid of me than I am of them…”

Jack laughed. “As long as you don’t get between a mother and her cub, it’s a true statement.”

“So, you Virgin River people have sissy bears?”

“Scavenger sissy bears,” Jack said. “Keep the garbage inside and drive it to the Dumpster in town. If you’re scared…”

She scoffed. “I’m not scared. I love the cabin. It’s perfect. I’m going to have to run into one of the bigger towns to buy a TV, however. My boys have an Xbox. But I love the loft—a perfect place for it. It’s fantastic to put them up there with their noise.”

“They won’t make it without TV?” Dylan asked. And he was remembering when Adele refused to have a TV in the house, but of course her reasons were different. Dylan had been addicted to TV, to the news, celebrity gossip, sitcoms and series he’d been competing with. She was trying to get him off all his drugs.

“They might,” she said with a laugh, “but will I? I need a whip and a chair for those two.”

He glanced at the boys, already staking out a table, sitting on opposite sides and throwing packets of sugar at each other. “Gee. They look so well behaved…”

She just laughed and said, “Nice running into you, Dylan.”

“Wait a sec,” he said, catching the sleeve of her blouse to detain her. “So are you buried in the woods?”

“Sort of,” she answered. “But I’m only about ten minutes out of town in this picture-perfect little clearing surrounded by flowers and blackberry bushes in a cute little cottage… It was way more than I hoped for. Excuse me, I’d better pick up the sugar packets…”

And she was gone across the room.

And wow, he thought. With her hair down and dry, she was such a fox. While he sat and watched, her brother introduced her to person after person. A woman came into the bar and sat with Katie and the boys; Jack took the newcomer a glass of wine without asking for her order. Dylan supposed it was like that around here, Jack knowing what everyone wanted. Then he spoke to Katie and fetched her one, as well.

Once their mother was sitting with them there was very little funny business from the twins because they didn’t get away with anything—she seemed to have eight arms. She grabbed the packets, confiscated the ketchup bottle, removed the straws, pulled one back into his chair while she caught another by the wrist before he spilled his water. What she did even more easily was laugh with her friend. Sister-in-law? While Conner was BSing at the bar with men who came in and one by one introducing them to his sister, the girls were laughing and keeping the sugar packets in the container on the table.

“Where’s Preacher? Get him out here!” Walt said. “This is unbelievable—this trout is amazing! The man is a genius!”

Dylan looked at his plate and saw that he’d been eating, but it hadn’t even registered. “Excellent,” he finally said. He took another bite. “Really excellent.”

While the little boys had child-size hamburgers, Katie and her friend had the trout and made a very big deal about it with a lot of eyeball rolling, fanning their faces and letting their eyes fall closed as they hummed in ecstasy. Katie tried to coax a little fish into her son’s mouth, but he shook his head and resisted, which made the women laugh.

She positively sparkled. But he wasn’t interested in sparkle right now—he had too much on his mind. His business, his company, was in trouble and the only thing that mattered right now was coming up with a solution to their financial crisis. Besides, even though he was a world-class flirt, he was not attracted to young mothers. He was never tempted to get involved with a woman who had kids. He’d grown up around that—yours, mine and ours—and it might’ve worked in the movies, but it didn’t work in real life.

But when Jack brought him a cup of coffee he asked, “How long are you renting that little cabin for?”

Jack gave a small smile. “At least a couple of weeks, but probably the whole summer. There’s no waiting list. Why? You interested?”

“Maybe,” Dylan said. “Like sometime in the future…if I get back down this way…”

“Really?” Jack asked. He shifted his eyes toward Katie and said, “I thought maybe you were interested right now.”

With the enthusiasm Walt poured over Preacher’s dinners, Dylan might’ve wondered if he had been more influenced by the food than their routes. But he had to admit, the riding around here was awesome. And it wasn’t an original idea; they passed and followed a number of groups of riders while they were on the narrow mountain roads, the edgy cliff roads, beachfront, the dark paths through the redwood groves, the sunny hilltop ranch roads and the vineyards.

They stopped along the road to help bikers who had problems; Walt handed out a lot of business cards. None of his cards said President and CEO. They all said Harley-Davidson Sales and Maintenance. He drew attention away from himself. There really was a lot more to Walt than met the eye. Walt was an extremely successful businessman. Because of the look Walt presented, that of social outcast living hand to mouth, it was hard to imagine the amount of business acumen buried beneath that shaggy beard that would lead him to own five dealerships and build a small fortune. But he had.

“You have to remember, while the economy and fuel prices worked against you, they work in my favor,” Walt told the Childress Aviation contingent. “Motorcycles—fuel efficient—and sold in a moderate climate where there are very few days of the year they can’t be ridden.”

“Yeah, we couldn’t get away with that in Payne,” Dylan said.

The four bikers sat on a ridge in Mendocino County that overlooked vineyards and the ocean. Their bikes were propped up on stands, and they were in various positions of repose with big submarine sandwiches and cans of cola.

“I get that,” Walt said. “What’s up with the company, Dylan? Last time we rode together, you couldn’t shut up about it. This trip, you’re not talking in a real obvious way.”

Dylan took a long drink of his soda and lifted his head. “Sales are way down,” he said. “In this economy, not only is fuel too expensive to run a cost-effective flying operation, but people don’t hire charters as often. They fly their executives commercial. Coach. We’re not profitable—we’re barely above the red line.”

It was quiet for a minute.

“Bummer,” Walt said.

“We’re probably going to have to downsize. We’re going to have to give up the BBJ.”

“Oh, no!” Stu wailed. “Not the BBJ!”

That made Dylan smile. As a mechanic, Stu so loved that BBJ.

“What’s a BBJ?” Walt asked.

“A Boeing Business Jet—737 configured for luxury business travel. Instead of 120 passengers, more like 60. Perfect for a sports team, a group of executives, a rock band. We’ve been leasing it.”

“It’s sweet,” Stu said mournfully.

“We managed without her for a long time,” Dylan said. “And we talked about this before—that’s a damned expensive jet for a small company.”

“I don’t know if this’ll help,” Walt said. “My dad is real successful in lots of different businesses and one thing he taught me—always have an exit strategy. Just in case your current plan doesn’t work, always know what your endgame is and where you’re going next.”

“What’s your exit strategy?” Dylan asked.

“That’s part B of the plan,” Walt said. “My plan probably won’t work for anyone but me—but I never put all my eggs in one basket. I invested outside my franchises as well as in them, so I’d have a little nest egg in a worst-case scenario. The idea of being a president and CEO doesn’t mean anything to me—the only thing I’ve ever cared about are the people and the bikes. So with a little nest egg as a cushion, I can be real happy as a wrench. It’s what I’m best at anyway.” Walt took a long pull on his soda. “You just have to be clear about what drives you.”

“I like to fly. I like living in Payne. I don’t know what else there is.”

“I’m a different animal, Dylan. As long as I have my little house, my bike, my parents in good health, my brothers on my nerves and Cassie in my bed, I have just about everything I need. I can always find work. It wouldn’t be high dollar work, but it would be honest work.” His cell phone twittered and he pulled it out of his vest pocket. “Speak of the devil,” he said, grinning like a fourth grader. “Hey, baby…” Then he walked away from his group to have a private conversation.

And after all that baring of souls, all Stu had to say was, “God, I’d hate to lose that BBJ. She’s sweet!”

The afternoon ride was not only beautiful, but silent. That part was typical as bikers didn’t have conversations when they wound noisily around the mountain curves and broke single file for logging trucks. They ended their day as they had the three days before—at Jack’s.

“Has Preacher got the bouillabaisse going?” Walt wanted to know, because he’d been to the marina and delivered the seafood components.

“I think you’ll be satisfied,” Jack said. “I’ve been helping and I’m satisfied.”

“And how do you help?” Dylan asked.

“Every so often I wander back there, scoop out a little and let him know how he’s doing.”

They all laughed. Jack served up a couple of beers, a cup of coffee for Walt and a cola for Lang. By now, given the end of their fourth day in town, when people stopped by the bar, they wanted to know what the bikers had seen that day. And the men were more than happy to describe their ride, the views, the little towns they rode through, the other riders they ran into and sometimes rode with for a while.

They raved about the stew, had some coffee and dessert, and eventually said their goodbyes because they were heading out in the morning. There was a lot of handshaking all around. Preacher came out of the kitchen where he and Walt grasped fists and pulled each other shoulder to shoulder like brothers.

“You come back,” Preacher said.

“Absolutely,” Walt promised. “And you know how to reach me if you ever feel like a trip to the valley. I have some places I’d love to take you for dinner.”

And then they retired to the cabins.

When they got there they found Luke was just stirring up a fire in a shallow pit in front of his porch and it was natural to wander down that way. Luke’s wife, Shelby, sat in a chair on the porch and their handyman, Art, was beside her. Luke welcomed them all to join them and before long Walt had himself a chair by the fire while Lang, Stu and Dylan stood around with Luke. They talked about nothing in particular—weather, fishing, the long ride back to Montana. Little by little they broke up—Shelby went inside, Art retired to his cabin, Walt decided to turn in. And finally Luke indicated a bucket of sand.

“I’m calling it a day, boys. When you’re done with the fire, bury it. We’re coming up on fire season.”

“You bet,” Dylan said. “If we don’t see you in the morning…”

“I’m up early,” he said. “Knock before you go. It’s been a real pleasure.”

And then they were left, the Childress Aviation management, sitting on the porch steps in front of a small fire. A few moments of quiet passed before Lang asked, “So…this is really it for the company, huh?”

“Not necessarily. We’re definitely gonna have to lose the BBJ,” Dylan said, “but that should give us six months to figure out the next move. Either we find some charters for the Bonanzas and the Lear to keep us going or, the next step is, alternate work plans. We have a snowplow for the runway—maybe we start a little plowing business in the winter.”

Lang laughed. “I’ve been using that plow on my road anyway.”

“If you two can manage to find Montana on your own, I want to spend a little more time in California,” Dylan said. “I’m going to check out the smaller airports around here, see if there’s any work for our charters, any interest in a partnership. We have some things in common—charters into the mountains and isolated hunting and fishing locations. And also…” He paused. “I’m considering another idea. Sometimes over the years I’d hear from an old friend of mine, a producer, that he’d like to do a movie, if I had any interest. Jay Romney—he’s one of the good guys. I should listen to his ideas. It could keep us in business.”

“Make a movie?” Stu asked, suddenly interested.

Dylan lifted a corner of his mouth in a half smile. “I’ve made a couple of movies. And had that long-running sitcom as a kid.”

“Yeah, but make a movie now?” Stu asked.

“I could,” he said. “If the terms are right.”

“Would actresses be involved?” Stu asked.

Dylan laughed and Lang gave Stu a wallop to the back of the head.

“Hey! I’m just saying…”

“There would undoubtedly be actresses, but I have no idea what he has in mind. Could be a totally ridiculous sitcom reunion show of some kind, or it could be something else. But if there’s significant money, I should talk to him. Could buy Childress Aviation a couple of years and give the economy time to turn around.”

“I hate to think of you doing anything you hate,” Lang said. “Life’s too short.”

“What’s the big deal?” Stu asked. “Make a lot of money, date actresses, have some fun… Tell him I’ll do it.”

Lang and Dylan had been best friends since college, so Lang knew everything there was to know about Dylan’s childhood, but Stu didn’t.

“My experience as a child actor wasn’t good,” he said. “I thought it was at the time because I was spoiled and could have anything I wanted as long as I did the job I was paid to do because a lot of other jobs depended on it. But I was an ass. Every kid on that set was an ass and we were pure trouble—I’m sure people hated to deal with us. By the time I was thirteen my best friend, Roman, and I were fooling with liquor, pot and girls when we could get away with it, which was often. We pulled pranks, we busted up property, made off with cars we weren’t licensed to drive. I thought we were screwing around and having fun. We were cocky. Immune to failure. I didn’t really get that Roman was in over his head. He died of an overdose at the age of sixteen—he took a bunch of his mother’s pills and washed ’em down with rum, looking for a high. He had been my closest friend for a long time. We weren’t together the night he died. I was fifteen. The whole thing—it almost destroyed me.”

Stu was younger than Dylan and Lang and hadn’t been up to speed on the gossip surrounding Dylan’s Hollywood career. Plus, being a guy, he had no fascination with another guy’s antics. He merely whistled.

“My grandmother flew back to L.A. from London, took me to Roman’s funeral and got me out of Hollywood. She put her own career on hold and raised me in Payne until I went to college. She probably saved my life. So, going back to that lifestyle…”

“Yeah, but you’re not stupid anymore,” Stu said. “You’re older now.”

Dylan opened his mouth to speak, to explain that it was more complicated than that, that he had an entire family there in various levels of fame and infamy, from his half sister’s chronic problems with drugs to his half brother’s long running habit of trashing hotel rooms in which porn stars or hookers always seemed to be present. One stepsister was in drug treatment and a stepbrother in jail for dealing. And that was not to mention his mother, who he considered the worst of all. But before he could say any more, Lang put a firm hand on his shoulder and, in the dark, gave his head the smallest shake.

Don’t bother, he was saying. “All Stu wants is a girl to spend the night with. He’s not going to understand any of this.”

“Right,” Dylan said. “So I’ll get in touch with Jay and find out if this is just a lot of talk or if there’s real interest with a contract and money attached. And if it’s a way to keep us afloat a couple of years, I’ll consider it.”

Stu grinned hugely and stood up. “Call if you need backup on that movie or at some Hollywood parties!”

“You’ll be the first,” Dylan said drily.

And Stu ambled off to his cabin.

It was quiet around the fire for a minute before Lang said, “You probably should’ve told him you’re not keeping the BBJ, even if you get an Oscar.”

Dylan laughed.

“Don’t do this unless it really feels right,” Lang said. “Don’t do it for me. I can always manage, you know that.”

“Yeah? You have a wife and five kids.”

“Five brilliant kids. I’ll rent ’em out. Sell ’em to the circus.”

Dylan laughed with a shaking of his head. Lang and Sue Ann were the most devoted and conscientious parents Dylan had ever known.

“Seriously.”

“Yeah, trust me—I’m not stupid anymore,” he said, echoing Stu. “I’m older now.” And then with a touch of solemnity he said, “Trust me. I take this very seriously. Jay Romney’s a decent guy or I wouldn’t even talk to him.”

Lang stood up. “Do what you want, I’ve always got your back. But I’m with Walt—it doesn’t take that much to keep me happy and working. I’d be happy to run that snowplow around town until Childress Aviation gets on its feet again. I’m better at driving a snowplow than running a company anyway.”

Dylan stood and put out his hand. “Thanks, Lang. Can you manage without me while I stay behind?”

“You have to ask?”

“This is your chance to file a complaint with management.”

Lang just gave a snort of laughter. “You going to bed?” Lang asked.

“I might sit here awhile.”

“Kill the fire,” Lang reminded him. “See you in the morning. I expect a good send-off.”

Four

Katie laughed at what seemed like a perfect life shaping up. She’d had a great dinner with her brother last night—burgers on the grill with Leslie. She took her boys to the new Virgin River school, introduced them to Miss Timm, the teacher, and signed them up for the summer camp program. They needed at least one program to keep them busy, and to keep them from becoming bear food. She couldn’t watch them every second. Then she went back to her enchanted cabin in the woods and installed the newly purchased TV in the loft, hooking it up to the satellite dish. Then she changed her oil.

How sexy, she thought. Well, after a major trip, that was a good idea, and these were the kinds of things it was always hard to find time for. When she’d finished and used a cone to pour the oil into an empty plastic milk container for discarding, she relaxed on her porch with a soda. She drank it out of the can and put her feet up on the porch rail. A small shaft of sunlight on the porch warmed her bare legs; it was nice to finally be in shorts again. Summer in the mountains would be so much more comfortable than the hot, steamy summers of Sacramento had been.

The hood of the SUV was still up, the jug of oil sitting next to the oil-coated pan on the ground and she thought, I am seriously demented, because I consider this a flawless life. Time for everything. No rush. Someone else watching the boys for a while. Isolated in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of nature. In fact, if it hadn’t been marred by the growl of an engine, she would think she was in the Garden of Eden.

And then he drove his motorcycle right into her yard.

She didn’t move a muscle, but took a drink of her cola as he, hidden behind the dark visor of his helmet, revved his engine a couple of times.

Then he shut down and got off the bike, dragging off the helmet. She gave herself a lot of credit for not sharply inhaling at the shock of his good looks. He swaggered toward her, peeling off his gloves. He had that swagger thing down; it was probably due to the constriction of the tight jeans around his hips. She took another slow slug of the soda. “Lost?” she finally asked.

“Just checking out the back roads,” he answered. “Car trouble?”

“Nope. Everything’s fine.”

“You usually park with the hood up like that?”

“I just changed the oil,” she informed him. “Lots of miles on that car in the last few months. I just moved here from Vermont.”

He grinned at her and touched his cheek, indicating the oil on hers. “You might’a got a little on you, there.”

“Yeah?” she asked, returning the grin. “I’ll clean up later. I thought you left. I heard the gang pulled outta town.”

“The boys left,” he said, slapping his gloves into the palm of his hand and looking around her clearing. “I’m hanging out for a couple of days. Taking a closer look at this place. Interesting area.”

“Don’t you have a job?” she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“Right now this is my job,” he answered. “Don’t you have a job?”

She gave him that one, laughing. “Besides mothering five-year-old boys? Not yet,” she said, finally taking her feet off the rail and standing up. She tugged on her shorts; they’d been riding up. “Want a Coke?”

“Why not.” He shrugged.

“Can okay?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She disappeared into the cabin and was back in seconds with a cold can. She handed it to him and he studied it briefly. “Diet,” he finally said.

“Well, if I sat on a vibrating machine all day, I probably wouldn’t have to watch my weight, either. By the way, who pays you to do that? I might be interested in that job.”

He came up on the porch and casually took the second chair, propping his feet up on the rail as hers had been. He wore leather pointy-toed cowboy boots; she wore old beat-up tennis shoes with a little oil on them.

“I probably wasn’t clear. The bike was recreation while I was riding with my friends but it’s now transportation—I’m here on business.” He popped the top on the can and took a drink. He made a face.

She returned to her seat, put her feet back on the rail. “What kind of business?”

“Well…my friends and I have a small air charter operation in Montana. Very small. A little airport in the middle of a bunch of national parks, great hunting grounds and dude ranches that aren’t doing such a great business right now. People are a little too hard up for fancy vacations. So I’m checking out the area fixed base operations to see if there’s any opportunity around here.”

She sat up a little. “Really? You fly?”

He gave a nod. “I fly. Our airport is a long way from the big airports, so, sometimes people need a puddle jumper. Or a charter to a lodge or something.”

Genuinely interested, she turned and faced him. “Fun,” she said, smiling. “I’d love to do that. Fly planes. Or jump out of them. Fun.”

“Why don’t you?” he asked. Because it never occurred to Dylan that you didn’t pursue any old thing that came to mind.

She laughed indulgently. “Oh, gosh, a little busy, I guess. And my line of work never left a lot of disposable income for extras, like learning to fly or skydive or mountain climbing or…or a lot of things.”

“What line of work is that?” he asked, completely interested.

“Hmm,” she said, taking a drink of her soda. “Well, my dad owned a hardware store, in which I was working on Saturdays by the time I was eleven. By the time I was twenty and had a couple of years of college under my belt, both my parents were gone, and Conner and I were struggling to run the store. He made sure I stayed in school, but I worked as hard in that store as he did until I got married and moved away.”

“In a hardware store?” he asked. Then he gave a little laugh. “She changes tires and changes oil…”

“I do a lot of things. When the boys came along, Conner stuck me with paperwork. I was happier in the store, building things, helping customers learn how to build and repair things, but you know—a person can only do so much.” She whistled and shook her head. “Twins. Couldn’t be twin girls, right? I’m probably better off with boys, given that I enjoy team sports a lot more than things like ballet and origami.”

He looked into her eyes. “You were kind of busy, I guess.”

“I lost Charlie right before they were born,” she said. “If not for Conner, I don’t know what I would’ve done, so when he gets all big brother on me, I let it go. But from twenty-one to twenty-six I worked full-time in that store. I worked as hard as Conner and I did as much, too. I wasn’t some girlie girl who could only do the books. I trained to be a phys ed teacher, but we had a commitment to the store.”

Now, this business about losing Charlie, this brought Dylan upright. His feet came off the rail; he turned toward her, leaning his elbows on his knees and said, “If you don’t mind my asking about Charlie…”

“He was army. He was deployed, I was pregnant, he was killed on a mission, the details of which I’ll never know, and the boys never knew him. But I have medals and pictures and I try to be sure they know about their dad. He was a great guy. He was a hero. When they’re older, they’ll be proud of him.”

Dylan nearly blanched. The closest he would ever come to being that kind of hero would be playing one in a movie. “Army widow,” he said for lack of anything intelligent.

“Army widow.”

He cleared his throat. “And you can do all the guy chores because…”

She looked at him with dead seriousness. “My dad taught Conner and I all the mechanical and maintenance stuff. He was so proud of that—that he didn’t cut me out of the loop. That store was to be in the family for as long as we wanted it to be. And it was to be as much mine as Conner’s. You don’t get a bigger cut for being a boy.” Then she laughed and said, “My mother did none of that stuff, by the way. She was old-fashioned and not very stylish. She cooked and cleaned and tended kids. She could never have been a soccer or softball coach and I might’ve been such a disappointment to her—I pitched girl’s softball rather than sewing or learning to bake. But when I was fourteen she said, ‘Katie, never underestimate the power of red lipstick.’ From that point on I knew when their anniversary was because they went out to dinner alone and she put on the red lipstick.” And she laughed. “My parents were pretty boring,” she added. “But they were in love in their own way. I mean, come on,” she said with a lift of a brow. “Red lipstick! Priceless, right?”

Dylan was transfixed by the smile, the laughter. How did she do that? Talk about dead people, people who had ultimately let her down, even though not by choice, and laugh with such beauty? He wanted that mouth....

“What?” she asked, studying his expression.

“That must have been hard. Losing your parents when you were young.”

She sat forward and her expression became serious. “Everyone I lost, I lost young,” she said.

He was quiet for a minute and then said, “We have that in common.”

She relaxed back in her chair, waiting.

“My dad died in a car crash when I was twelve. My best friend when I was fifteen.”

“Wow. I’m sorry. I should’ve known there was something that linked us. We kind of connected the first time we looked at each other.”

Suddenly his grin was enormous and his eyes twinkled and she remembered the wet T-shirt display when his eyes dipped to her chest, which was such an ordinary chest.

“You’re a dog,” she said.

“I am a dog,” he admitted, smiling. “So, your husband was lost five years ago or so, yet you didn’t get married again? It wouldn’t have taken my mom that long.”

She shrugged and studied her cola can.

“Oh-oh,” he said. “I smell a broken heart.”

She looked up suddenly. “Me? Oh, God, no. A slightly disappointed heart, maybe. I haven’t even dated much since Charlie died. I was just starting to get interested again when…I guess I just lost that old knack for knowing what to look for in a guy. Besides, I’m happy with my life—my family.”

Dylan was quiet for a second. “My grandmother said I made my dad more perfect every day after he was gone. Did you—?”

She shook her head. “I don’t do that. I remember every one of his faults even though I loved him like mad. But the last guy I was optimistic about was talking about marriage and family, and he never even kissed me.” She briefly considered the details of that experience and decided not to share too much. “That should’ve tipped me off, right? Think maybe he forgot? That’s when I decided to count my blessings. I’ll stick with the men I have in my life and call it a day.” When he looked a little confused she added, “The boys and Uncle Conner.”

Dylan cocked his head. “Is that right? Dated you and didn’t kiss you? What did he date you for?”

“Well, I’m a very good cook, even though that never interested me as a girl. And I can keep small appliances running…”

“Wow,” he said facetiously. “Every man’s dream.”

She smiled at him and asked, “Are you married?”

“No,” he said on a laugh. “No-ho-ho. I am not the marrying kind, trust me.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Very simple. I come from a family that has a very bad track record.”

“But your father died,” she said.

“Oh, my parents had both been divorced and remarried by then. More than once.”

“Oh. Gee, that’s too bad. My brother, Conner, and I have each had one marriage on the record—he’s divorced. But we don’t have commitment issues. Just the opposite. And Charlie…Charlie was a soldier and his commitment was his life. His commitment to me was…” She stopped and slanted a look at Dylan. “This is surreal,” she said. “Sitting here talking to a perfect stranger about love and marriage and commitment issues. You haven’t even told me your last name.”

“Childress,” he said, watching her for a reaction. There wasn’t one. He drained his cola and tapped the empty can. “Where should I pitch this?”

“Just leave it,” she said. “I’ll take it inside.”

He put the can down beside his chair and stood. “Thanks for the soda, Katie Malone. I’d better get back to work.”

She laughed at him. “By all means. And if that job has any openings…”

Katie stayed in her chair, feet propped, watching him don gloves and helmet, mount, wrangle that big bike off the stand, rev the engine and turn out of the clearing. She had to smile to herself as she heard him rumble away, the engine noise diminishing as his distance grew. How had he managed to stumble on her little hideaway?

Then she heard another motorcycle coming down the road, getting closer and closer until—

He turned back into the clearing and drove his bike right up to the porch. Then he turned off the motor and used his long legs on either side of the bike to prop it up on the stand. He slowly dismounted, removing his helmet and gloves, leaving them on the bike seat.

“So? Back for another soda? More conversation?” she asked.

He had an odd look on his face as he approached her, smiling a little as he took those two steps up to the porch. It was the strange look that brought her to her feet.

He slipped his arm around her waist so stealthily, she never saw it coming. Then he didn’t so much draw her against him as snapped her against him with that one arm, which put their faces close enough to feel each other’s warm breath. And his, she noted, was a little rapid. She felt his pounding heart against her breast.

His eyes were close enough so that the startling blue appeared in mere glittering slits, buried beneath the thick lashes. Her eyes were wide, on the other hand. Her mouth open, startled. “I just wanted to be clear,” he said in a hoarse, whisper. “I wouldn’t have forgotten.”

And then he crashed down on her mouth.

Katie was startled somewhere between pain and a pleasure so remarkable, she wasn’t sure how to respond. There was a taste in him that verged on desperate, something that felt so much more welcome than nice-but-dull. Her inner voice said, This will probably be the only kiss you ever get from him. And with that thought, her hands slid slowly up his arms to his shoulders, shoulders so hard and inviting. But it was the mouth that sent her reeling, his soft lips, his tongue, tentative and cautious before becoming demanding. She joined the tongue play, trying to remember when she’d participated in a kiss like this, and failing.

And thank God it wasn’t quick. No, this guy wasn’t a tease, he was the real deal. He threaded his fingers up the back of her neck and into her hair until he palmed her head. He tilted her right, then left, changing their slant and deepening the kiss. And she found her own fingers on the back of his neck, in his long hair, pulling him closer, bringing him harder against her. If his mouth wasn’t intoxicating enough, that long, hard body against hers was certainly brain-numbing. Her senses became so sharp while her thinking was dull and all she wanted was to do this for a long, long time. She was tasting him, hearing his raspy and rapid breathing, inhaling that musk that contained some unidentifiable component she wasn’t familiar with… Was that motor oil? Nature? Pheromones? Lust?

He pulled away from her lips, continuing to hold her close. “Well, that opened your eyes, Katie Malone.”

“It usually does,” she said weakly.

“I thought I heard you complain about being forgotten in the kiss department,” he said. “I felt a little sorry for you. Wanted to be sure that was taken care of.”

“Oh, I get it. I’m supposed to thank you now,” she said.

He just chuckled and released her, jumping off the porch and heading for his bike, which was only two feet away.

“You’re kind of an arrogant ass, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Depends on who you ask,” he said with a devilish grin, mounting the bike and getting the hell out of there. Fast. In fact, he popped a wheelie. Show-off stud.

When he was riding down the drive, she collapsed into the chair. “Well, if you ask me,” she muttered to herself. And then she thought, I just Frenched a movie star.

Dylan rode hard and in some discomfort as he realized, well that was stupid. He’d acted on some lame instinct and now the only thing to do was get the hell out of her range as quickly as possible. He should never have tasted her.

Of course he’d been attracted to women before—many times. But he always calculated his moves and he never messed with young mothers. When Dylan felt a spark of interest in a female, he thought it through very carefully before he approached, touched, tempted, became tempted. One of the first things he considered was the window of opportunity, because he wasn’t interested in the long-term. There had to be an understanding and it had to be consensual. He restricted himself from Payne, Montana, residents, much to the disappointment of some. He hadn’t dated a girl from Payne since the high school prom; small towns could be harsh toward men who played the field with their women. And the closest he’d come to setting foot back in Hollywood was picking up a touring rock band in the BBJ.

He blamed Katie Malone’s boobs, large, luminous eyes and easy laughter. The boobs weren’t extraordinary. In fact they were kind of small, but they certainly spoke to him. Unforgettable, when you got right down to it. What was really strange was, Dylan saw pretty breasts everywhere, but his hands didn’t usually ache to touch. And how about the laugh—so natural and filled with fun. Then there was the fact that he hadn’t really impressed her that much—that turned him on. Then there was that petite figure with a nice little…

He forced himself to block any further thoughts of her body.

He couldn’t figure out what had turned him around on a back road and sent him hurtling like a rocket back to her front porch to kiss her. He didn’t understand why she responded to the kiss—hadn’t she more or less said she was done with all that? Concentrating on her family? And he was turned on beyond his own comprehension. He’d been turned on a hundred times, but not like this. He felt as if he’d better get a lot of miles between him and Katie Malone or face dire consequences. And he had no one to talk to about this. So he rode hard for the rest of the day, stopping off to visit a couple of small airports as he went.

That was one thing Hollywood would have to recommend it—girls. There were plenty of the kind who would put their careers ahead of any relationship, but they still liked to have a man around from time to time. Brief, impersonal, nonrisky hookups.

The thought left him feeling just as empty inside as ever.

He remembered when Lang found Sue Ann, a Prescott, Arizona, girl. They’d been in college there and Lang, being a good-looking guy, was a great one to go running with; he always attracted women. But then he met this girl, this pretty but not flashy girl who was full of confidence and just wouldn’t be played. And good old Lang took a dive. He glazed over, saw no one but Sue Ann and his days of running with Dylan were over.

And Dylan was grateful that hadn’t happened to him, because he was convinced he wasn’t good for the long haul. Not that he wanted it to be that way. It just was.

Dylan stopped off in a small town near the coast where there was a little fixed base operation. He went inside, introduced himself to the airport manager and asked if they had a charter operation or any aviation instruction. The story seemed to be the same everywhere—people were chartering less often, this particular airport was sending people interested in pilot instruction to other airports. Dylan learned there had once been a couple of instructors there as well as a charter pilot who operated a six-seater and had done a respectable business, until fuel prices soared and he moved on to other work. Now that airport offered storage, maintenance and fueling for a few private plane owners and the occasional inbound flight.

He had a lot more looking around to do, but that was enough for one day. Since he was in a good area, he took the opportunity to phone Jay Romney. He was a little surprised to find that Jay took his call even though his assistant warned Dylan that Jay was in the middle of a meeting.

“Dylan!” he boomed. “If you’re calling me, I’m optimistic! How can I help you?”

“You can tell me if you have any acting work that I qualify for.”

“What? You’re coming back?”

“Not exactly, but I’d consider taking a leave from my business in Montana for the right project. And let me save you some time—no silly TV reunions or game shows or commercials.”

“Can you tell me what you are looking for?” Jay asked. “Because there are a lot of projects under option.”

“I can’t,” he said, inwardly shrugging. “A movie. Something that resembles what I’ve done in the past, even though it’s been over twenty years. And above all, I want a good experience.”

Dylan still had a lot of family in Hollywood and, Dylan was all too aware, Jay wouldn’t have interrupted a meeting for any of them. “Maybe you have something you’re interested in that will make a break from aviation seem worthwhile,” Dylan told Jay.

“And why the break?” Jay asked.

“The charter business is down, given the economy,” he said honestly. “A little movie pocket change can help me making a living and suck up some of the boredom of waiting for things to turn around. That is, if you have anything. I’m not looking for a favor—I’m only looking for honest work.”

Jay Romney laughed. “I’d be happy to do you a favor, Dylan, but I won’t have to. You’re still a big name around here. I’ll be in touch soon.”

“I’m spending a little time in the mountains, Jay. My cell reception is spotty. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

“Good enough. And hey, nice talking to you. Give my regards to Adele.”

“Absolutely.”

As a kid, Dylan had been cast in an incredibly successful sitcom from the ages of eight to fifteen. He’d also done a couple of big movies, Disney features. His father had been a famous actor before his death when Dylan was twelve and his grandmother, Adele Childress, was still very much alive and working at the age of seventy-six. He was Adele’s only biological grandchild.

Back in Payne, once Dylan accepted there was no way out but to try it Adele’s way, he settled in. He first learned to ride a horse. Then he went camping with the old guy who managed the ranch and was still on their small property to this day. As time went on, Dylan took to driving to Helena and hung out at a small private airport, just watching the planes and gliders take off and land for hours. He talked someone into a ride in a little Cherokee and fell in love. He’d been looking for freedom for years and found it in the sky. He chewed the fat in the little tower and in the airport office and found out how the pilots there got in the business. And finally he screwed up the courage and told his grandmother he wanted to learn to fly, get his pilot’s license.

She said, “Talk to me when you bring home straight A’s and I like your chances.”

He’d never worked so hard, and that was the beginning of his new life. After high school he went to Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University in the mountains of Prescott, Arizona, and while logging flying and instructor hours, got himself a degree in aviation management. And that’s where he met Lang.

When he learned to fly, life really turned around for him. And here he was, considering going back to that insane movie life. But, at least this time he had a good reason.

There were more airports to visit and Jay would need at least a few days to come up with an idea that might put Dylan to work. And during those few days, Dylan thought he might have to see what could happen if he ran into Katie Malone again.

Five

Dylan hadn’t timed it, but he wasn’t entirely amazed by the coincidence. There seemed to be some invisible and unconscious forces drawing him to Katie Malone and when he got back to Virgin River, she was just coming out of the little prefab schoolhouse at the end of the street, a child on each side of her. She was walking toward her SUV when Dylan pulled right up to her. He cut the engine on the bike, though he stayed astride.

“I’m running into you all over the place,” he said to her.

“I’m not so sure you’re running into me,” she said. Then she pushed her boys off in the direction of her car, telling them to get in and buckle up.

“Totally by chance,” he said. “But I’m glad I did because I wanted to ask you something. Should I apologize for…you know…earlier?”

“Oh, please don’t,” she said, giving her head a shake. “That would make it seem like you regretted it. We are thinking of the same thing, right? The kiss on my porch?”

He nodded his head. “Oh, man, you’re going to get me in so much trouble…”

“Why?” she asked, stepping toward him. “You said you weren’t married. Oh, no, is there a girlfriend? A fiancée?”

“No…”

She grabbed a piece of his shirtsleeve and, lowering her voice slightly, asked, “Are you gay?”

“No! Jesus, did I seem gay?”

“I’m no judge of that,” she said.

“There’s no one,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just that…” He straightened and tightened his hands on the bike grips. It made him very nervous to pretend to be normal. “Listen, how’d you like to go out for ice cream?”

“I can’t,” she said. “I have the boys.”

“We’ll take them.”

“What are you going to do? Put me on the back of the bike with one under each arm?” she asked.

“Sounds like fun, but maybe we should just drive. You have a car.”

“Where?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Fortuna? It’s an adventure. What about it? You don’t have to recalibrate an engine or anything, do you?”

She made a face; it wasn’t unusual for people to tease her about her mechanical skills, especially men. “I suppose we could meet somewhere, if you had any idea where you wanted to go,” she said.

“How about if we really get crazy and go in one car?” he returned.

She looked at her watch. “I don’t know, Dylan. It might be a little too close to dinner to give them ice cream. I try to get a couple of nutrients in them before they pack on the sugar.”

He was stumped about what to do for a minute, looking at his own watch. “Well, how about pizza or burgers and then ice cream…?”

She frowned. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Katie! Stop making me work so hard!”

She laughed at him. “All right, park the bike and come with me.”

“I’ll drive,” he said, running his bike up alongside the school, turning it off and following her. And didn’t she get right in the driver’s side. He held the door for her and tried again, saying, “Come on, I’ll drive.”

“No, thank you,” she sweetly answered. And in a whisper, she added, “My car.”

He gritted his teeth into a smile and said, “I’m a pilot, let me drive.”

“No. Boys, this is Dylan. Do you remember Dylan? I don’t think you met him, but he helped change the flat tire. Dylan, jump in the car.” She smiled again. “Go ahead.”

With a grrrr under his breath, Dylan walked around the front of the car and got in the passenger side.

Katie twisted around and peered into the backseat. “This is Andy,” she said, pointing left, “and that’s Mitch behind you. Dylan suggested we go out for burgers or something and if you eat a nice dinner, there will be dessert.”

Dylan looked between the boys and Katie a couple of times. Without being asked she said, “You’ll figure it out.”

Dylan could not tell them apart. “There’s not even a stray freckle,” he said. “Seriously!”

“It’s subtle,” she said, putting the big SUV in Drive. Then she looked over at Dylan and said, “Seat belt.”

He did as he was told.

Even though Dylan had spent many hours with Lang and his family, often with kids aged two to ten climbing all over him, he still marveled at Katie’s ability to multitask. She drove that big SUV down the mountain with its winding roads while keeping her boys relatively manageable and trying to carry on a conversation with Dylan. It went something like this:

“Andy, seat belt stays on or I stop the car. So, Dylan, this is how you want to spend your time—by yourself in a town of six hundred, just riding around on your motorcycle? Mitch, window up, please. Huh, Dylan?”

It was kind of hard to know when to jump in with an answer. He gave the short one. “We don’t have any charters right now, so I thought I’d spend the time visiting local airports.”

“That must be a little uncertain on the pocketbook,” she said. And then she peered into the backseat and added, “Andy, if you don’t stop bouncing around, you won’t get ice cream. No, Mitch, I didn’t bring movies. Well, Dylan?”

“Sheesh,” he said, running a hand over his head. “We should’ve put harnesses on ’em and run ’em behind the car.” He turned to face into the backseat. “What did you do at school all day? Color? Nap?”

“It’s not school,” Mitch informed him.

“It’s summer program,” Andy explained. “So we don’t have to be really quiet or spell things.”

“It’s like babysitting,” Mitch said.

“And there’s some little kids who are like two!” Andy added with some disgust. “One of ’em bit another one today and everybody freaked out.”

“We definitely need a little more running and jumping in that program,” Katie muttered. “Well, Dylan? You didn’t answer me.”

He looked at her and, shaking his head, said, “I don’t remember the question!”

And she shot him a grin just as she reached one hand over the seat to snatch a plastic gun that made a very annoying racket out of Andy’s hand while she was maneuvering a curve in the road. “We’re not having that right now,” she said, bringing the weapon to the front seat and cradling it in her lap.

Dylan closed his eyes.

When they got to Fortuna, she was leaning over the steering wheel to look around as she drove and finally she said, “Aha! McDonald’s! You’ll thank me later.”

Dylan had no idea what she meant. They wandered in like a family of four, except that Katie took the lead and did the ordering for the three of them, getting her opened wallet in her hand. She looked over her shoulder and said, “Dylan? What would you like?”

He wasn’t having it. He nudged her aside with a hip, closed his hand over her open wallet to prevent her from pulling out her money, placed his order and paid the bill. “Thank you,” she said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I invited you,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, but I get the impression you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.”

It was pretty close to what he expected, but he didn’t share that. He’d had the McDonald’s experience a number of times, but they were his best friend’s kids. Never the kids of some woman who had him doing crazy things!

When their food came, Katie sat on one side of the booth, sandwiched between her boys while Dylan sat on the other side alone. While Dylan worked on his Big Mac and fries he watched with admiration as Katie managed her boys. When Andy laid out and aimed a ketchup packet toward Mitch, raising his fist high to bring it slamming down to fire on his brother, she caught his arm in midair while she was telling Mitch he had to eat at least half of his McNuggets to get dessert. When Mitch pulled a fistful of straws out of his pocket and began firing the paper covers into the air like rockets, she confiscated them while disarming Andy of more concealed ketchup packets. As she did these things, she kept them from blowing bubbles in their drinks, made sure they were eating and explained to Dylan how the town put together and assembled the schoolhouse—men taking time off from work and volunteering their services. And then…

“I have to pee.”

“Me, too.”

“Okay,” Katie said. “Let’s go.”

“Aww, I don’t wanna go in the girls’!”

“Please, I don’t wanna go in the girls’, either!”

“In public places, you cannot use restrooms without an adult you know with you,” Katie said calmly. “It’s a rule and it’s for safety.”

“So no one gets us,” Andy blurted, far too loudly.

“Well, if they’d had dinner with you, they wouldn’t want you, but still…”

“I’ll go,” Dylan said. He shrugged. “I need the restroom anyway. And I used to hate going in the girls’.”

“Sucks, huh?” Mitch asked.

“Anything special I should know?” he asked as he was sliding out of the booth. “Like, should I watch for cherry bombs in toilets?”

“Just watch for water sports,” she said. “Of all kinds.”

“Gotcha,” he said. “Come on.”

But they weren’t coming with him, they were way ahead of him, running through McDonald’s to the men’s room, slamming into said facility, so that he had to pick it up a notch to keep up with them. When he got into the bathroom, they were standing there, waiting. He just stared at them for a second. “I thought we had to pee,” he said. “Let’s do it.” And he held open a stall door because these guys were big for five-year-olds, but not quite tall enough for the urinals. “Seats up, please.”

And, being twins, they gathered around the same bowl together rather than taking separate stalls. He just shook his head and laughed.

Andy looked over his shoulder at Dylan. “You gonna watch?”

“S’cuse me,” Dylan said. He made his way to the urinal and prepared. In just seconds the toilet in the stall flushed and there were two little boys, one on each side of him, which went a long way to creating an embarrassed bladder. He lifted a brow and peered at them. “Are you? Gonna watch?”

And they nodded.

Dylan leaned a hand against the wall and kept his groan inside. He sought composure. Finally he peered at the one he thought was Andy. “Could I have a little space, please?”

Though he’d only spoken to one, they stepped back as they both got the message. Then turning as one, they bolted out of the lavatory. “Hey!” And there he was, stuck with his dick in his hand, doing absolutely nothing. “Crap,” he muttered, zipping up.

When he got back to their booth, there was only Katie. “Everything go all right?” she asked.

“Curious little buggers, aren’t they?”

“Oh, no,” she said, color rising to her cheeks on a laugh.

“No biggie,” Dylan said. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, indicating her half of a Big Mac.

“Hmm,” she said, lifting it and taking a small bite. After she chewed and swallowed, she said, “My meal usually waits until they’re done with theirs. I was a little busy.”

“Where are they? Were they taken into custody?”

“Playground.” She leaned to the left to look past Dylan. “My secret weapon. I can keep an eye on them from here. I try to choose restaurants for their distraction devices. They’re like littermates—they listen to each other more than me, sometimes. A place to burn off some energy works to my advantage.” She popped a French fry. “Are you a little uncomfortable around kids, Dylan?”

“Me? Not at all. I like kids.”

“And yet, you’ll never marry?”

He tilted his head, looking at her, and made a snap decision. No reason they shouldn’t have cards on the table. He had kissed her, after all, even if it was a completely impetuous and probably foolish move. That he’d never, ever done this with a woman before didn’t cross his mind. He followed another one of those instincts that were beginning to take over his life. “Well, I come from a broken home,” he said. “A very broken one. Many failed marriages among my immediate and extended family.”

She lifted a curious brow and took a small bite of her burger.

“My mother has been married four times, my father was married three times before his death, which was premature. That gives me lots of half brothers and sisters and stepbrothers and -sisters, many of whom have been married a couple of times or more. It probably has us all screwed up, but the thing that really works on me is what it does to kids—it can make kids feel so bad about themselves. I totally understand there are times it just can’t be avoided and the separated parents have to work really hard to be sure their kids get through the rough patch of divorce, but my parents weren’t real concerned about the kids. They were always worried about who they’d end up with next. And we always wondered, too. There’s just no reason to put kids through that.”

She leaned left to check the boys on the play stuff, then leaned back and tilted her head at him, listening. He took that to mean he should continue.

“I was my mother’s third child by her third husband, my dad’s first and only child by his second wife. Do the math, by the time I came along my folks had five marriages between them. If they can’t hold a marriage together, make relationships work, I can’t figure out why they kept having kids, but they did. Or maybe they could have concentrated on parenting the ones they already had before moving on, be sure they’re not completely traumatized? Makes sense to me…because it wasn’t just new stepmothers and stepfathers, but also quite a few potential stepmothers and stepfathers who lived with us, then disappeared.

“Now my best friend, Lang, he’s been married eleven years and has five kids and you can tell when you look at those kids that he and Sue Ann have it together, that they have a solid marriage and the kids feel safe. The kids are normal—smart, happy, fun kids.”

She took another bite. A sip of her drink.

“What I think is behind that is that they know their strengths and weaknesses, and if I come from a family with relationship and commitment problems, long-term problems, and if I know how much it can potentially upset the kids, I shouldn’t walk that path. I’m crazy about kids, but this might be some DNA thing in our family—maybe we just can’t help it. Maybe it’s a curse—like eons ago some Childress pissed off a witch. Who knows why? My buddy Lang reminded me that I told him a long time ago, when we were in college, that most of the people in my family were so self-centered and short-sighted that when they get a little hungry they buy a restaurant.”

She took another sip.

He chuckled. “It’s only in the marriage and family arena where I think I might have the curse. I have good work and business relationships. Lang has been my best friend for over fifteen years. But the kind of background I have—it just doesn’t seem worth the risk to attempt the marriage and family thing. So, you should understand, Katie—that’s why I never date women with children.”

She lifted her chin and both brows, as if surprised to hear that. She took a small bite and retired the last quarter of her Big Mac, apparently thinking of all he had said while she chewed and swallowed. And then she leaned toward him, looked him in the eye and said, “You call this a date?”

And Dylan laughed so suddenly, he almost choked on his cola.

When Katie pulled up to the school where Dylan’s bike waited, she recognized her brother’s truck. He was with his boss, Paul, unloading what looked like logs. “Huh, wonder what he’s doing.”

“You going to ask?” Dylan wondered.

“Nah. I’ll call him later. Jump out so I can get these heathens home and in the shower.”

“Done,” he said, opening the door.

“Tell Dylan thank you, boys!”

“We’ll do it again sometime,” Dylan said, leaping out of her big SUV. She hadn’t even let him drive back to Virgin River. He chuckled. She might have some control issues. It reminded him of Sue Ann…

After he’d watched Katie’s SUV disappear out of town, he turned to see that Paul and Conner were standing there, staring at him. “Hey,” Dylan said by way of greeting. “What’s doing?”

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