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" He leaned toward her, bracing hands on the bar. Rich brown eyes glowed warm under serious hooded brows. “I can get that cabin put right for you in no time,” he said. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” She put out a hand and he took it. She felt his calluses as he gently squeezed her hand; he was a man who did hard, physical work. “Thanks, Jack. Your bar was the only part of this experiment I enjoyed.” She stood and began fishing for her wallet in her purse. “What do I owe you?” “On the house. The least I could do.” “Come on, Jack—none of this was your doing.” “Fine. I’ll send Hope a bill.” At that moment Preacher came out of the kitchen with a covered dish wrapped in a towel. He handed it to Jack. “Doc’s breakfast. I’ll walk out with you.” “All right,” she said. At her car, he said, “No kidding. I wish you’d think about it.” “Sorry, Jack. This isn’t for me.” “Well, damn. There’s a real dearth of beautiful young women around here. Have a safe drive.” He gave her elbow a little squeeze, balancing the covered dish in his other hand. And all she could think was, what a peach of a guy. Lots of sex appeal in his dark eyes, strong jaw, small cleft in his chin and the gracious, laid-back manner that suggested he didn’t know he was good-looking. Someone should snap him up before he figured it out. Probably someone had. Mel "
― Robyn Carr , Virgin River (Virgin River, #1)
88
" He touched her lips softly with his, gently, tentatively. Her eyes closed as she allowed this and his arms tightened around her as he pressed more firmly against her lips. Hers opened and his breath caught as he opened his own and felt her small tongue dart into his mouth. His world reeled and he was lost in a kiss that deepened, that moved him, that shook him. “Don’t,” she whispered against his mouth. “Don’t get mixed up with me, Jack.” He kissed her again, holding her against him as though he would never let her go. “Don’t worry about me,” he said against her lips. “You don’t understand. I have nothing to give. Nothing.” “I haven’t asked you for a thing,” he said. But in his mind he was saying, You’re mistaken. You are giving, and taking—and it feels damn good. All Mel could think, in the abstract, was that her body for once wasn’t hollow and so empty she ached. She drank it in, the feeling of being connected to something. To someone. Anchored. So wonderful to have that human contact again. In her soul she had forgotten how, but her body remembered. “You’re a good man, Jack,” she said against his lips. “I don’t want you to be hurt. Because I can’t love anyone.” All he said was, “I can take care of myself.” She kissed him again. Deeply. Passionately. For a long minute; two minutes, moving under his mouth with heat. And the baby fussed. She pulled away from him. “Oh, man, why’d I do that?” she asked. “That’s a mistake.” He shrugged. “Mistake? Nah. We’re friends,” he said. “We’re close. You needed some comfort and—and here I am.” “That just can’t happen,” she said, sounding a little desperate. He took charge, feeling his own sense of desperation. “Mel, stop it. You were crying. That’s all.” “I was kissing,” she said. “And so were you!” He smiled at her. “You are so hard on yourself sometimes. It’s okay to feel something that doesn’t hurt once in a while.” “Promise me that won’t happen again!” “It won’t if you don’t want it to. But let me tell you something—if you do want it to, I’m going to let you. You know why? Because I like kissing. And I don’t beat myself up about it.” “I’m not doing that,” she said. “I just don’t want to be stupid.” “You’re punishing yourself. I can’t figure out why. But,” he said, lifting her off his lap and putting her on her feet, “you get to call the shots. Personally, I think you secretly like me. Trust me. And I think for a minute there, you also liked kissing me.” He grinned at her. “I could tell. I’m so smart that way.” “You’re just desperate for a little female companionship,” she said. “Oh, there are females around. That has nothing to do with anything.” “Still—you have to promise.” “Sure,” he said. “If that’s what you want.” “It’s what I need.” He "
― Robyn Carr , Virgin River (Virgin River, #1)
90
" He was in love with her. This man who had never been in love in his life. Not once. As a kid, a young man, he’d thought himself in love a couple of times, but it hadn’t felt like this. Lust, he was familiar with that. Wanting a woman was something he knew quite well—but wanting to take care of a woman so that she would never hurt, never want, never be afraid or lonely—he had no experience with that. There had been beautiful women in his past; intelligent women, clever women, women with wit and courage and passion, but as far as he could remember, never one like Mel; never before a woman who had everything he’d ever wanted. And it just figures, he thought. I’m stupid in love with a woman who isn’t available to me. She’s still in a relationship, albeit a relationship that was no longer viable. Didn’t matter. He’d held her while she was wracked with the pain of losing someone else. She had a lot to get over, to get past. Even if he stood by her and waited for that to happen, it didn’t mean she could fall in love with him. Still, he had no choice. He was into her all the way. He "
― Robyn Carr , Virgin River (Virgin River, #1)
