“Wow,” she said. “You’re a lot more ambitious than I am.”

“Like I said, I might’ve gotten a little carried away. Been a long time since I brought a woman flowers.”

“They sell those in the grocery store, you know. Five bucks, you put ’em in a vase, the woman thinks you’re a real catch.”

The smile again, dimple and all. “I didn’t want to leave any doubt.”

She thought about that briefly. “Listen, we can have this discussion later, about how my mission here has nothing to do with getting involved with a man. But for now I want you to put away all the garden stuff and wash your hands. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get us takeout at Jack’s. I’m too exhausted to even make us sandwiches and too dirty to eat at the bar.”

She took off her shoes, brushed her jeans free of dirt and went inside to wash her hands and grab her purse.

She returned just ten minutes later with a brown paper bag and two bottles of beer. “I have a half bottle of Merlot on the counter, but I’ve never seen you drink wine.” She lifted the bottles. “Will this do it for you?”

“You are a goddess.”

She looked down at herself. Dirty, disheveled, exhausted. “You must be more desperate than you look.”

Leslie served up the dinner while Conner scrubbed his hands. While they sat at her little table with Preacher’s slow-cooked ribs, potato salad and beans, they talked about safe things—being Catholic, having a sibling or being an only child, missing parents versus being close to parents. She was distracted by the deep blue of his eyes and the fact that he’d arrived in the morning with his cheeks clean-shaven and now his beard was growing in. They toasted the yard, clinking wineglass to beer bottle. They talked about work; they gossiped about some of the crew and laughed over Dan’s proclivity for shedding his prosthetic leg to work and balancing with an empty pant leg flapping in the wind.

“I didn’t know he was an amputee,” Leslie said.

“Neither did I, until I came to work and saw a leg lying on the floor. He’s better on one leg than most of us are on two.” He drained his second beer. “I’ll help you wash up and store the leftovers.”

“No, you won’t. I think you’ve put in a long enough day. I’ll walk you to the door.” And once there, she turned toward him and said, “Thank you, Conner. It’s beautiful and it turned into a fun day.”

He slipped his hands to her waist and pulled her in for a hug. “I had a good time,” he said. She patted his upper arms, and when she tried to pull back, he held on. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply, letting out a small, low moan.

“I’m all sweaty from yard work,” she whispered.

“Hmm. How do you do that? Sweat, soap and flowers?” He opened his lips slightly, taking a little taste of her flesh. “Wow,” he said softly.

But she didn’t resist. In fact she tilted her head slightly. “Okay, this is flirting,” she said in a throaty voice.

“I don’t flirt,” he said, giving her neck a lick, followed by a little kiss. “I just go after what I want, that’s all.” And he gave her several small kisses that ran right up to her earlobe. And then he pulled back and smiled into her wide eyes.

“Look, I’m only going to explain this once. It should be obvious to you. Since I’m trying to recover from a divorce—”

“And an ex-husband who’s a nutcase,” he added for her.

“And that. I am not getting involved romantically.”

He gave a nod. “Perfectly understandable.”

“Period.”

“Got it,” he said. “But really, how do you do that? Did you sneak a shower at Jack’s? Because you look like you should taste like sweat, dirt and compost, but you’re sweet.”

“Did you hear me?” she asked him.

“Absolutely. I have some of the same issues. Would you like to go see a movie tomorrow?”

“No!”

“That’s too bad. I think I’ll go anyway. I haven’t been to a movie in a long time,” he said.

“So maybe you think this could work out for you as a non-relationship, but I don’t do non-relationships, either. Am I clear?”

“Les, I didn’t propose anything. I licked your neck, which by the way was delicious. I’ll see you at work Monday. Don’t forget to water.” He put a light kiss on her forehead and gave her butt a pat. And he was out the door, down the walk and in the truck without looking back.

She shivered. “Whew,” she said aloud.

Conner’s workweek was busier than usual, starting with loading the trailer that served as Paul’s construction office so it could be transported across the mountain to another site. Just getting it ready for the tow took hours, the entire morning. As it got on its way, Paul and Dan talked about another project in town—the erection of a prefab building that would serve as a school. When Conner heard that it was a volunteer project, that some local men and some of Paul’s construction crews were doing it without pay, he said, “Sign me up. My dance card isn’t full.”

“It’s a project for the town,” Paul made sure to clarify. “When we do something for the town, we don’t take pay. It’s like plowing in winter, towing a motorist or searching for someone who’s lost—strictly neighbor to neighbor. We completely understand if you want to put your hours in on the clock. I’m sure you need the money.”

Conner gave a shrug. “I’m sure you do, too. I’ll be glad to work on it. The more people who pitch in, the faster it goes, right?”

“That’s a fact,” Dan said, giving him a slap on the shoulder.

And that’s when it got more interesting. Conner saw a lot of familiar faces; the bar had been closed so Jack, Preacher and Denny could help put up the school. Mike Valenzuela was there as well as many of the ranchers and farmers he’d met at the bar. He learned there had been a trust left to the town that would pay the teacher, Becca, the pretty young lady engaged to Denny. The land on which the building would sit was loaned, the building itself was paid for out of the trust managed by Jack, which made him like the unofficial mayor of Virgin River.

At some point during the afternoon of construction, nearly everyone showed up to watch. When Brie came around, Conner snuck a quiet moment. “I wish I could tell Katie about this, about how the town rallies like this.”

“Better not to,” she said, shaking her head. “Rule of thumb—before we get to trial, don’t mention anything that can be looked up on Google.”

“That’s too bad,” he said. “She’d really get a kick out of this. This is the kind of thing Katie loves.”

For the first three days of the week he was busy working for Paul in the mornings, helping finish the construction on the school in the afternoons. Then he went with Dan to start tearing out kitchen cabinets in Redway, ready to start installing a new kitchen on Monday morning.

He didn’t see Leslie all week. He spent considerable time in town, working on the school and having dinner at Jack’s, and he also drove by her house a couple of times to see if she might be out watering her plants. The temptation to knock on her door was powerful, but he resisted. If he didn’t leave her alone to think about things, this whole proposition would backfire.

By Saturday, he’d had enough of his exile. He helped work on the school much of the day and in the afternoon he drove to Fortuna, but he wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t park right in front of that silly turquoise coffee shop. Instead he parked across the street at the tattoo parlor. Then he went inside and ordered a coffee, a tea and two slices of pie.

Just as before, at around the dinner hour, the place was deserted but for one young man who appeared to be a student busy on his laptop. Conner settled right into their girlie little sitting area.

Leslie felt she had always had a confidence problem. For a while as a wife, a good wife, she’d felt sure of herself, and then Greg had answered her loaded question and said, “Yes, honey, there has been someone else. And I just can’t live without her, it’s that simple.”

It didn’t stay simple. Even though she’d been betrayed, Leslie had tried to convince Greg to try to work it out with her, to go to counseling or something. If he would just give up Allison and try.... But he’d been packing as he talked. And Leslie had reached one of her all-time lowest moments—she’d clung to him and begged him not to leave their marriage. She had literally fallen to her knees and grabbed his legs. Just the thought that she’d ever risk revisiting such a place in her life was more than she could bear. She would never be brought that low again—it was humiliating. So she had come to Virgin River with a very firm resolve—she’d do without a man, and if there ever was one, he would be a man she didn’t care much about.

And yet, like one of those songs you can’t get out of your head, she kept feeling Conner’s bristly, closely trimmed whiskers on her neck. She missed him. She wanted his seduction, his power and his tenderness. She wanted laughter. She wanted to risk herself again, though it terrified her. She had fantasized about those arms around her for a week, and in each one she was wearing less. And less. And less…

She went to yoga to stretch out and then to her favorite coffee shop for her tea. He was the first thing she saw in the shop. He grinned at her, and her hand automatically touched her neck where she had felt his whiskers all week. He was seated at that little coffee table with coffee in front of him and tea in that place that would be hers. Her first thought was to wonder if it would be bad form to throw herself on him and taste his mustache.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said. “What a surprise.”

Six

Leslie walked right over to where Conner sat. “What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“What do you think?” he returned. “Hoping to run into you. How was your week?”

“Fine,” she said. “Do you expect me to believe you’re just being friendly?”

“I haven’t been anything else. I haven’t seen you all week and I thought maybe you could use a piece of pie. Or something.”

“I thought I told you—”

“Yes, you told me. You can’t eat pie and you can’t get involved and you can’t be uninvolved. That’s going to be tricky. Sit down anyway—I got you some tea and a slice of pie. It’s apple.”

“I’ve been trying to watch my weight....”

“I heard all about that. Just a taste,” he said. “I’ll eat whatever you leave. You don’t have to watch your weight, Les. You’re perfect. You’d still be perfect twenty pounds heavier, so don’t punish yourself.” He shook out a paper napkin, slid forward on his chair, put a small bite on the end of a fork and held it toward her. “Come on. I’ve given you a week to stew and now it’s time to sort it out. With pie.”

She wondered if this was a good idea, but with a fork of apple pie hovering at her lips, she let him feed her. It wasn’t the pie that tempted her.

“It’s been an interesting week,” he said. “I worked in town some with Dan and Paul and some others, getting that school building up. Everyone who worked on that project did it without pay. It’s been a long time since I did anything like that—volunteer work. Community service. Felt good. And I drove by your house a couple of times to see how the flowers were holding up—I’d say we did a damn fine job on the yard.” He took a sip of his coffee. “If you’re not planning to plant the back forty tomorrow, I think we should grab a movie and dinner. I helped out on that school today and they’re going to be there again tomorrow but I could use a day off.”