My Kind Of Christmas Part 14

She was quiet for a moment, just thinking. "You older men and your *practical thinking' are a little strange."

"You're probably right," he said with a laugh. She remained quiet and he sensed he might have gone too far. He decided to say goodbye before he revealed any more d.a.m.ning information-though after this, he wasn't sure there were worse secrets left to tell. "Time for lights out, Tinker Bell. I'll talk to you tomorrow, I'm sure."

On the other side of the mountain, in Jack and Mel's cabin, Angie laid on the couch, the phone still on her ear long after Paddy signed off, eyes wide and mouth open slightly. I'm going to marry Marie, but I'll see you tomorrow. Really?

A regular girl would be angry. Jealous. Insulted. But Angie wasn't a regular girl-she was different and she knew it. She saw right through his plan. He was responsible; he put duty first. And he was so lonely, in so much pain, he had a plan to marry his best friend's widow because it was safe. She couldn't imagine the magnitude of such a mistake. She also knew that simply telling him that would never work.

Imagining how he might feel inside made her heart hurt for him.

Five

Angie spent Sunday morning feeding her fire, reading a dangerously romantic novel and staying under the quilt. Every now and then she'd let her eyes drift closed and pretend the characters were Patrick Riordan and Angela LaCroix. It wasn't until about three in the afternoon that she emerged, showered, put on clean clothes and ventured into town. Tonight would bring the lighting of the tree.

By the time she arrived, Jack was putting the final touches on the strings of lights and hooking up extension cords, Mike was hanging on to Ness and people had already begun to gather around, lending a hand here and there. Angie gave a wave to the people she knew and then made her way to the bar. There she found her aunt Brie behind the bar. "Hey," she said, smiling. "You've been pressed into duty?"

"I think the guys are worried about getting everything done in time to light it up at about seven. Cocoa? Soda? What's your pleasure?"

"Cocoa sounds great."

Brie poured and asked, "And how was your night with the youngest Riordan?"

"You knew?"

"Not till this morning," she said. "Mel didn't think you'd mind if I knew. Did you have a nice evening?"

"Mmm-hmm," she said, sipping her cocoa. "He made chili. Then I beat him at Scrabble." And then he confessed he was probably going to marry another woman even though he flirted with me. She thought about telling, though she had promised she was good at keeping secrets. Was Brie the kind of person who would know what a girl was supposed to do with information like that?

"Sounds pretty tame."

"Very tame," Angie said.

"You like him?" Brie asked.

"He's very nice," Angie said.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Angie put down her cup. "He says he's too old for me."

"Oh. Is that so? Well, do you agree?"

Angie took a breath. "Age seems pretty irrelevant. And I might have a crush...."

"Really?"

She nodded, dropping her head into her palms. "As in, world-cla.s.s. And it would appear to be completely futile. Hopeless. Possibly ridiculous. He'd never be interested in someone like me." No matter how he acted.

"And why is that?"

"I think there might be a million reasons, and age is just the first of them. And then there's the fact that I'm not the kind of girl men like Patrick end up with. You have to remember-I'm a student, a nerdy student. And he's a hero. A fighter pilot. A stud."

"Stud?"

"Figuratively," she added.

"I see," Brie answered, laughing. "And his type is...?"

His best friend's widow? "I'm not sure," she answered. "Someone a lot more sophisticated, I would think."

"This brings back bittersweet memories," Brie said. "When I was a law student, about your age, actually, I was in love with a professor. We were about twelve years apart in age, but G.o.d I loved him. Or thought I did."

"I said crush," Angie reminded her.

"World-cla.s.s crush, you said. So, I loved the beautiful young professor, loved his voice and his gorgeous face and sense of humor and amazing body. And his brain- Oh, G.o.d, what a brain. I would have crawled across a sea of cut gla.s.s for a kiss, even though it was the worst idea in the world. I didn't care. I was young and romantic. Young, romantic, hormonal women do the most unbelievable things...."

"You're suggesting this is hormones?" Angie asked, affronted.

"I'm suggesting I've had some. You're responsible for your own hormones. In the end, I got a little bit of the professor-we had a brief dalliance after I was no longer his student. For about a month I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Then I realized heaven was full of women like me-he'd been very busy and young law students were his specialty."

"By *dalliance' do you mean...?"

Brie nodded gravely. "Boy howdy, as Mel would say."

"First, I don't know if Patrick is like that and second..." She blinked. Dammit to h.e.l.l, her eyes had clouded as if she'd cry. "I don't have a second."

Brie grabbed one of Angie's hands. "My heart was so broken. I got over it, of course, but it really hurt for a while." She gave the hand a squeeze. "You're a little vulnerable, babe. Accident and all."

Brie was spot-on. But what Brie didn't know was that Angie was thinking-what difference was there between having your heart broken after one night or after one month? What difference is there in intensity? But she knew the answer to that question-if he ignored her from this point on, she might wonder and even suffer some longing, but she'd soon move on. If she went further, got truly involved with him and then they parted ways, as of course they must, she was fairly certain she would be torn to pieces.

"Don't worry, Aunt Brie," she said. "I'm sure we'll never be more than just friends." But what she meant was He'll never take the chance.

"Probably for the best," Brie said. "Want to help put out cookies?"

"Sure. I bet this place gets really busy when the lights go on."

"Really busy."

After Angie finished her cocoa she went into the kitchen to scout around for cookies. She found Preacher at the stove and Paige busy putting cookies on decorative platters.

"Good, another pair of hands!" Paige said happily.

In no time at all, Angie was grateful for the kitchen ch.o.r.es. She thought more about Patrick but it was too busy to look around for him. She arranged cookies on platters, carried them to the bar and saw the place begin to fill up with people. Paige put out punch and a big urn of coffee and, while it appeared the town of Virgin River would feast on cookies, brownies and sugary bars, Preacher had a pot of stew and fresh bread ready for anyone craving something a little more substantial. The platters emptied as fast as Angie could put them out and, as she refilled them, the time flew by. The sun was setting by five-thirty, the colorful lights inside the bar were lit; there were happy voices and laughter everywhere. Women began to add their own sweets to the collection. Tables had to be pushed together to accommodate all the offerings. Drinks were served-hot toddies, cocoa and the stuff that would warm bellies on cold winter nights.