Virgin River. Робин Карр

been widowed a long time now, I gather. And she seems to do whatever she can to keep the town together. She’s also looking for a preacher, a town cop and a schoolteacher, grades one through eight, so the little ones don’t have to bus two towns over. She hasn’t had much success.”

      “Doctor Mullins doesn’t seem to appreciate her efforts,” Mel said, blotting her lips with the napkin.

      “He’s territorial. He’s in no way ready for retirement. Maybe he’s worried that someone will show up and take over, leaving him with nothing to do. Man like Doc, never married and in service to a town all his life, would balk at that. But… see… There was an incident a few years ago, just before I got here. Two emergencies at the same time. A truck went off the road and the driver was critically injured, and a kid with a bad case of flu that turned to pneumonia stopped breathing. Doc stopped the bleeding on the truck driver, but by the time he got across the river to the kid, he was too late.”

      “God,” she said. “Bet that leaves some hard feelings.”

      “I don’t think anyone really blames him. He’s saved some lives in his time here. But the feeling he could use some help gets more support.” He smiled. “You’re the first one to show up.”

      “Hmm,” she said, taking a last sip of coffee. She heard the door open behind her and a couple of men walked in.

      “Harv. Ron,” Jack said. The men said hello and sat at a table by the window. Jack looked back at Mel. “What made you come up here?” he asked.

      “Burnout,” she said. “I got sick of being on a firstname basis with cops and homicide detectives.”

      “Jesus, just what kind of work did you do?”

      “Ever been to war?” she asked.

      “As a matter of fact,” he replied with a nod.

      “Well, big-city hospitals and trauma centers get like that. I spent years in the emergency room in downtown L.A. while I was doing my post-grad work to become a family nurse practitioner, and there were days it felt like a battle zone. Felons transported to E.R. after incurring injuries during arrest—people who were still so out of control and impossible to subdue that three or four cops had to hold them down while one of the nurses tried to start an IV. Addicts with so much junk in them, three hits with an officer’s Taser wouldn’t even slow ‘em down, much less a dose of Narcan. O.D.s, victims of violent crimes and, given it was the biggest trauma center in L.A., some of the ugliest MVAs and GSWs… Sorry. Motor vehicle accidents and gunshot wounds. And crazy people with no supervision, nowhere to go, off their meds and… Don’t get me wrong, we did some good work. Excellent work. I’m real proud of what we got done. Best staff in, maybe, America.”

      She gazed off for a second, thinking. The environment was wild and chaotic, yet while she was working with and falling in love with her husband, it was exciting and fulfilling. She gave her head a little shake and went on.

      “I transferred out of E.R. to women’s health, which I found was what I’d been looking for. Labor and delivery. I went to work on my certification in midwifery. That turned out to be my true calling, but it wasn’t always a sweeter experience.” She laughed sadly and shook her head. “My first patient was brought in by the police and I had to fight them like a bulldog to get the cuffs off. They wanted me to deliver her while she was handcuffed to the bed.”

      He smiled. “Well, you’re in luck. I don’t think there’s a pair of handcuffs in town.”

      “It wasn’t like that every day, but it was like that often. I supervised the nurses on the L&D ward for a couple of years. The excitement and unpredictability zooped me up for a long time, but I finally hit a wall. I love women’s health, but I can’t do city medicine like that anymore. God, I need a slower pace. I’m wiped out.”

      “That’s an awful lot of adrenaline to leave behind,” he said.

      “Yeah, I’ve been accused of being an adrenaline junky. Emergency nurses often are.” She smiled at him. “I’m trying to quit.”

      “Ever live in a small town?” he asked, refilling her coffee.

      She shook her head. “Smallest town I’ve ever lived in had at least a million people in it. I grew up in Seattle and went to Southern California for college.”

      “Small towns can be nice. And they can have their own brand of drama. And danger.”

      “Like?” she asked, sipping.

      “Flood. Fire. Wildlife. Hunters who don’t follow the rules. The occasional criminal. Lotta pot growers out here, but not in Virgin River that I know of. Humboldt Homegrown, it’s called around here. They’re a tight-knit group and usually keep to themselves—don’t want to draw attention. Once in a while, though, there’ll be crime associated with drugs.” He grinned. “But you never had any of that in the city, right?”

      “When I was looking for change, I shouldn’t have made such a drastic one. This is kind of like going cold turkey. I might have to downsize a little more gradually. Maybe try out a town with a couple hundred thousand people and a Starbucks.”

      “You aren’t going to tell me Starbucks can beat that coffee you’re drinking,” he said, nodding at her cup.

      She gave a short laugh. “Coffee’s great.” She favored him with a pleasant smile, deciding that this guy was okay. “I should’ve considered the roads. To think I left the terror of Los Angeles freeways for the heart-stopping curves and cliffs in these hills… Whew.” A tremor ran through her. “If I did stay in a place like this, it would be for your food.”

      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 watched him walk across the street to the doctor’s house, then got into her car. She made a wide U-turn on the deserted street and headed back the way she had come. As she drove by Doc’s house, she slowed. Jack was crouched on the porch, looking at something. The covered dish was still balanced on one hand and he lifted the other, signaling her to stop. As he looked toward her car, his expression was one of shock. Disbelief.

      Mel stopped the car and got out. “You okay?” she asked.

      He stood up. “No,” he said. “Can you come here a sec?”

      She left the car running, the door open, and went up on the porch. It was a box, sitting there in front of the doctor’s door, and the look on Jack’s face remained stunned. She crouched down and looked