Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
One
Shelby was within ten miles of her Uncle Walt’s ranch when she had to pull over to the side of highway 36, the busiest stretch between Virgin River and Fortuna, behind an old pickup truck that looked vaguely familiar. Although 36 was the highway that ran across the mountains from Red Bluff to Fortuna, it was mostly two lane. She put her cherry-red Jeep SUV in Park and stepped out of the vehicle. The rain had finally stopped, giving way to a bright summer sun, but the road was wet and splattered with muddy puddles. She peered way up the road to see a man wearing a bright orange vest holding a stop sign toward a long string of cars, closing both lanes. The turnoff to her Uncle Walt’s would be on the other side of the next hill.
She picked her way around puddles to the truck parked in front of her, intending to ask the driver if he knew what was going on. When she got to the driver’s window she smiled. “Well, hey, Doc.”
Doc Mullins looked out the open window. “Hey, yourself, little girl. Up here for a weekend of riding?” he asked with his usual grumpy tone.
“Not this time, Doc. I sold my mother’s house in Bodega Bay,” she said. “Packed up the bare essentials and am moving in with Uncle Walt for a while.”
“Permanently?”
“Nah. For a few months, though. I’m still in transition.”
Doc’s grimace melted slightly, but only slightly. “Once again, condolences on your loss, Shelby,” he said. “I hope you’re doing all right with that.”
“Better all the time, thanks. My mom was ready to go.” She tilted her head up the road. “Have any idea what’s holding us up here?”
“Soft shoulder gave out,” he said. “I passed it on my way to Valley Hospital. Dumped half this lane down the hill. They’re repairing.”
“Guardrails would be nice,” she observed.
“Only around the tight curves,” he said. “On a straightaway like this, we’re on our own. Damn lucky a car or truck didn’t go with that soft shoulder. It’s going to be like this the next few days.”
“Once I get to Walt’s, I’m not planning to be on this road again, for a while anyway,” she said with a shrug.
“What are you planning, if I might ask?” Doc said, lifting one of his bushy eyebrows.
“Well, while I’m visiting the family, I’ll be making applications to schools. Nursing,” she said with a smile. “A fairly obvious choice for me after taking care of my mother for years.”
“Ach, just what I need,” he said with his usual scowl. “Another nurse. Drive me to drink.”
She laughed at him. “At least we won’t have to drive you far.”
“There’s just what I mean. Another impertinent one, at that,” he clarified.
She laughed again, loving this ornery old guy. Shelby turned, Doc leaned out of his window and both of them watched a man approach from the truck that had stopped behind Shelby’s Jeep. He walked toward them. His hair was shaved down in that military fashion she’d been accustomed to all her life; her uncle was a retired army general. A black T-shirt was stretched tight over broad, hard shoulders, his waist narrow, his hips slim and legs long. But what fascinated her was the way he came toward them, with an economy of movement. Deliberate. Confident. Cocky. His thumbs were hooked into front pockets and he sauntered. When he got closer, she could see his very slight smile as he looked at her, or looked her over, to be more precise. Sizing her up with glowing eyes. In your dreams, she thought, which caused her to smile back.
As he passed her Jeep, he glanced inside at all the packed-up boxes, then continued to where she was standing beside Doc’s open window. “That yours?” he asked, jutting his chin toward the Jeep.
“Yup.”
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Virgin River. You?”
“The same.” He grinned. “Any idea what’s going on up there?”
“Collapsed shoulder,” Doc said with a grunt. “They have us down to one lane for repairs. What’s your business in Virgin River?”
“I have some old cabins along the river there.” He glanced between them. “You two live in the town?” he asked.
“I have family there,” Shelby said. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Shelby.”
He took her small hand. “Luke. Luke Riordan.” He turned toward Doc, putting out his hand again. “Sir?”
Doc didn’t extend a hand, but rather gave a nod. His hands were so twisted with arthritis, he never risked a handshake. “Mullins,” he said.
“Doc Mullins has lived in Virgin River all his life. He’s the town doctor,” Shelby explained to Luke.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Luke said.
“Another jarhead?” Doc asked, lifting one white, spiking eyebrow.
Luke straightened. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “Army. Sir.” Then he looked at Shelby. “Another marine?”
“A few of our friends who work in town are marines. Retired or discharged. Their friends come around sometimes—some of them are still active or in the reserves,” she explained. “But my uncle, who I’ll be living with for a while, was Army. Retired.” She grinned. “You won’t stand out that much with your hairdo. I don’t know what it is with you guys and the buzz cuts.”
He smiled patiently. “We’ve never been checked out on those dryer things.”
“Ah. Blow-dryers. Right.”
As they waited in their stalled lane, the second lane was opened up to let a big yellow school bus pass. Judging by the number of vehicles waiting in their lane, they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, so there was no great rush to get back to their cars. They remained standing on the road, which ended up being a big mistake for Luke. As he saw the bus barreling down the other lane, Luke also noted a sizable puddle in front of it. He quickly put himself between Shelby and the bus, pressing her up against Doc’s open window. With a hand on each side of her, he covered her with his body, barely in time to feel the splat from the puddle against his back.
Shelby stifled a chuckle. Macho man, she thought with some humor.
Luke heard downshifting, then the squeal of brakes. “Jesus,” he muttered as he backed off the girl and glared after the bus.
As Luke turned and scowled at the bus, the driver leaned out the window. A round-faced woman in her fifties, rosy cheeked with a cap of short dark hair, grinned at him. She grinned! “Sorry, buddy,” she said. “Couldn’t hardly help that.”
“You could if you went a lot slower,” he yelled back at her.
