Robyn Carr - Temptation Ridge

“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.

To his astonishment, she laughed. “Aw, I wasn’t going too fast. I got a schedule, y’know,” she yelled. “My advice? Stay out of the way.”

His scalp felt hot under his short hair and he really wanted to swear. When he turned back to Shelby and Doc, he found her smiling behind her hand and Doc’s eyes twinkling. “You got a little splatter on your back there, Luke,” she said, trying to keep control of her lips.

Doc’s face was the same—cranky and impatient, but for the glittering eyes. “Molly’s been slinging that big yellow tube around these mountains for thirty years now, and ain’t nobody knows these roads better. Guess she didn’t see a pothole this once.”

“It’s not even September yet!” Luke protested.

“She drives year-round,” Doc said. “Summer school, special programs, athletics. Always something going on. She’s a saint—you couldn’t pay me enough to do that job. What’s a mud puddle here and there?” Then the old doctor put his truck noisily in gear. “Our turn coming up.”

Shelby jogged back toward her Jeep. Luke started to walk back toward his truck, which pulled a camper. Then he heard Doc, shouting at his back, “Welcome to Virgin River, son. Enjoy yourself.” And it was followed by a cackle.

Shelby McIntyre had been fixing up her deceased mother’s house for months, but she’d been able to drive up to Virgin River from Bodega Bay nearly every weekend through the summer to ride. And her Uncle Walt had paid many a visit to her to oversee renovation work that he’d personally contracted. By the end of summer Shelby had roses on her cheeks. She had rolled up her shorts and her legs were tanned. Her thighs and butt had developed firm riding muscles and her eyes sparkled with health. It had been years since she’d benefited from that type of regular exercise.

But when she pulled up in front of Walt’s house now, in mid-August, it was a completely different feeling. The house was sold, her belongings were in the back of her Jeep, and at the age of twenty-five, she was embarking on a brand-new life. She gave the horn a toot, got out of her Jeep and stretched. In just moments, Uncle Walt came out the front door, stood there with his hands on his hips, a big grin on his face. “Welcome back,” he said. “Or should I say, welcome home?”

“Hey there,” she said, walking into his arms. Walt was six feet with thick, silver hair, dark bushy brows and shoulders and arms like a wrestler’s. He was a powerfully built man for just over sixty.

He hugged her tight. “I was just about to go to the stable and saddle up. You too tired? You hungry or anything?”

“I’m dying to get on a horse, but I think I’ll pass after riding in a Jeep for over four hours,” she said.

He laughed. “Backside pretty well broken in?”

“Ohhh,” she said, rubbing her butt.

“I’m just riding down along the river for an hour or so. Vanni’s down at the new construction, getting in Paul’s business, but she’s going to be back in time to cook you a nice welcome-home dinner.”