Hidden Summit (5 page)

After talking to Katie on Saturday afternoon, he decided on a cup of coffee and a slice of pie. There was Starbucks, but he liked that place where he’d met Brie—a gaudy, girlie, turquoise place filled with fragile-looking furniture he was afraid to sit on. He always chose to sit up at the counter on a sturdy stool. Once there, he ordered his coffee and pie.

And she came in. Leslie. She didn’t notice him. She was wearing some kind of leotard thing under her coat, and her hair looked kind of all over the place. And she did what she did best, laughed with the man behind the coffee bar who served her. They laughed as if they were best friends. Then she took her tall iced tea and her small muffin and went over to one of those delicate-looking miniature couches and settled in to check the messages on her cell phone. She must do as so many mountain residents did—check messages and return calls when and where there was reception.

Conner raised one finger as he would in a bar, and the guy came over. “Can I have that coffee and pie to go?” he said.

“Sure,” the young blond guy said. “Everything all right?”

“Perfect. I’ve got a roasted chicken in the truck and I’m going to take it home and nuke it for dinner, then chase it with the key lime.” He tried out a smile.

“Sounds lovely.” And the man turned to get a paper cup and plastic carton of key lime pie.

“Conner?”

Damn. She was standing right beside him. He looked into her eyes, caught that delicious smile and thought,
Crap.
It zinged him. Gave him a little shock of awareness in all his male parts. “Hi,” he said.

“What a surprise. I never expected to run into someone from Virgin River here. There’s a yoga studio around the corner. I love yoga. I come at least twice a week.”

So that explained the leotard. “I don’t know anything about yoga,” he admitted.

She laughed, genuinely amused. “I’d be kind of surprised if you did. Grab your coffee and join me.”

“I probably better not.”

“Oh?” she asked. “You have plans?”

He was struck speechless. How did you answer that? There’d been a time Conner, as Danny, had been pretty smooth with women. He’d known how to charm them or how to at least get a phone number, but it had been a long time since he’d had a woman other than his sister in his life. This lying about everything wasn’t easy for him—he was used to shooting straight from the hip. With Leslie it was even more complicated—he found her attractive, and she was doing the boss. “I just don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

“In the middle…?” She frowned. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“You know,” he said, giving a shrug. “Your…relationship.”

“What relationship? I’m single.”

His brow furrowed. “Right,” he said.

She continued to frown; her eyes had narrowed. “What relationship?” she demanded.

“Well…I… Looked like maybe you and the boss…” That was as much as he got out. “It’s none of my business.” And he thought,
I’ll be dead in a month, as terrible as I am at lying, at covering up.

She was still frowning. The blond guy behind the coffee bar put Conner’s coffee and pie on the counter. “Grab your coffee and come with me,” she said. And allowing for no discussion or refusal, she turned and walked away, expecting him to follow.

“Crap,” he muttered. Then he let out a breath and did as she said. She sat down on a little bitty couch with spindly legs, and opposite was a chair with equally skinny, curvy legs. He looked down at her, pie in one hand and coffee in the other. “I don’t know, Leslie. I don’t think I should sit on that.”

“It’s stronger than it looks. Sit,” she commanded. And he did so. “Paul is an old friend,” she said. “I worked for his family in Oregon for ten years. I was trying to relocate but didn’t have a new job, and he offered me one here. There is nothing the least bit inappropriate between us.”

“Okay. Like I said, none of my business anyway,” he said, standing to escape.

“Sit.”

He did as she told him.

“Why would you assume something like that about me?”

“I…” He made a face. “The first night I was in town, I was at that little bar and you and Paul… Well, I didn’t know who either of you were, but he had his arm around you. Kissed you. It looked like maybe you were crying or something. You had a drink and left together. Like a couple.”

She was quiet for a moment, her lips pursed. “What nerve,” she said.

“Hey, you don’t owe me an explanation. It’s nothing to me.”

“Listen to me. Carefully. I was married while I worked for Haggerty Construction in Grants Pass. My husband and I divorced and he moved on very quickly. Actually, he moved on
before
we were divorced. He remarried right away, got his new wife pregnant. He’s going to be a father. And me? Why of course I get to be friends with the charming couple. He would probably even like me to be the baby’s godmother. I would have gone to hell to get out of there. This job was a lifesaver. Paul was a lifesaver. I might’ve been emotional about that.”

Conner was quiet for a long moment, and then, inexplicably, he smiled. “Seriously?”

“Which part?” she asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“He wanted you to be friends with his new wife?”

“Yes. And be so happy for them.”

“Wow,” he said, still smiling. “What balls.”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Well. He was so fucking civil even my parents thought I should just get over it. Sorry—I don’t usually use that word.”

“Sounds kind of apropos where the ex is concerned.”

“You have
no
idea. I couldn’t get away from them in that town. Paul was very sweet to help me out. I can’t remember crying or getting kissed in Jack’s Bar, but—”

“It looked kind of…cozy. Like maybe he was the boyfriend and the two of you were having some kind of…misunderstanding. And you have such a close— I guess I don’t have much of an imagination, I could only think of one possibility.”

“It’s a very rude and unflattering assumption to make about a woman. The last thing I would ever do is get involved with a married man.”

“Hey, I apologize. I’m really sorry about what you’re going through, but it makes a lot more sense that I’d think you were a couple than that the boss is comforting you because your ex…” He chuckled and rubbed a hand over his goatee. “Wants to be friends, does he? Wow. And I take it you don’t feel like being friends?”

She glared at him. Her eyes were mere slits. “I feel like killing him, but the hell of it is, I’d probably grieve him. And pay for his funeral. I used to love him. And now I completely hate him, but not enough.”

“Shew,” Conner said. “I get that.”

“You do?”

“I’m divorced. I didn’t like it too much, either,” he said. “And we’re never going to be friends.” And Leslie’s anger at the very idea that she would mess with a married man—this was going to make fighting the attraction a lot tougher.

“I’m thirty-two,” she said. “People tell me how young I am, but I’ve had a little trouble with passing thirty, ending an eight-year marriage, feeling like I’m starting my life over at this age. I didn’t mind starting my life at twenty-two, but at thirty-two? Not so happy about it. And I highly resent the circumstances. To be frank, I’m not real happy that you pegged me as a cheater. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to jump to conclusions?”

“Didn’t I apologize?” he asked. “I might be a little cynical. I’m thirty-five and I’m not real happy about starting over, either. Job gone, divorced, relocated, et cetera.”

“With how many of the guys at work did you share your speculation about Paul and me?” she asked.

“No one. I don’t gossip,” he said, his heavy brows drawing together in a frown. “Look, I don’t blame you for being offended, but could you lighten up? I didn’t mean to—”

They both turned to look as someone cleared his throat. The blond barista behind the counter was glaring at them. “I like to close by six,” he said. “Do you suppose you could take the argument to Starbucks?”

As Leslie and Conner left the coffee shop, he asked, “All right, are we straight now? You accept my apology?”

“Probably. But I admit, it bothers me. It makes me wonder how many other people assume there’s more to my relationship with Paul Haggerty than a very long-term, very proper friendship.”

“Listen, I’m a little cynical,” Conner said. “Sometimes it’s not easy.”

“Get over it,” she said, opening her car door.

“I’ll work on that. And I’ll be behind you on the way back up the mountain. Not too close, but close enough to make sure you get back to town all right.”

“I don’t need an escort,” she said.

“I’m sure you’re extremely capable, but I happen to live there.” And he closed her door after she was seated. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Hardheaded enough?”

Leslie drove back to Virgin River with Conner’s lights behind her at a respectable distance.

For Leslie, it had been over eighteen months since she’d even entertained the notion of a man in her life. She’d been grieving and damning Greg Adams, the happy-go-lucky ex, all that time. She’d been void of desire. In fact she had made up her mind that it would be a very long time before she’d let a man get close, if ever, because only a fool wouldn’t be afraid to trust a man again. It would risk a broken heart. The very idea that someone thought she’d settle for a married man bit deep.

The kind of guy in her very distant future had not resembled Paul Haggerty in any way; Paul was more like a brother to her. Now Conner Danson… That was another story. If he wasn’t such an ass, he would be irresistible.

This surprised her. Conner was nothing like the kind of man who had attracted her before. He was nothing like Greg, which should have probably recommended him, except for that ass thing. There was also the fact that Leslie was determined to paste her confidence back together with
out
the assistance of a man.

Greg had been, still was, movie-star pretty with dark hair, beautiful hazel eyes flecked with gold, a trim build with strong shoulders and arms and a smile that made girls tremble. He was fussy about what he wore and drove, and his two primary goals in life were to be rich and prominent. Leslie suspected his new lawyer wife had tipped him on how to rat-hole some money because he still
looked
pretty well-off despite escaping alimony, and while they’d been married, he’d always brought home enough money to afford all the things he wanted.

During their eight-year marriage, she’d gotten used to women flirting with him, yet she’d never doubted his fidelity, never. Greg had been amused by flirtation; clearly he enjoyed it, but it never seemed as though he’d act on it. A very attractive waitress once wrote her phone number on the check, even though they were dining together. He had looked at it, laughed, crumpled it and said, “As if.”

Conner was a whole different kind of guy.
Pretty
hardly described him—Conner was taller, broader, stronger. He didn’t have those classic good looks but rather willful brown hair that he kept short, a square jaw, crystal-blue eyes that peered suspiciously from behind thick lashes. He had a cute dimple in his left cheek and a nice smile, though not a frequent one, and he could effect a powerful scowl. The mustache and goatee gave him a mysterious air; he stroked it as if he wasn’t quite used to it. He was much more rugged than Greg, but then he was a construction worker and he looked like one—jeans and steel-toed boots and a ton of testosterone. She’d seen him wearing the tool belt and even though she’d been around a million tool belts, he’d worn his especially well. He looked, frankly, as if he could tear the door off a car if he needed to.

Leslie had worked around construction workers for the past ten years, and, while they came in all shapes and sizes, there was something about Conner that gave her shivers. She couldn’t put her finger on it. It might be the way he couldn’t seem to lie or cover up; what passed through his brain shot out of his mouth. He thought she was doing the boss and couldn’t just act as if he didn’t notice? She’d been watching him around the job; she couldn’t help it. He would be almost somber until something amused him, and then his face lit up—same reaction, his feelings kind of bubbled to the surface. He couldn’t seem to hide his stunned amusement that a guy would divorce, remarry, knock up his new wife and expect the ex-wife to be okay with it all.
What balls.
Very straightforward.
Uncomplicated.
Yes, that was it—he seemed uncomplicated. After Greg, that was so inviting.

Oh, man, the last thing she needed was to get attracted to some construction worker who was temporary at best.

Then her eyes widened. Maybe the best thing in the world
would be
a temporary construction worker. No expectations. No disappointments. No one to get in the way of her mission to rebuild her confidence and self-esteem.

Conner followed Leslie at a distance so as not to blind her with the headlights of his truck in her rearview mirror. And he thought—boy, was she pissed. That was probably a good thing because he should really get over it, the attraction. He’d been warned by Brie, no relationships during this hiatus.

But the more sense he talked into himself, the more he wanted to get closer to that tough, hardheaded broad. The more he wanted her, in every physical way. Stupid idea. His life was just too
complicated.