LITMIR.BIZ

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or maybe just replaced.

      But first, the amount of trash hauling and pest removal was going to be a giant pain in the butt. At least this was work he could do, with the help of an exterminator. He’d inspect the roof later.

      He walked out of the house and pried open the door to the first cabin. More of the same. The furniture was rotting, the floor was covered with debris. The cabins were all one-room efficiencies that hadn’t been used in years, so the small stoves and bar-size refrigerators were outdated and probably didn’t work. He was good with wood and paint, but he didn’t trust himself with gas and electricity. He was looking at six empty cabins, all in need of new hot-water heaters, stoves, refrigerators and furniture. He’d have to get up on the roofs and see how they had held up through the years, but from where he stood, it looked as though the shingles were mostly missing or rotting. And the wood on the outside of the cabins, all in need of scraping, sanding and painting. Every window would have to be replaced.

      He did a mental calculation. It was nearly September. From January to June, before the summer people came for camping and hiking, things were slow and wet around this part of the world. If he could get the house and cabins in shape by spring, he could put them on the market or open them up for rent to vacationers. If it turned out he was bored with the mountains by then, he’d lock the whole business up and make tracks to either San Diego, where his brother Aiden was stationed and there was plenty of beach and swimsuits, or to Phoenix, where his widowed mother lived and would be forever grateful for his presence. He could always chase a flying job if he wanted to.

      He unhooked the camper from the truck, unloaded his Harley from the truck bed and parked it up on its stand in front of the house. He grabbed a pair of work gloves, broom and shovel from the bed of the truck, got his toolbox out of the trailer and began scooping out the house. He could at least fill the back of the trunk with trash and, on his way to Eureka to have the utilities turned on, hire an exterminator and rent a big Dumpster; he could also dispose of a big load at the dump.

      By noon he had a huge pile of trash in front of the porch. He got to work on loading the trash into the back of the pickup. The bright afternoon sun had warmed up the air and he was sweating like a farmhand, so he took off his shirt. He was just hefting a big three-legged overstuffed chair into the back of the truck when he spotted her. Holding it over his head, he froze.

      She was sitting in the clearing astride a big American paint. She smiled at him. Pure, innocent honey. Luke couldn’t move. The horse was beautiful, at least fifteen hands. She was wearing khaki shorts, rolled up high on her tanned thighs, a pair of what appeared to be laced hiking boots with white socks rolled over the tops, a white short-sleeved T-shirt and a khaki fishing vest. With that long, pale blond braid down her back and a Stetson on her head, she could be fifteen, tiny and built solid. The thought that she looked like a statutory offense came instantly to mind and he felt every day of his thirty-eight years.

      The horse danced and pawed at the ground, snorted and reared his head, but this little girl in the saddle didn’t even notice. She handled him with ease and finesse.

      “I just had to see this for myself,” she said. “You’re doing it. You’re at work on this mess. Wow,” she laughed. “Looks like you’re going to be busy.”

      He tossed the chair in the back of the truck and took a rag out of his pocket to mop his sweating face. “Maybe you can’t see the potential here,” he said. “I’m going to impress you, in that case.”

      “I’m already impressed,” she said. “It looks like a monumental job. Where I grew up, there were a bunch of old cabins just like this, out on the beach. I was a teenager. They were almost never in use and the local kids used to sneak in. To smoke pot and…other stuff. Then one day they were gone. Razed.”

      “When you were a teenager,” he said, shoving the rag back into his pocket. “Last week?”

      “Hey,” she laughed. “I’m talking ten years ago.”

      “In which case, you don’t age.”

      “Why don’t you just ask?” she challenged him.

      “Okay. How old are you? Exactly?”

      “Twenty-five. And you?”

      “One hundred and ten.”

      She laughed again. When she did, she threw her head back and that braid rippled down her back. “Yeah, I thought you were probably really old. How old?”

      “Thirty-eight. Pretty well out of your range.”

      “That depends,” she said with a shrug.

      “On?”

      “On whether I have a range.”

      Oh God, he thought weakly. She liked him. Not a little teasing, but private flirting, just between the two of them. Luke was a man with few scruples and even less control. It wasn’t a good idea for her to do this. She was too alluring for her own good. “You’re pretty good with that horse. He’s a beautiful paint.”

      “Chico,” she told him. “All little boy. Uncle Walt adopted him as colt—you’d think he’d be better behaved. You know your horses.”

      “I’ve flown over a lot of horses running wild in the desert. Incredible creatures.”

      “You ride?” she asked.

      “Haven’t been on a horse in years.”

      “You fish?” she asked.

      “When I get a chance. You hunt?”

      “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d never shoot anything. But I shoot skeet, and I’m good, too. Lately I garden and babysit. And I read a lot.”

      “What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping toward her.

      “In Virgin River? I came to spend some time with my family for a while before going back to school. Uncle Walt, Vanessa and Paul, my cousin Tom—he’s at basic training, soon to have leave—they’re my family.”

      “No,” he said, smiling. “Here. Checking me out.”

      “Get over yourself, I’m checking out the cabins,” she said, returning the smile. “I rode here a few times last summer. I really thought these cabins would disappear someday. Wouldn’t it be easier to build new ones?”

      “It might be easier, but it wouldn’t be cheaper. And I was looking for something to do.”

      “Why? You get fired from your job or something?”

      “I retired from the army.”

      Her eyebrows shot up. “Like my uncle!”

      “No, not like your uncle. Like a warrant officer, helicopter pilot. Jack said your uncle is a retired three-star. A whole different thing, kid.”

      She grinned at him, but her cheeks took on a little flush. “Just remember, he’s retired. He really isn’t in charge anymore.”

      He took note of the pinkened cheeks. She wanted to do this, obviously, this flirting. But it wasn’t natural for her, he could see that. He could make it easier for her. He knew how to calm a woman down, put her at ease. In fact, he enjoyed it.

      He was having an attack of pure lust and he told himself to nip it in the bud. She said twenty-five, but he thought there was a good chance in any bar other than Jack’s, she’d be carded. He grabbed his shirt off the porch railing to shrug into it.

      “You don’t have to do that,” she said. “Not for me—I’m not staying. Just dropping by to see your project, that’s all. I was in the neighborhood.”

      He chuckled and pulled on the shirt, but he left it unbuttoned. “Yeah. We’re neighbors,” he said, smiling up at her. “I should be getting back to work, unless there’s something you need.”

      “Nah,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you at Jack’s.”

      “Only

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