My Kind of Christmas

“Ah, my favorite aunts,” she said. She leaned down to give each of them a kiss on the cheek, telling them the cabin was awesome. She immediately excused herself to go to the bar for more coffee. They might’ve expected her back at their table after she’d gone behind the bar to serve herself. Instead, she paused, took a deep breath and hopped up on a stool right next to Patrick. She imagined that Brie and Mel wouldn’t know how much courage she’d needed to do that. They knew she wasn’t particularly shy, but they couldn’t possibly know how little experience she had with men, especially a man like this—handsome, sexy and out of her age range by at least a few years.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Angie LaCroix.” She put out a hand.

He stared at the hand for a moment, then lifted his gaze to her eyes. And, oh, sweet baby Jesus, he was beautiful. He took her hand in his much larger one. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Just go for it, she thought. Why not? “I thought we should meet, since you look at me like you’re the big bad wolf. And you are…?”

He couldn’t seem to suppress a short laugh. “I bet you know exactly who I am.”

“Ah, yes, Patrick Riordan, the youngest brother of a clan anchored here. Do I have that right?”

“More or less. I have a couple of brothers here and another couple not too far away.”

“Right. So you’re here visiting family?”

“Not exactly. I’m here because one of my brothers has a vacation cabin here and I had some time on my hands. Since the lot of them are planning a Christmas gathering in San Diego, there won’t be a crowd of Riordans here for the holiday. That suits me fine. I wanted a quiet place to hang out for a while. I wasn’t looking for a family reunion, but it’s always good to see a brother or two. Just not too much of them.”

She looked perplexed. “If you want to avoid them, why would you come to their little town?”

“It’s complicated. The Riordans are extremely nosy and opinionated. They gather. They swarm. If I hadn’t come here, they would have come looking for me. All of them. That’s what happens in my family. We can leave one another alone for months at a time but then when something happens, like a brother at some kind of crossroads, accident or crisis, the troops are called in and the wagons are circled. When you’re the one the wagons are circling, it sucks.”

She was silent for a moment. “That’s very grumpy of you.”

“Well, you did ask.”

“You know, we have a little something in common,” she said. “I’m here for a little R and R myself and for a similar but not identical reason. I dropped out of school. I’m not sure I want to pursue my original plan and I need a break. My parents, who are both college professors, are going a little crazy on me. A little distance from them seemed like a good idea. In fact, it was Uncle Jack’s idea.” She grinned at him. “Though I suspect I didn’t get far enough away. My uncle Jack can get a little…intrusive…protective. For example, he suggested I stay away from you.”

“Me? Why? What’s wrong with me?” he asked.

“Apparently you’re scary and dangerous,” she informed him with a sly smile.

“What? Dangerous? Me? Who said that?”

“It was implied,” she admitted. “I’ve been advised by the older men in my life not to get involved with you, but no one has told me exactly why. So, why?”

He chuckled silently and shook his head. “Listen, I’m just here for a few weeks. Maybe you should stay away from me. And you look like you finished school a long time ago. You must be younger than you look.”

“I finished college. It’s a postgrad thing. But… How old do I seem? Because you undress me with your eyes. Skillfully. And at a great distance, too.”

He leaned toward her. “How old are you?”

“Almost twenty-six,” she said, straightening, sitting tall.

“How almost?” he pressed.

She took a breath. “Twenty-three.”

He groaned and looked down, shaking his head. “God. You’re younger than you look.”

“So how old are you?” she asked. “Forty?”

“Hey,” he said. “I’m thirty-three.”

She leaned her head on her hand, elbow braced on the bar. “Had a hard few years or something?”

“Whoa! You’re brutal!”

But Angie was really starting to enjoy this adventurous, flirty side of herself. This was certainly new territory for her, but she suddenly had the urge to explore it. “The way you look at me should at least be considered a misdemeanor. Or a proposal, I’m not sure which. But it didn’t feel that bad and I thought maybe if we talked…”

“What? You thought I’d ask you out on a date or something? Sweetheart, this is Virgin River. If we sit here and talk for even five more minutes, everyone in town will put us together.”

“Let’s take a chance,” she said, amazing herself. But then, she was on a mission. She wanted to know someone who she could relate to. Who could relate to her. And it sure didn’t hurt that Patrick Riordian was smokin’ hot. “Talking isn’t against the law.”

“What if I don’t feel like talking? You don’t want to mess around with the big bad wolf.”

“Do you feel like listening? Because I can always talk. And we have things in common, you and I.”

“I don’t feel like fighting off the vigilantes who’ll come down on me to protect your honor, so I think me going home right now is a better idea.”

At that, Angie smiled so big that Patrick actually leaned back slightly. “So!” she said. “You do like me!”

“How the hell would I know?” he barked at her. “I don’t even know you!”

“Then why do you watch me? Stare at me? Get mad when I suggest we spend a little time talking?”

“Because you’re a cute little sexpot, and while you might be old enough for this flirtation, I can tell you’re way too inexperienced for it, and you have a posse in town looking out for you and I don’t need any trouble! Believe me, I have enough trouble!”

She glanced down at herself. Old jeans with a torn knee, a pair of battered cowboy boots that she’d been attached to for years, khaki canvas jacket and an oversize white sweater—and no makeup.... She looked up at him and laughed. “Sexpot? Jesus! Are you serious?”

He pursed his lips and put his hands in his jacket pockets. “Serious,” he hissed.

“Well, holy shit, if this gets your motor running, I’m not going anywhere!”

“Angie…”

“You should see me when I get dressed up! I can look damn good.”

“Angie…”

“Patrick,” she mimicked.

Suddenly Brie was standing on the inside of the bar holding the coffeepot. She wordlessly refilled their cups without making eye contact and disappeared back to her table. Angie knew they were talking about her. She knew it and didn’t care.

“I have an idea,” Angie said. “Let’s just have a cup of coffee. Then we’ll reassess things. However, I have to warn you, I kind of like that you find me irresistible.”

“Did I say that?” he asked, a slight tint creeping up his stubbled cheeks. “I didn’t say that! I find you completely resistible.”

“Touchy, huh? Maybe you should have something a little stronger than coffee.”