She smiled at him. “We’re going to worry about this later,” she said. “Because right now I’m na**d, happy, and in no mood to overthink anything.”

“Good plan,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “It must have been twenty minutes…” He moved his hips; he moved inside her.

“Not even close,” she told him.

“Close enough,” he said, rocking inside her, filling her again.

Kelly wanted the night with her man to never end. She learned that he could be so many things—slow and deliberate, a little wild and crazy, playful, serious. Not only did he touch every part of her body, he touched her heart. Her emotions.

After about three hours in bed, they shared a shower and went back to bed, lying quietly and close, talking. Sometime around eleven they heard distant voices downstairs and finally the closing of Jill and Colin’s bedroom door. Just after midnight Kelly and Lief dressed, or mostly dressed. Lief pulled on his jeans and socks, leaving his shirt open, and Kelly wore leggings and an extra-long sweater. They crept downstairs to the kitchen. Lief lit candles on the table, and Kelly pulled out the uneaten dessert—her best tiramisu. They sat at the table, their chairs facing. Lief pulled her legs over his thighs, and in the candlelight, they fed each other bites of tiramisu. There were still embers in the hearth from hours ago, and they could see the starlight in the clear November sky on the horizon over the trees.

“Do you miss the city?” he asked her.

“Not at all,” she said, shaking her head. “Especially when I look at that sky. The last couple of days I spent there, I realized I hated my apartment and my job. I love San Francisco, but I can go back there anytime. For a visit, at least. Do you? Miss the city?”

He shook his head. “I was always a little out of place there. I’m more comfortable in a place like this. I’m happier around fields, streams and trees than freeways and high-rises.”

“But your work…”

“There are people in L.A. I have to work with from time to time, the agents, producers, etcetera. But I can write anywhere.”

“Are you working at all?” she asked him.

“Barely. I’ve been sketching, outlining, making notes. It’s not much of anything. The hardest work I do looks like fishing. Typing isn’t the hard part, it’s thinking.” He fed her another bite. “I want to spend every minute with you,” he said. “And I can’t.”

“I know.”

“I have to move slowly with Courtney… I have to set an example. I don’t want her to get the impression it’s all right for her to have wild sex whenever she feels like it.”

“But it’s all right for you?” she teased.

“It’s actually healthy for me,” he said with a smile. “And when she’s forty-two, she can do anything she wants. But right now, one day at a time.”

“If you aren’t careful, she’s going to wear black lipstick and dye her hair seven different colors…”

“I hear that happens. And there’s another thing—holidays are coming up. I’d like to spend them with you, but I think for Thanksgiving I’d better take Courtney home to my family in Idaho—a visit before Spike comes to live with us. She hasn’t seen them in a long time, and I’ll be honest, I’m anxious for them to see her looking normal. I’d like to take you with me, but I’m afraid it’s too soon…”

“I understand, Lief. I’m a big girl.”

“You might be the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time. Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course I understand. Now, since you’re going to be unavailable most of the time, take me back to bed and be the best thing that’s happened to me in about an hour.”

“My pleasure,” he said, standing and reaching for her hand.

Life felt brand-new to Kelly. Like a couple of bad kids, they stole moments alone at Lief’s house while Courtney was in school or at her friend’s house. They hadn’t scored another whole night together, but there was no mistaking a new glow in his eyes and the satisfied flush on her cheeks.

Time in the kitchen was much more pleasurable for Kelly during the November wet and cold. She kept the kitchen hearth blazing and the stove or ovens running. The county health inspector had visited, passed her with flying colors, and now it was just down to paperwork—her official permits would arrive by mail soon. She had stacked crates of her specialty sauces, relishes and chutneys in the unfurnished dining room, and now, while it drizzled outside, she was indulging her favorite pastime of baking breads and rolls, some of which she would give away and some that would be frozen.

Colin had her labels printed for her, and she added business cards to the supplies. Jillian, a former PR executive, put together a four-color brochure, and Kelly set about the task of making a list of people she could send some complimentary jars to. There were about a dozen stores and delis in the general area that she would hand-deliver her goods to. There were also shops and restaurants in the Bay Area where she was a known chef. She thought they would be receptive to the gift and might even wish to order more. While her bread baked, she boxed up packages for delivery or shipping.

During this time of year, Virgin River exploded with duck hunters, and one of them was Lief Holbrook. He wanted to go out a couple of times with Muriel and Walt and had invited Courtney to come along. “Ewww,” she said. So Kelly generously offered to be Courtney’s go-to girl while Lief squatted behind a bush at river’s edge with a duck whistle in his pocket.

“It’s not like I need a babysitter,” she said indignantly.

“Of course you don’t, but you might need a ride somewhere or something to occupy your time after school. You can help me bake bread if you want to—it’s fun.”

“Whatever,” came the inevitable reply.

“Or you can watch TV or watch Colin paint or maybe even drive the garden mobile for Jillian, who works rain or shine.”

“That sounds a lot more interesting than bread,” she said.

And Kelly thought, It’s going to be a long, long courtship!

“Are you sure?” Lief whispered to her when Courtney was out of earshot.

“Maybe if I actually spend a little time alone with her, things will improve between us.”

“You do understand that it’s not about you, right?”

“Are you sure? Maybe she just doesn’t like me. I don’t claim to have any instincts about kids, especially teenagers.”

“Trust me,” he said. “It’s all about her. As much trouble as she gives me, I think it makes her nervous to think about sharing me. Plus there’s likely a little bit of her being afraid her mother will be replaced or forgotten.”

“We’ll work it out,” Kelly said, though she wasn’t all that optimistic.

“If I get lucky, do you want a duck?”

That made her smile. “You would not believe what I can do with a duck.”

On the day Kelly picked Courtney up from school and brought her out to the Victorian, it was drizzling—great weather for ducks. So Courtney wasn’t real interested in driving around in the garden mobile. She went upstairs to the sunroom to see what Colin was painting, and Kelly started on more bread—she was doing a few glazed, twisted French loaves.

She was into the kneading when Courtney came down to the kitchen. She pulled up a chair at the work island and watched.

“Want some dough?” Kelly asked.

She shrugged. “Sure. I guess.”

“I’m making a few loaves that look like a braid.” She separated some dough, sprinkled a little flour on the island in front of Courtney and handed her the dough. “When I baked bread at the restaurant, which was pretty rare for me, I could make as many as a hundred loaves. We usually had our bread delivered from our favorite bakery, but now and then we did it ourselves. I love making bread. Lots of things in the kitchen smell good, but almost nothing beats bread baking.”

The whole bread-baking thing obviously didn’t interest Courtney because she asked, “What do you like about my dad?”

Kelly’s eyes snapped up. Courtney was kneading away at her ball of dough, not looking at Kelly. “I…ah… Well, he’s a very nice man. What do you like about him?”

“Me?” Courtney asked. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s just the two of us, anyway.”

“You must know what you like,” Kelly prompted.

“He’s pretty nice, sometimes. But he’s strict with me and he can’t be strict with you. But if you get married and have kids, you might not like how strict he is with them.”

That caused Kelly to stop kneading. “Um, a thought like that has never once crossed my mind.”

“About how strict he might be with your kids?” Courtney asked.

“About getting married and having them!”

“Oh. You’ll probably think of it pretty soon. My real dad did that—got married, had a couple of kids.”

“Seriously, Courtney—never crossed my mind. Not once.”

“Well, what did cross your mind?”

God, Kelly thought. Talk about baptism by fire. “Well, let’s see. I thought, what a nice guy that Lief Holbrook is. And handsome, too. And very talented— I watched one of his movies so far but it made me cry so much I haven’t watched another one.”

“Deerslayer,” she supplied. “My mom loved that movie.”

“Well, I was impressed, but I cried my eyes out.”

“What else?” Courtney asked. “About my dad? Do you like that he’s rich?”

“He’s rich?” Kelly asked.

“Well, duh.”

“I guess I never thought of that,” she said. “Well, I’ve been friends with rich guys before. I didn’t steal their money and run.” She grinned.

“Well, then, what else?”

“I don’t know. He can make me laugh—he’s funny. That’s a big plus. And I’m a chef and I think today he’s going to bring me a duck.”

“Gross,” she said.

“I won’t make you eat it,” she said, laughing in spite of herself. “I’ll fix you a hot dog.”

“I don’t even want to see it!”

“Well, I might have to cook it when you’re not staying for dinner then,” she said.

“Are you going to pluck it?”

“Of course I will. I know how to clean a duck, goose, hen, capon, squab, turkey, pheasant—”

“All right, I get it…”

“Quail,” she added. “Anything on webbed or three-toed feet, but I rarely had to. I had a fantastic butcher that specialized in fowl. Besides, hunters are usually responsible for prepping their game. I’m assuming your dad is going to pluck.”

And then Kelly concentrated on rolling out three long strips. She was aware that Courtney watched her. She tried to slow her hands down as she braided the strips, on the off chance Courtney wanted to copy her movements. Then she wiped her baking sheet with a thin coat of butter, brushed the top of her loaf with a little beaten egg and put it aside to do the next.

She glanced at Courtney’s project. A little uneven, but by all accounts, not bad. “Nice,” Kelly said. “Want me to bake it and send it home with you?”

Courtney looked up. “Do you get that I don’t want a mother?”

Well. Kelly couldn’t help it, she smiled. “Would you like a baseball bat to say that with?”

“Honestly,” Courtney said.

“I do get that. You will always and forever have only one mother, Courtney. And I’m very sorry for your loss. I lost my mother when I was young. I understand it’s not easy.”

“Did your father marry someone else then? And have kids?”

Oh, Kelly felt very bad about this. But there was no way around the truth. “My father died first. When I was six.”

“Oh.”

“There was an accident. We were all in it—me, Jillian, our parents. Jillian and I weren’t hurt. My father was killed and my mother was paralyzed and was in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. When I was sixteen, she passed away. We were raised by our great-grandmother, who was quite elderly when she took us in. And when I was twenty-five, my great-grandmother passed, but she was very, very old. She lived to her nineties.”

Courtney was quiet for a long, clumsy moment. “Yes, I’d like to bake the loaf and take it home.”

“Absolutely,” Kelly said. “You’re going to love it.”

Eleven

Two days after the baking and hunting, Courtney spent a little time with Jerry Powell. It was her regular weekly appointment. She found it so strange that when Lief told her she was looking great, she figured he was just screwing with her, that what he really meant was that she was looking normal. When Kelly and Jillian said it, they were just sucking up. When Gabe Tahoma said it, she felt like a cute little girl, not on par with someone he would want for a girlfriend. But for some reason when Jerry Powell told her she was looking good, it mattered. And she believed him.

“Well, you look older, that’s for sure,” he said.

“I’d like to look taller,” she said.

He chuckled and said, “I’d like to look just a little shorter. How’s life been treating you lately?”

She shrugged. “I’m not suicidal.”

“I love the way you throw me these freebies, Courtney. And I’m very happy about that. Does that mean you’re marginally happy?”