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