Somewhere in the night, sounds came from Jack's bed. He was fitful, rolling around, muttering in his sleep. Mel went to the bed, sat on the edge and touched his brow. He grumbled something unintelligible and curled toward her, grabbing her and pulling her into the bed. He rested his head against her. She took his head in the crook of her arm and lay down beside him. "It's okay," she said to him. And he quieted at once, draping an arm over her. She pulled the comforter over them both and snuggled up to him. She sniffed the pillow-Downy. Who was this guy? she found herself asking. Looks like Paul Bunyan, runs a bar, has all these guns, and cleans and launders like Martha Stewart. In his sleep, he pulled her closer. His breath smelled of Scotch. Whew, she thought. She put her face against his hair, which smelled of his musk combined with the wind and trees. She inhaled deeply; she'd already begun to love his particular scent and the taste of his mouth. She had wondered what was under the shirt-a nice mat of brown hair on his chest and a couple of tattoos. On his upper left arm an eagle, globe and anchor, almost as big as her hand. On the upper right, over a ribbon, the words: SAEPE EXPERTUS, SEMPER FIDELIS, FRATRES AETERNI She
( Robyn Carr )
[ Virgin River ]
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