Bring Me Home for Christmas

“We’ve got Riordan cabins on the river and my guesthouse is available—plenty of room. We have duck hunting, fishing and Preacher always serves a big Thanksgiving dinner at the bar. The day after Thanksgiving, we go out into the woods to chop down a thirty-foot Christmas tree to put outside the bar—that’s a circus you don’t want to miss.”
    So the plans were set. Troy, Dirk and Rich were due to arrive on the Sunday before Thanksgiving and depart a week later.
    Denny had had a few rough years before settling in Virgin River—his mother had died, he reentered the Corps and was deployed to Afghanistan, he broke up with Becca after they’d been together for over three years—but finally, at the age of twenty-five, things were finally falling into place for him. Life was good. He was happy.

    Troy and Dirk arrived by four o’clock on Sunday afternoon. Denny was on hand at the bar to greet them and serve them up a beer, and both Jack and Preacher made a point to be around. Dirk and Troy were going to stay in one of Luke Riordan’s cabins, so Luke and Colin Riordan dropped by for a quick beer to be part of the welcoming party. Preacher had a hearty meal planned, but since it was the Sunday night before a big family holiday week like Thanksgiving, there weren’t too many out-of-towners in the bar—just four hunters over in the corner at the table by the hearth, enjoying a pitcher of beer.
    They practically had the place to themselves.
    Finally the door to the bar opened and Big Richie stepped inside. He stood just inside the entrance wearing a look on his face that Denny could describe only as apologetic. Then she stepped inside, right behind him.
    Becca!
    What the hell? Denny stood behind the bar, next to Jack, his mouth hanging open. She lifted her chin and smiled at the gathering.
    Rich gave a lame shrug.
    God, she sure hadn’t gotten any worse looking, Denny thought. Five-seven, slim, large blue eyes. Her sun-streaked hair was pulled back in a clip that left it flouncing in large, loose curls on the back of her head with little wisps around her face. She was tanned, of course. She was a beach bunny. The memory of how she looked in a very tiny bikini came instantly to Denny’s mind, although those long legs and perfect butt sure did justice to a pair of jeans and boots.
    He was in a complete daze. Except for the physical response. He was so glad he was standing behind the bar.
    Smiling, she walked around her brother and approached the bar. She barely looked at Denny. “Hi,” she said, putting out her hand first to Troy. “I’m Becca, Rich’s sister. I hope I’m not intruding.”
    Dirk and Troy knew of Becca, but they’d never actually met her. Troy took her hand and a smile slid slowly across his face. “Not. At. All,” he said smoothly.
    She grinned at him as he hung on to her hand. “Bet you have a name,” she said.
    “Ah…yeah… I’ll think of it in a second….”
    “Troy,” Denny said impatiently. “His name is Troy.”
    “Nice to meet you, Troy.” She offered her hand to Dirk.
    “Dirk Curtis,” he said. “Nice to finally meet you.”
    “Becca, what are you doing here?” Denny asked.
    She lifted one shoulder and tilted her head. “Well, I guess it’s going to be either duck hunting or fly-fishing—two things I’ve been dying to try. I need to expand my horizons a little bit. Thanks for including me.”
    “I didn’t include you.”
    “Rich said it would probably be okay, and thanks.” She looked between Dirk and Troy. “You guys don’t mind, do you?”
    “It’s a pleasure,” Dirk said.
    Troy leaned an elbow on the bar, his head on his hand. “I take it you don’t hunt or fish?”
    “She surfs,” Denny said sharply, glowering.
    “And I sail, among other things,” she added pleasantly. “If you guys show me the hunting and fishing ropes, I’ll be glad to teach you to surf—I’m much better at it than Rich, although he might be a slightly better sailor. Don’t do anything different because I’m along—I’m just one of the guys on this trip. I promise not to get in the way.”
    “Right,” Denny said.
    “Seriously,” she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him.
    “You’re going to be sorry you said that when one of these clowns decides to pee on a bush,” he said snidely, lifting one eyebrow.
    A bark of laughter came from Colin Riordan, which marked the first time Denny remembered there were others present. Just a second after Colin’s laugh, a