Hidden Summit

calm world, Conner thought. “All couples are going to have issues,” he said. “We just haven’t had any lately.”
    “Somehow I think it’s going to be different with you.”
    “Why is that?”
    “You seem to enjoy the calm as much as I do.”
    He took a swig of beer. “Oh, baby, I do. But that doesn’t mean trouble won’t find me.”
    She just shrugged, happily oblivious. “Well, I guess if something comes up, we’ll play the hand we’re dealt.”
    I can’t put this off much longer, he found himself thinking. Even though he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, he knew he could trust Leslie with his life. He couldn’t help it, he’d wait just a little longer. Because the respite from the hard life was just too good to give up prematurely.
    Jack Sheridan was wiping down the bar at about three-thirty in the afternoon when a man he’d never seen before came in. Nothing unusual in that—people were passing through all the time. But this guy wasn’t the usual—this guy was not a hunter, camper, fisherman or hiker. Not a mountain guy, but more of a Gentlemen’s Quarterly kind of guy. He wore a starched white shirt, open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up. He had pleated pants, fancy loafers and carried a sports coat or blazer or something.
    “Hey,” Jack said amiably.
    “Hi.” He jumped up on a stool. “Beer?”
    “Absolutely. You have a preference?”
    “Not really. Something imported?”
    Jack laughed. “Sure thing,” he said, pulling a Heineken out of the cooler and popping the top. “Glass or bottle?”
    “Chilled glass, please,” the man said. Then he pulled out his cell phone and thumbed through his panel of selections.
    “You’re not going to have a lot of success with that. Our cell reception in town isn’t so good. Down 36 toward Fortuna it gets better. I have a landline, if that would help.”
    “Do you mind? I have to call my wife.”
    “In the kitchen, help yourself. Don’t let the cook scare you.” The man froze. “Kidding,” Jack said with a wry smile. “He looks a little scary, but he’s a pussycat. Honest.”
    With a slight hesitation, he made his way to the kitchen. In just a couple of minutes he was back, and within seconds, Preacher was tailing him standing behind the bar next to Jack. Preacher’s white apron was a mess today, which made him look slightly scarier than usual, plus he was frowning darkly. It took Jack only a few seconds to decide Preacher hadn’t liked what he’d overheard the man saying on the phone or he wouldn’t be here.
    Jack poured himself a cup of coffee and a seltzer for Preacher.
    “So, I’m Jack. Passing through?”
    The man immediately put out his hand, which was very soft and pretty. “Greg,” he said. “Yes, just here for an hour or so.”
    “What kind of mission brings a man to Virgin River for an hour? Buying property for someone?” Because, surely not for himself.
    “Well, not that it’s any of your business, but I want to talk to my wife. Ex-wife. She lives here. We have a couple of things to discuss and I thought a public place might be more agreeable to her than having me drop in on her. Unannounced.”
    “Excellent idea,” Jack said.
    Preacher crossed his arms over his chest. He glowered.
    “She’ll be stopping by?” Jack asked.
    “Hard to say,” Greg said. “We were disconnected.”
    “Ah,” Jack said. That was fancy-man talk for she hung up on me. “Anyone I know?”
    The man tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. Then he shot a quick glance at Preacher. He cleared his throat. “Leslie Adams.” He cleared his throat again. “Petruso. Leslie Petruso.”
    “Ah, Leslie,” Jack said, grinning. “Sure. Good friend of ours, right, Preach?”
    Preacher glared at the guy briefly, then turned and went back to the kitchen.
    Now Jack wasn’t a genius, but he knew Preacher. This guy, Greg, must have said something ungentlemanly to Leslie to warrant Preacher following him back into the bar. And of course Jack knew this was the guy Leslie had nailed with the fire extinguisher. Jack would’ve paid to see that.
    “Leslie’s well liked around here, as you might guess,” Jack said.
    “She’s well liked everywhere,” he said. “I’ve been a little worried about her since she’s been down here. Alone.”
    “She’s not alone, my friend. Paul Haggerty looks out for her, as do others. She seems to be getting along very well.”
    “I heard she’s seeing someone,” Greg said. “I wonder, do you