Hidden Summit

Leslie and her neighbors than the idea of him being released.
    But of course, she must have missed a call from Conner while she was out, taking the pulse of the neighborhood. She just hoped he would have time to call before he began the five-hour drive from Redding to Sacramento.
    It was ten at night, and when she still hadn’t heard from him, she started to imagine flight delays or even canceled flights. Then there was a knock at her locked door, and her first thoughts returned to the night before. She didn’t have a peephole; the kinds of precautions a person would take even in a city the size of Grants Pass had never crossed her mind since being in Virgin River.
    “Who is it?” she asked the locked door.
    “It’s me, Les,” Conner said.
    Stunned, she threw open the door and was instantly in his arms.
    He just held her close and in great relief for a minute, then slowly pulled away to look at her. He ran a knuckle across her bruised jaw.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked him.
    “I couldn’t go to Sacramento without seeing you, without making sure you’re all right. You made the injuries sound like nothing. This is something.”
    “We’re very proud of our bruises,” she said. “They’re badges of honor. How long are you staying here?”
    “Till early morning.”
    “Aren’t you supposed to be there by morning?” she asked.
    “I think they’ll wait for me.” And then he pressed his lips gently against the corner of her mouth, opposite the bruise. “Goddamn, Les. It’s killing me that you got hurt.”
    She smiled at him. “You have a lot of people you try to take care of, don’t you? I told you, I’m fine. We’re all fine. What about Katie? Is she all right?”
    “I think so. As of right now, she wants to stay there. She thinks she’s cultivating something with the dentist, but I don’t know about that. I don’t know how long she’ll last. He seems kind of…” He shrugged. “He’s very nice. He likes Katie and the boys. But something’s missing.” He bent his head to gently kiss her again, careful not to be rough. “Nothing is missing for me, though. Let me lay down with you, let me just hold you.”
    She smiled at him. “I don’t think I really got it until now. You were responsible for your sister from such an early age—it’s natural for you to be a caretaker. I’m not used to that.”
    She took his hand and led him to the bedroom; she pulled him down beside her. He sat to take off his boots and then pulled her into his arms. It felt so good, so safe to be with him like this.
    When she was young, her parents had looked out for her. When she married and left their house, she became the caretaker. For a long time, she was the protector, the supporter. It was a brand-new experience to have a man like Conner, so responsible and protective that he’d drive hours out of his way to be sure she was all right.

Eighteen
    C onner woke Leslie with a gentle nudge at about four-thirty in the morning. “I have to start driving,” he whispered.
    “The sooner you just get it behind you, the sooner you’re done with it. And when you come back here after the trial is over, are you going back to that little cabin? Or will you stay with me?”
    He gave a nod and nuzzled her neck. “You’re going to have a hard time getting rid of me.”
    “Do you think that someday we’ll actually be able to lay down on a bed together and not make love?”
    “Maybe someday. Not soon.”
    “Get in the shower, Conner,” she said. “I’ll get a pot of coffee going. You need to get on your way. And thank you. Even if it’s just a few hours with you, it means everything to me.”
    Almost an hour later, he reluctantly left her at her front door and began his drive to Sacramento. Once he reached Clear Lake he phoned Max at the D.A.’s office and told them he was running a little late, but en route.
    By ten he was walking into the district attorney’s complex. Max came out of his office to meet him in the reception area and escort him in.
    Even though Max—Ray Maxwell, officially—had caused him a lot of personal complications by relying on him to testify in this trial, Conner liked the guy. He was young for a D.A.—under fifty—and no question about it, he was decent and honest. Judging the pictures in his office, he was also a happily married father of two. Conner could sense a certain commanding nature in Max, accentuated by his dark hair barely touched by silver at the temples, but