Free Bring Me Home for Christmas by Robyn Carr Page A

to be like—it was going to revolve around Doug. Of course. He was the busy one, the important one.
    She sighed. Might be a good idea to cut her losses and shoot for spinsterhood.
    She headed back into the bar. It was more crowded now than it was around the dinner hour. Troy separated himself from his friends and held out a chair at a table near the fire for her. She sat down gratefully and he quickly lifted her leg up onto a second chair, then leaned the crutches against the wall right behind her. “Thanks,” she said. “That’s more work than you’d think.”
    He sat down at the table. A quick glance around told her Denny was not in the room. “Where’s Denny? Did he leave?”
    “Out back,” Troy said, pointing toward the window. “I take it he spends a lot of time helping out around here.”
    She turned and looked out the window. The day was bright and cold and Denny was splitting logs on a tree trunk, stacking up a nice pile of wood for the fireplace. She wondered if he was working off that “I love you” he’d overheard.
    “He said these people are his family,” Becca remarked, watching Denny heft that ax and bring it down. He didn’t wear a jacket and the broadness of his shoulders made her long to be in his arms again. For just a little while. But the best view by far was that perfect butt. She believed he had a better butt than she did.
    “So I hear,” Troy said. “How’s it feeling? The ankle?”
    She looked back at him and gave him a thin smile. “Not so bad. You know what feels worst of all? I haven’t put any makeup on in about twenty-four hours. And I think there might still be mud in my hair.”
    “You don’t need makeup, Becca,” he said. “You look great for someone who took a dive out of Big Richie’s truck.”
    She laughed in spite of herself. “I guess I was in a hurry….”
    Rich and Dirk wandered over to the table and pulled out chairs. “If you’re feeling all right, we’re going to get in a little hunting after lunch,” Rich said.
    She narrowed her eyes at her brother. “By all means,” she said.
    Denny came in the side door with an armload of split logs for the fire. “Don’t worry, Becca, I’ll stick around.” He crouched beside the hearth to stack the wood, ready for the fire.
    “No, you should go. I’ll be fine. Especially if Mrs. Middleton doesn’t mind if I sit in her living room and watch TV.”
    “She’s already offered full use of her house, so I’m sure she won’t mind, but I’ll ask. She’s making up sandwiches right now. What would you like to drink?”
    “How hard is it to get hot chocolate?” Becca asked.
    “It is not hard,” Jack called from behind the bar. “Anything we can do for the infirm!”
    “Your friend Jack is a comedian,” Becca said. When she glanced at Jack, he was smiling appreciatively.
    Within minutes the table was served, family style. A platter of sandwiches, a bowl of chips, a pitcher of cola and mugs, and Becca’s hot chocolate, along with Paige’s assurance that Becca was more than welcome to her couch and ottoman. They all crowded in; with Becca needing that extra chair to elevate her leg, it was a tight squeeze. And of course the ribbing began, starting with the lengths Becca would go to to get out of hunting, followed by the fact that she’d have to stay in Virgin River for over a week before being cleared to travel back home.
    But soon, they were all pushing back chairs and standing to leave. All except Denny.
    “For real, Denny, you can go. I can get around on my crutches.”
    “I don’t know,” he said, frowning, shaking his head. “I told you I’d be around if you needed anything.”
    “Well, I don’t think I’m ready to take on a flight of stairs, but otherwise I can manage, certainly for a few hours. I’m going to go back to the Middletons’ living room and zone out to Oprah or something.”
    “Well…” he said, thinking. “We’ll go out in two trucks and I can come back early. You