Free Virgin River by Robyn Carr

if she were a feather bed. Then he told her what he always made sure women understood about him—that he was not the kind of man who could ever be tied down to a woman, and if she began to have those designs, he’d be gone.
    “What makes you think all women want to be run by some man?” she had asked. “I just got rid of one.Not about to get myself hooked up to another one.” Then she smiled and said, “Just the same, everyone gets a little lonely sometimes.”
    They started an affair that had sustained Jack for a couple of years now. Jack didn’t see her that often—every week, maybe couple of weeks. Sometimes a month would go by. He wasn’t sure what she did when he wasn’t around—maybe there were other men—though he’d never seen any evidence of that. He never caught her making time in the bar with anyone else; never saw any men’s things around her house. He kept a box of condoms in her bedside drawer that didn’t disappear on him, and he’d let it slip that he liked being the only man she entertained.
    As for Jack—he had a personal ethic about one woman at a time. Sometimes that woman could last a year, sometimes a night—but he didn’t have a collection he roved between. Although he wasn’t exactly breaking that rule tonight, he wasn’t quite sticking to it, either.
    He never spent the night in Clear River and Charmaine was not invited to Virgin River. She had only called him and asked him to come to her twice—and it seemed a small thing to ask. After all, he wasn’t the only one who needed to be with someone once in a while.
    He liked that when he walked in the tavern and she saw him, it showed all over her that she was happy he’d come. He suspected she had stronger feelings for him than she let show. He owed her—she’d been a real sport about it—but he knew he’d have to leave the relationship before it got any more entangled. So sometimes, to demonstrate he had a few gentlemanly skills, he’d drop in for just a beer. Sometimes he’d bring her something, like a scarf or earrings.
    He sat down at the bar and she brought him a beer. She fluffed her hair; she was a big blonde. Bleached blonde. At about five foot eight, she’d kept her figure, mostly. He didn’t know her exact age, but he suspected late forties, early fifties. She always wore very tight-fitting clothes and tops that accentuated her full breasts. At first sight you’d think—cheap. Not so much tawdry or low-class as simple. Unrefined. But once you got to know Charmaine and how kind and deep down earnest she was, those thoughts fled. Jack imagined that in younger years she was quite the looker with her ample chest and full lips. She hadn’t really lost those good looks, but she had a little extra weight around the hips and there were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.
    “Hiya, bub,” she said. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
    “It’s only been a couple of weeks, I think.”
    “More like four.”
    “How’ve you been?” he asked.
    “Busy. Working. Went over to Eureka to see my daughter last week. She’s having herself a lousy marriage—but what should we expect? I raised her in one.”
    “She getting divorced?” he asked politely, though in truth he didn’t care that much. He didn’t know her kids.
    “No. But she should. Let me get this table. I’ll be back.”
    She left him to make sure the other customers were served. There were only a few and once Jack showed up the owner, Butch, knew that Charmaine would want to leave a little early. He saw her take a tray of glasses back behind the bar and talk quietly with her boss, who nodded. Then Charmaine was back.
    “I just wanted to have a beer and say hello,” Jack said. “Then I have to get back. I have a big project going on.”
    “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
    “I’m fixing up a cabin for one of the women in town. I put on a new porch today and tomorrow I’m going to paint it and build back steps.”
    “That so? Pretty woman?”
    “I