Free My Kind of Christmas by Robyn Carr Page B

think so? Because I make perfect sense to myself.”
    “What do you plan to do?” he asked, a little jealous that he didn’t have a plan of his own. “I mean, right now, after your R and R, what will you do?”
    “I think I’ll get a job and study humanitarian organizations for a while. The downside is I might have to live with my parents while I work and look for the right organization to apply to—and trust me, my mother is going to turn the heat up. She’s always had a plan that she expects me to follow and I’ve been a dissident. It could be very uncomfortable. I’ve given some thought to staying here in Virgin River just to avoid that. Maybe I can work in the bar.”
    “Angie,” he said, serious as a heart attack. “Go back to school. There’s lots of time—don’t rush.”
    “Did anyone ever suggest that you put off flying jets for a while? Until you were sure?”
    “Of course not.”
    “That settles it, in my next life I’m coming back as a guy. I get so bloody sick of people saying, ‘Slow down, little girl, you’re not ready.’ I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She looked at her watch. “It’s getting late. No one’s waiting up for me, but I better get going before you get tired of me.”
    He was afraid he never would.
    She stood up and he stood. She reached for her jacket and he said, “I think I should drive you. Or at least follow you home.”
    “Why?” she said, slipping into her jacket.
    “I’m a little nervous about you going out to an isolated cabin in the woods by yourself.”
    She laughed a little. “Okay, think about this. I just told you I was planning to go dig wells in India or administer immunizations in Africa and you’re worried about me driving fifteen or twenty minutes across the mountain to a lovely little cabin? Relax, Patrick.”
    “What if you miss a couple of turnoffs?” he asked.
    “I know where they are now,” she said. “Take it easy.”
    She walked to his door and he was right behind her. When she opened the door, they were greeted by a fresh snowfall—just a couple of inches.
    She turned back and smiled at him. “I’ll go slow. Try not to act like my uncle Jack.”
    “Wait,” he said. “Wait right here.” He went to the desk in the corner and jotted down the phone number at the cabin. He took her a slip of paper. “You’re going to have to call me. If you don’t, I’ll call Jack and track you down.”
    “I’d scold you for that, but I don’t mind that you’re a little protective. I’d hate a steady diet of overprotective, but that little bit just now wasn’t too bad.
    “Now I’m going to drive slow, then I’m going to build my fire because I haven’t turned the heat on, so it’ll be a while.”
    “Just call.”
    “You bet.” She started to walk toward her SUV, then turned back. “I liked the chili, Patrick. But that isn’t why I came tonight.”
    He smiled at her, watched her leave and thought, I am so screwed .
    * * *
    While he waited for her phone call, Patrick thought about how awesome she was. He couldn’t get involved, but she was a more than welcome distraction. He opened a beer and his mind began to wander. He thought about her beauty, her sexiness. Then he began to pace because she hadn’t called yet, rehearsing what he would say to Jack, how he was going to explain that he needed directions to that little cabin because he had to go looking for her.
    Angela and I had a perfectly nice, platonic evening of Scrabble and chili and I let her drive herself home even though… Yes, Scrabble and chili… No, of course we didn’t have sex.… No, of course I wasn’t tempted, she’s much too young!
    The phone rang before he could rehearse any more mental lies. He grabbed it as if it were a lifeline. “Hello?”
    “That t-took a little longer than I thought it would,” Angie said.
    “Are your teeth chattering?” he asked.
    “A l-l-little. The cabin was so dark—I should’ve left on a light. There was a moon when I