Bring Me Home for Christmas - By Robyn Carr Page 0,37
this?”
“Only the most manly of men,” Jack shouted from behind the bar.
“Yeah,” the fishermen called out, lifting their ale toward him.
“Oh, brother,” she said, sipping her beer.
“Tomorrow morning, we have to stay out of the way so Preacher can concentrate on cooking. Big holiday dinners get him all revved up,” Denny said. “So, after breakfast we’re going out to the river for a little while, do a little more fishing. We’ll take you with us. You can stay in the truck with a thermos of hot cocoa or something.”
“That’s okay. I can borrow a book from Paige and just stay in your room….”
He grinned at her. “You should come, Becca. It’s fun to watch. And Jack says a lot of men are told to get out of the house on Thanksgiving morning so their wives can cook. The river could be full of action.”
“Well…”
“You’ll come. It’s settled.”
They ate beef-and-barley soup with soft, warm bread and apple pie for dinner. Then Becca did borrow that book, but only for something to read before sleep. Jack and Preacher closed up a little early, but Denny had his own set of keys and after getting Becca safely up the stairs to his apartment, he went back to the bar for some cards with his boys. Becca didn’t feel the least bit left out. If there was anything that seemed less intriguing than watching men fish, it was watching them play poker. What she hadn’t been prepared for was how much the kids had worn her out. Before this broken ankle, she could match the little ones for energy, but she was asleep before turning a half dozen pages on her borrowed paperback.
She had no idea when Denny returned to the room, but the sun was lighting the sky when he woke her.
“I made some coffee,” he said. “You can take your time getting dressed. I have to run out to the Riordan cabins to pick up the boys for breakfast.”
“Huh?” she asked, sitting up a little.
He ran a hand over the top of his head. “Preacher took ’em all out to the cabins. Your brother bunked in with them so Preacher wouldn’t have to drive all over the mountains. Fortunately, I could walk home.”
“But why did Preacher have to drive…”
“There was some serious drinking going on.”
She sat up in bed. “But couldn’t you have driven them?” she stupidly asked.
“No. We were pretty much equally drunk. Now we can check that one off—Got Drunk With Friends. I have a headache.”
“And you want to go fishing?”
“Don’t want to so much as have to. You never let a stupid night interrupt your plans for the next day. He who gives in is wearing panties…”
She put her hand over her mouth but giggled just the same.
“Enjoy your coffee, get dressed, and I’ll come back for you.”
“Sure,” she said. But what she thought was, I’ll get myself down the stairs! She took a brief sponge bath, promising herself a legitimate grooming before sitting down to the turkey dinner later. Then she dressed warmly and made her way down the street to the bar, beating Denny and the boys there. When she got inside, she saw only a few men, who appeared to be finishing their breakfast, and Preacher, who was behind the bar. “Morning,” she said. “I heard you were commissioned to drive late last night.”
“Wasn’t all that late,” he said with a shrug. “They’re young candy-asses. Don’t know anything about pacing themselves.” Then he actually smiled and Becca realized for the first time that a smile was unusual for this big man unless something amused him a great deal.
“Not very busy this morning?”
“Not on Thanksgiving. We stay open regular hours, but there isn’t usually much business. Anyone who wanders in here after two in the afternoon is forced to join us for turkey. No one pays or leaves my bar hungry on this day.”
She smiled at him. “That doesn’t surprise me. Where’s Jack?”
“He’ll come in a little later. The kids will nap and play in my house while we’re getting ready for a big crowd out here.”
“Do you need me to help?” she asked.
Again the smile. “No, Becca. I think I need you to have some breakfast. I hear you’re going out to the river with them.”
“Denny insists.”
“You won’t regret it. Let me bring you something to eat. Eggs, just about any way you want. Cereal. Toast. Bacon. I’m not making pancakes today….”
“A couple of eggs, scrambled, bacon, toast. And thank you.”