to that. You’ll have everything you need, except the washer and dryer, but you’re welcome to borrow ours anytime. And the shower is smaller. If you drop the soap, you’re in trouble. You’ll have to step out to pick it up.”
Dylan laughed, but what really tickled his good humor was the fact that he’d been getting most of his showers at a little cabin in the woods the past week.
Any other woman would have extracted some kind of statement from him, some sort of lame commitment or expression of affection. But not Katie. He’d been in Virgin River for almost a month, the first four days of it having been with his boys on a ride. And it wasn’t easy dating a woman with kids. She called the shots. She saw him during the day while the boys were at their summer program, and if she saw him evenings or on weekends, they were busy doing things with the family. He’d been to an animated kids’ movie, the kind where you get a red Slurpee spilled right in your lap, popcorn down your shirt and gum in your hair, not to mention the headache that follows. They had dinner at her cabin, dinner at McDonald’s, and burgers on the grill at her brother’s house. He’d played catch, did a little fishing without catching and had learned video games. All this so he could get laid when the kids weren’t home. He had never, not even as a teenager, traded so much of his soul for the affection of a woman.
Katie’s brother had stopped scowling so much and was working on getting to know him.
“What will you do if the charter business goes under?” Conner asked.
“There’s more to a fixed base operation than charters, but that was the big moneymaker, and that’s the part of the business that’s suffering the most. We still have aircraft storage, maintenance, instruction, et cetera. My partner is managing all that while I hang out here trying to—”
“Trying to decide how much you like my sister?” he asked.
“Aw, it’s not really like that, Conner. There’s no question about how much I like your sister. It’s just that…we’re good friends. And don’t worry about Katie or the boys—we’re very responsible. Nothing inappropriate going on there—when we’re all under the same roof, it’s all good and proper.”
“So she says…”
“I have a potential job in Los Angeles. I’m waiting to hear more about that, then I’ll have to go down there. I’d rather live and work in Montana, but through no fault of anyone’s, that might be out of reach at the moment.” He laughed lightly. “Lang, my partner, is expecting a slow exodus of our employees from the company—pilots, instructors, maintenance—until we’re down to just a few. So I should think about getting a paycheck. But I hate the city.”
“I can relate,” he said.
“But you always lived in the city, worked in the city,” Dylan said.
“And was mad as hell at the circumstances that moved me to this little town…till I got to know this little town. Over the course of a couple of months I realized I didn’t just want a different location, I wanted a different kind of life. A slower, simpler, more balanced kind of life. So how do you know you won’t enjoy flying out of Los Angeles? Maybe it’ll work out.”
Of course, Conner assumed it was a flying job. The only thing Dylan had told him about himself was that he was a pilot and instructor. To his amazement, Leslie must not have said anything. Girls usually liked to brag about a Dylan sighting… “I’m sure it’ll work out one way or another and as much as I like kicking back here, I’m going to have to go check it out. But there is something I’d kind of like to do before I go—I’ve been thinking about that jungle gym we put up for the school…why don’t we drive over to Eureka and get a smaller version of that for Katie’s yard. The front yard, where there’s room and she can see them from the porch. Interested?”
Conner tilted his head and lifted a brow. “Are you thinking with a jungle gym in the yard you might be able to sneak Katie into the house for a little nookie?”
“Now, why would I think something like that?” Dylan asked, affronted.
Conner shrugged. “Probably what I would be thinking if Les had a couple of kids. But don’t do that. Really, don’t. And I’ll ask Jack if