The Trouble With Valentine's Day

Her nose wrinkled. 'You smell like fish.'

'I know. I just caught a sixteen-inch beauty. You would have loved it.'

'Is that what you came to tell me?'

'No, but while I was fishing, I realized how much I've missed you and that my life is shit without you.'

'Rob, I don't-'

'You're right,' he interrupted before he lost his nerve. 'You deserve more. You deserve someone who loves you enough.'

Pain clouded her eyes and she looked away. He placed his hand on the side of her face and brought her gaze back to his. 'I love you, Kate. I don't just think I might love you. I've never loved a woman more than I love you. I love your tenacity. I love that other men think you're a ballbuster and that I alone know the truth. I love that you single-handedly want to change the eating habits of Gospel. I love that you know what you're worth. I used to think that if something went wrong in my life, I'd just solve the problem by never making the same mistake twice. But that didn't solve anything. It just made my life lonely as hell. Then you came along and let the sunlight back into my life. And I don't ever want to go back to the way things were before you propositioned me that night in Sun Valley. I love you and I want to be with you forever. I want you to be my friend and lover. Not for today or tomorrow.Not for a year or five years from now.' He wrapped his arms around her waist and lowered his mouth to her ear. 'Kate, be my wife. My lover. My forever.'

After a pause that seemed like a lifetime, she said, 'You're doing it again.'

'What?' He pulled back and looked into her face. Tears rested on her bottom lashes, and his heart beat heavy in his chest while he waited for her to speak again.

'Making it impossible to say no to you.'

He smiled. 'Then say yes.'

'Yes.' She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead to his. 'I love you, Rob. I love that you have an ego bigger than mine. I love that you braved the Mountain Momma Crafters for me. I came to Gospel to look for my life, and I found you. You are my lover and my fantasy man.'

He gave her a long, wet kiss, and when he pulled back, he said, 'I was thinking we should go celebrate at the lodge where we first met.'

She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned back. 'That is not one of my fondest memories.'

He grinned. 'It is mine.'

'You just want me to twist you into a sexual pretzel.'

'You're reading my mind again.'

She chuckled. 'Sometimes it isn't difficult.'

She was such a smart-ass and a trash talker. He held her tight and buried his nose in the top of her head. Those were just two of the things he loved about her.

Epilogue

Kate Sutter raised a hot buttered rum to her lips and took a long drink. Valentine's Day, she decided, was freakin' fabulous. On the 'things that are freakin' fabulous' scale, it ranked somewhere between her husband's naked butt and the four-carat Tiffany diamond on her finger.

Kate looked around the Duchin Lounge, at the shiny heart garlands, roses, and flickering candles. Red and pink hearts were taped up behind the bar and on the big windows looking out at snow-covered pines, groomed runs, arid night skiers. She'd been married a total of six hours and was looking forward to the rest of her life.

She and Rob had said their vows at the little church in Gospel, and after the reception, they'd set out for their honeymoon. First Stop, the Duchin Lounge.

Since the end of summer, her grandfather had retired and handed the M &S over to Kate to run. The day he and Grace had driven off in a new Winnebago, Kate had ordered a new cash register that kept track of purchases at the point of sale. Her homemade bread sold out every day, although the jalapeno jelly was still a tough sell.

'Sun Valley Ale,' a masculine voice next to her ordered.

'Draft or bottle,' the bartender asked.

'Bottle's fine.'

Kate ran her gaze up worn Levi's and a blue flannel shirt to a pair of green eyes. 'Wanna see my tattoo?' she asked.

The bartender put the beer on the bar, and Rob raised it to his lips. 'Are you propositioning me?'

'Yep.' She stood and set down her mug. 'We have nine hundred and twenty fantasies we have to get started on.'

He took a drink, then lowered the bottle. 'Nine hundred and nineteen,' he said through a purely lascivious grin. He grabbed her hand and walked with her from the lounge as fast as his boots would carry him. 'But who's counting?'

RACHEL GIBSON

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