Page 36 of Dancing in Lake Mistletoe

“Where are you taking her for dinner?” Keller asks.

“The Lodge.”

The Lodge is a rustic steak house just outside of town, between Lake Mistletoe and Hailey.

“That’s a good choice,” he says.

“There’s a great new dessert place called Frosted Bliss, off Highway 9. You should take her there afterward. It’s very romantic. You can have wine or coffee and dessert. Hannah loves it,” Bran suggests.

“Oh, I’ve heard about that place,” Willa says as she takes a seat beside Keller. “Hannah wants to add them to our vendor list.”

Hannah runs a party planning business, and she and Willa work together, turning the Gingerbread Inn and Lake Mistletoe into one of Idaho’s premier wedding destinations. It’s done wonders for the town, bringing more tourist dollars in the spring and summer.

“You should definitely take her there,” Bran says.

“I’ll make a reservation,” I say. “Any other suggestions?” I ask the table at large.

“Oh, you guys leave Dutch alone. I’m sure he knows how to woo a woman,” Bob says. “Now, eat your food and mind your beeswax.”

Keller and Bran laugh, and Willa gives me a wink.

Assholes. All of them.

When the day is done, I run home and shower before heading to the resort to pick her up. It was a long, hard day, but knowing that I had tonight to look forward to made it bearable.

Josie was excited about her sleepover at Cobie’s. She packed her bag with her snowman pajamas and had me tote the ice skates Santa had brought her for Christmas last year. The ice-skating rink in town opens this weekend, and she’ll talk Mom or me into taking her to the ice every other day until it closes in early spring.

She and Cobie don’t know it yet, but I was able to score opening-night tickets toThe Nutcracker, thanks to my work at the theater, and Isaac and I have a special daddy-daughter date night planned for our girls next week. I can’t wait to see the look on Josie’s face. Her first time at a real ballet.

But tonight is all about the adults.

I made a reservation at Frosted Bliss. The guys might be nosy assholes who like to give me a hard time, but their intentions are good. It has been a while since I took a woman on a proper date. I’m out of practice. When you’re young and single, it’s easy. You take a girl for a pizza and end up at a bar, drinking and dancing the night away, then come back to your apartment and fall into bed. But as a man, you realize a woman deserves more effort, more respect.

I decided on dark jeans and black leather boots. Pulling on my black wool coat over my chunky blue knit sweater and grabbing my black wool hat, I head to the truck. It’s a chilly night, but the sky is clear, and a blanket of stars lights the way to Sun Valley. The resort is bursting with guests this time ofyear. People come from all over the country to traverse its snow-covered slopes.

Mindi is standing amid a swarm of night skiers. Next to a marquee poster of herself doing a pirouette as the Sugar Plum Fairy.

It takes her a moment to notice my arrival, which affords me the chance to take her in. She’s dressed in a mid-length burgundy cashmere sweater dress, topped by her camel-colored wool coat with brown leather accents, which match her ankle boots. Her hair hangs in loose waves.

Stunning.

When she spots my truck, a wide smile spreads across her face, and she steps from the crowd. I rush out to open the door and help her inside the warm cab.

“Hi,” she says as she takes my hand.

“Hi, yourself.”

Once she’s safely buckled in, I drive the short distance to the restaurant.

Mindi

Isit across from Dutch, sipping my wine and watching him as he stares out the window, lost in thought. The winter moon is soft, casting a golden glow on his face. The door chimes as patrons come in, and the low hum of quiet conversations floats around us from the surrounding tables.

We had a wonderful dinner at a quaint little steak house. The food was delicious. We spent the time talking about our days, work, and Josie. It was easy conversation and good company. A great evening. One spent getting to know each other, sharing stories, laughter, and little moments of connection.

But now, as we sit here at a quiet table in an elegant dessert bar, there’s something deeper there—something he hasn’t said yet.

He shifts in his chair, his hands clasped tightly around his own glass.

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