Page 13 of You Had Me At Valentine

“Just thinking about routes,” I lie. “We should probably start with—”

She gasps softly, and my heart stops again. But she’s looking at a Valentine covered in children’s crayon drawings.

“Katie drew this for her dad when she was five,” Lyra says. “Right after her mom died. I remember helping her with the glitter.”

Without thinking, I reach over and squeeze her hand. She threads our fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

For a moment, we’re seventeen again, sharing secrets and dreams in my beat-up car. Then she seems to remember herself and pulls away.

“We should get going,” she says, gathering the sorted piles. As she lifts them, something falls.

My Valentine.

We both reach for it. My fingers close around the envelope a split second before hers.

“I’ll file this one for later,” I say, trying to sound casual as I tuck it into my jacket pocket. “Ready to make some deliveries?”

She gives me an odd look but nods. “First stop, Miss Henderson’s house. Try not to hit any potholes this time. I remember your driving.”

“That was one time. And if you hadn’t been distracting me with that ridiculous game—”

“Never Have I Ever is a classic road trip game.”

“We were driving across town!”

Her laugh fills the car, bright and genuine. “Fine. No games. But you have to tell me what you think people wrote in these Valentines.”

“Deal.” I start the car, hyperaware of the card burning a hole in my pocket. “And you have to tell me what you think this party and Valentine deliveries will accomplish.”

She shoots me a look. “So, you can undermine the whole thing?”

“No, so I can help you,” I tell her honestly and I like the taste of that in my mouth. So, I keep going. “There’s no law that saysI can’t. And it so happens that your party doesn’t stop us from getting the inn ready to sell.”

She stares out the window. “The party is to get people interested in the inn again. If I increase bookings, that will only help, right? We need to get as many town folks involved as possible. Spread invitations and valentines until they cover the entire valley.”

“It’s a good plan.”

“We’ll see about that, Counselor.”

As we pull away from the inn, I can’t help but wonder if there’s the slightest possibility I can segue this situation into a second chance. Like a real one. What if I could figure out a way to explain what happened in high school that Lyra would listen to?

I just hope my loyalty to Lachlan doesn’t mess everything up this time, too.

Five

Lyra

The best thing about old buildings is that they keep secrets. Not the scary kind, though the inn does make some prettyspectacular creaking noises at night. No, these secrets are the good kind, tucked away in forgotten corners and dusty boxes.

I’ve been searching through every nook and cranny of the library for two days, desperately hoping to find something that might help save my grandmother’s legacy. The massive oak table is covered in neat stacks of ledgers and photographs—my attempt at organization in the chaos.

I’d forgotten how much I love this inn. Whydidit take my father wanting to sell to get me here? I haven’t stayed overnight at the inn in at least ten years.

And I’ve never stayed overnight with Byron Hale under the same roof. My dreams are not behaving themselves.

“Thought you might need this.”

Byron’s voice makes me jump. For more reasons than one, but mostly because of what I just hit replay on in my head. A blush feathers across my cheeks. Thankfully, he has no idea he’s been starring in my dreams. Or that occasionally I’m not actually asleep when he shows up in my mind’s eye.

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