Page 14 of You Had Me At Valentine

He stands in the doorway holding two cups of coffee from the Kilt Valley Café, and the simple gesture threatens to undo me. Because it’s exactly what I need, exactly when I need it.

Just like old times.

“Peace offering?” I ask, proud that my voice stays steady despite the out of place flutter in my chest.

“More like survival rations.” He sets one cup in front of me, careful not to disturb my piles. “I grabbed dinner too.”

A takeout bag from The Table appears next to the coffee. The scent of garlic hits me and my stomach growls. “Is that five cheese ravioli with extra breadsticks?”

“Naturally.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” I’m already reaching for the bag.

“Consider it self-preservation. You’re scary when you’re hangry.”

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips. “That happened one time.”

“You threw a ski pole at my head.”

“I was aiming for the tree behind you.”

His laugh is warm and familiar, and something inside me softens despite my best efforts to stay guarded.

He shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over a chair. Even that simple movement draws my attention—the way the light catches on his carefully styled hair and how his shoulders fill out his dress shirt in a way they never did in high school.

This version of Byron, the one who brings me coffee and remembers my favorite pasta, is dangerous.

He rolls up his sleeves and loosens his tie, and I have to look away. But not before I catch a whiff of his woodsy cologne mixed with the dusty-paper smell of old books. The combination is oddly intoxicating.

“We can eat in here,” I say to distract myself. “Judy won’t mind.”

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“Is this another thinly veiled attempt to figure out what I’m doing so you can keep my father updated?”

Byron makes a face. “That shtick is getting old. I’ve told you I’m not keeping tabs for nefarious purposes. What do I have to do to convince you?”

Nothing.

I stopped believing he’s a step away from blowing my whole “save the inn” scheme out of the water when he handed Miss Henderson her valentine and she teared up. Actually, that wasn’t the exact moment.

It was whenheteared up.

Somehow that made the narrative in my head stop, the one casting him as the bad lawyer in the story. The wicked corporate guys don’t cry.

But that doesn’t mean I have to clue Byron in on my about-face. He can sweat it for a while longer. Meanwhile, I’m using my cover to secretly study this new version of him.

I’m softening but I’m not an idiot. I don’t plan to let him shatter me a second time. The more I learn about him, the easier it will be to see him coming. And pretend I’m not thinking about how much I used to like kissing him.

I decide to have mercy on him since he brought food. “I’m looking for documentation I can give to the Kilt Valley Heritage Trust.”

Byron’s eyebrows jump. “Trying to get the inn recognized as a historical landmark, are we? I wondered where you were headed with that whole cultural significance remark.”

I figured he would immediately understand. There is something to be said for intelligence. It’s far sexier than I will admit out loud.

Especially because I’m still not sure if he plans to use his brain for good or evil.

He grabs his to-go container and settles into the chair at a right angle to mine. Guess we’re sharing the table now. But I did say he could eat in here with me so I get what I deserve when I’m immediately hyper-aware of his bare forearms.

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