Page 70 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

She nodded with her eyebrows raised, the unspoken message beingYes, you idiot. Why else would I be standing here?

I didn’t see any card in the bouquet. “Who are they from?” I called out as she started to leave.

She grinned. “Must be a secret admirer.”

Inside, I’d begun cleaning up the kitchen when the doorbell rang yet again. This time, a bouquet of red and pink balloons was tied to my porch railing.

And for the next two hours, I answered the door every fifteen minutes or so to find a new delivery, each more beautifuland romantic than the last but none containing the sender’s name.

By late morning, I was a mess.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, I scanned over my pink, tear-streaked face and unwashed hair. I’d taken off my apron, but my pajamas underneath still bore the marks of messy baking on my sleeves and chest. I was an absolute mess.

And I’d never looked more beautiful. Because I saw, there in the mirror, a sparkle in my own eyes that I’d never seen before. A slight upward curve in the corners of my lips that seemed stuck there. As if I had all the reason in the world to be …

Happy.

Full of joy at the possibility …

Well, it was a possibility, technically. But there’s no way that anyone else could’ve sent these deliveries. Not Mari, not anyone else I knew.

Only one person.

“Why are you wasting time staring at yourself in the mirror then?” I asked aloud before dashing out of the bathroom and to the front hall, where I stuffed my fuzzy sock-clad feet into boots and thrust my arms into my heavy coat. I threw on a hat too, since it was snowing. Because of course it was snowing again.

The few seconds before Peter answered the door seemed like an eternity.

He opened it slowly, taking in the sight of me. He didn’t look surprised to see me. “Hello, Hazel.”

The way he said my name … I might have swooned. But instead I gripped the edge of the doorframe firmly. “Are you going to let me in?”

He stepped back, amusement in his eyes. “By all means.” When I stepped inside and then started to remove my damp hat, his thumb found my mouth. Stunned, I gazed up at him.

“You have something here … looks like chocolate,” he mumbled as he gently dabbed at the left corner of my lip, while I held my breath.

I swallowed with great effort and then stepped out of my boots and threw off my coat. “Peter, what’s going on?”

He stood with his arms crossed. “Pardon?”

I bit back a smile. “Playing coy doesn’t suit you.”

His eyes widened a bit, growing more intense.

“Then again, maybe it does.”

And then I went for it.

I stepped forward, gripped his shoulders, and planted one firm kiss on his warm lips before gently biting his lower lip and then releasing him. As I took a step backward, I asked with a straight face, “Now will you tell me what’s going on?”

His eyes were shining. “We’re redoing Valentine’s Day. I wantthisto be my new memory. Our new memory.” He took my hands with such tenderness that I almost teared up again. “I want to be with you, Hazel. I wantus.”

I smiled through the inevitable barrage of tears welling up in my eyes. “It just so happens I want the same thing. You probably already know that by now. But I have to ask you something.”

He squeezed my hands lightly. “What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, I examined his face closely for a reaction as I asked, “Did you invest in my new company?”

He pursed his lips. “What if I did?”

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