Finally A Bride: A Valentine's Day Romance

by Colleen Charles

  I’m known for being a bit of an airhead, but this latest mistake really crosses the line even for me. More like my favorite mistake. I haven’t been able to think about anything else since our lip lock. And I should run like hell. I really, really should. A smart woman stays away from a man capable of breaking her heart.

  So why am I dancing toward the flames?

  Because no man ever kissed you that way before. Like he couldn’t live without tasting your lips.

  Scowling, I snap my gum, rolling the crisp flavor around in my mouth. At least my breath will be minty fresh.

  For kissing.

  The kissing that is not going to happen ever again.

  I stall in the doorway, glancing around, hoping to discover something I need to do right now – something that just can’t wait – but I come up empty. The cabin looks organized and cozy.

  The four-room dwelling was used as a hunting lodge for years. Len owns it. The last time the man stopped by with his wife, he about had a coronary.

  I cleaned at least five years of filth, put up sunny turquoise curtains and a rug on the kitchen floor, took down the dead animal carcasses masquerading as trophies all over the place and added an antique rocking chair I snagged at the antiques shop in town. Along with some colorful prints that I ordered at Wayfair and had delivered to the Sweetheart Hills post office. Unfortunately, UPS and FedEx don’t deliver on utility roads and long driveways up here.

  I also worked for three straight days scrubbing to get the tarnish off the four-poster brass bed frame, but now it shines and is covered in a fluffy down comforter in shades of winter blue. The watered neutrals in the fireplace rug add softness and a bit of a feminine touch so that it almost feels like home.

  With his trademark snort, Len still claims I ruined a perfectly good man’s sanctuary. And I sure as hell hope so. God, it was uninhabitable before. Even though nothing matches, I don’t care. I’m not trying to impress anyone out here in the middle of nowhere.

  When my co-workers at Cool Beans found out I specialize in organic candle making, they recommended I start stockpiling them to sell at the Sweetheart festival. I sigh as I consider the pile of wax, wicks, glass jars and imported essential oils I brought with me from Iowa. Good thing I have plenty of time to make them during chilly nights by the fire and I’ll be able to make a little money on the side. If things go well, I might even be able to drop a shift at Cool Beans, giving me even more autonomy over my schedule. Either way, I’ll sock the money away in my interest-bearing account for my future store.

  Jaw locked, a frown creasing my forehead, I lock the cabin door and head for my silver sedan. My mood feels darker than a midnight storm, and the drive into town doesn’t help brighten it. Snow falls all around me, packing the streets and sticking to my wiper blades until visibility is next to nil.

  My logical brain screams at me to turn around.

  But he’ll be alone if you do.

  My heart just can’t seem to ignore the fact that the man isn’t wanted here. Because I wasn’t wanted here either when I first set foot into Sweetheart Hills. And I wasn’t wanted at home either.

  I’m a misfit.

  And I get the impression he is too.

  No, that can’t be. No misfit kisses like he does. He’s had women. A lot of them. I’m just seeing what I want to see. I punch the radio on and turn it up loud to drown out my tumultuous thoughts of Knight kissing someone else. Someone skinny and hot. But it doesn’t work. All it does is start a headache at the back of my neck.

  I huff out a breath. He only kissed me to thank me for dinner and my two home repairs, because he couldn’t think of any other more appropriate way. He’s a man. They do impulsive things like that. Only women attach meaning to things that don’t have any. So his kiss made the earth shift below my feet. It didn’t appear to do the same for him judging from the way he teased me about my bemusement after.

  I have to forget about it and just move on with my life.

  Even though I felt safe with Knight for the first time in my life, it doesn’t matter. He’s just being Knight.

  And I have to go back to just being me.

  Lightly tapping the brakes to test for slipperiness, I spy the parking lot of Cool Beans. Cars already overflow the available spaces, and now I’m going to have to park on the street and trudge through the fresh snowfall.

  Ugh. The whole town of Sweetheart Hills is already inside. After parking and gathering my purse, I hike toward the building with my head ducked against the chilly wind, forgetting about kisses for the time being.

  Even before I open the door, I hear voices raised in anger. No one glances up when I slip inside, trying to fade into the background as I pull off my mittens and search for a place to sit. Seems like every available chair and booth are claimed, the room lit with the glare of the evening lights and smelling of apple pie and espresso. My stomach gives an involuntary lurch and I wish I would have had a snack before I left.

  I whisper my apologies as I brush past bodies, finally finding a place to stand behind two huge lumberjack looking bearded dudes in red flannel.

  My heart throbs in my chest. Even deep breathing doesn’t help to settle my racing pulse. Knight doesn’t notice me, and he probably won’t in this standing room only crowd. And just as I suspected, he’s up there alone. And the group looks ready to ignite their flaming torches and hold them high.

  My eyes soften as I look at him, all bulky muscles and chiseled lines. The two of us are so different – he’s everything big and strong and I’m everything domestic and curvy – a relationship between the two of us is flat-out ridiculous. But that doesn’t mean I can’t admire him and look my fill while the memories of kissing him to oblivion slam back into me.

  As he stands there, those twinkling hazel eyes still, his patient and calm gaze assesses the room.

  And the hatred within the room that’s all directed his way.

  “I know you don’t want bears in your backyards. I understand, but this is only a temporary situation until I can get them moved. I know you’re afraid, but they are too. A bear doesn’t choose to be by humans.”

  “What about digging in my motherfucking trash?” a huge man yells from the corner booth. “Pretty sure they want to be in my yard when they’re looking for food to steal! We ain’t got no honey up here, Evermore.”

  Knight pauses. “As I was saying, they don’t have any reason to come near you unless they’re hungry. Keep your trash cans sealed up tight and make sure nothing tempting is out and about in your yard to entice them.”

  Another man raises his hand. “What about my chickens? Can’t exactly get rid of them, now can I?”

  “I’ll be supplying them with all the fresh fish they can eat. Unless they have to hunt, they won’t. They have no reason to be anywhere near Sweetheart Hills.”

  A woman’s shrill voice interrupts Knight. “I have two small kids, Mr. Evermore. I’m afraid to let them outside to play. I’ve heard stories about coyotes and wolves and bears making off with people’s pets. How on earth am I supposed to believe they wouldn’t do the same with a small child?”

  I swallow hard. If I was a mom, I’d be scared too. Wanting to be Knight’s silent support doesn’t mean I don’t understand the concerns of the citizens as well. As an outsider, I easily see both sides. But this crowd worked themselves into a fast frenzy before I even stepped inside the coffee house. Now they look more like an angry mob ready to lose their shit.

  A man’s voice shrieks. “I say we form a hunting party and execute every last one of them bastards!”

  At that, the entire crowd joined in with shouts of, “Kill them! Kill them! Kill the bears!”

  Thinking about Hilda and her friends, tears prick the backs of my eyes before I can swallow down the emotion. The great black bear could have killed me, and she chose not to. That has to mean something.

  One of the huge lumberjacks in front of me starts waving his tree-trunk arms. “I don’t want those dangerous beasts around he
re, Evermore. Our women and our kids aren’t safe. And sure as hell not our pets. I have a lab that’s hunted with me for the past ten years. It would break my son’s heart if she got carted off by some wild animal for their latest meal. It’s barbaric.”

  What’s barbaric is talking about killing a bunch of beautiful animals just because you don’t understand them and chose not to learn.

  But I remain silent, not sure how to help, or if that help would even be welcome.

  The raised voices pick up momentum until Knight says softly, “You could do that.” Frowns follow his comment, then silence. They obviously didn’t expect him to agree and that takes the wind right out of their sails. “There are two adults and two cubs. You all know the Minnesota laws about bear hunting. You could probably execute all of them and no one would prosecute you. But you’d know you did wrong. You’d have to live with yourself and sleep at night. So that’s a choice you’re going to have to make with yourself and your conscience. I can’t stop you.”

  Knight’s gaze scans the crowd, waiting until the last murmurs die down before continuing. “There’s another choice, though, and I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t offer it to you. In a matter of weeks, I can relocate them to a territory farther away. Since that would solve the problem, I want to know why that choice isn’t on the table. Due to the abnormally mild weather, their hibernation patterns got disturbed. Otherwise, they’d be snug inside their den right now.”

  He pauses again, collecting his thoughts. “These cubs could affect the entire ecosystem of northern Minnesota. The black bears are in trouble up here, dying off for unknown reasons. And they need to not be so inbred. I’ve been following Hilda for years. Her cubs represent a fresh bloodline, which could make all the difference. All I’m asking for is your patience for a few short weeks. The survival of the black bear is in jeopardy. But since that doesn’t affect you, you really don’t care, do you?”

  At the end of his last sentence, he sees me. When his gaze lands on my shoulders, I’m scrunched between the barrel chests of the lumberjacks on either side of me. Under the heat of his stare, the oxygen gets sucked from the room. His eyes meet mine and lock, refusing to release me. A cocky smirk tugs at the corners of his full lips. All of a sudden, bears and the people who choose to hate them have been pushed to the back burner, to be replaced by lust, hot and demanding.

  But he doesn’t even take a breath or stop talking. “They’re supposed to be safe here, but hunters have been illegally poaching bears to use as trophies in hunting lodges. Killing bears for sport is more like slaughter. We might as well just send them all down to Mexico on a horse trailer.”

  I stare at him, letting my eyes say what my words can’t from this distance.

  His eyes stare at the people in the front row. “You don’t have to care about the bears. You don’t have to make this your problem. I’m just asking you to leave it be as my problem. Even though people matter more than animals, there isn’t one on this planet not linked to humans in some way. We don’t want any species of animals to go extinct or even become endangered. It’s not good for our environment or for us.”

  With a stricken feeling of shock, I notice the time. More than an hour has passed. The meeting will probably end any second. I have to get ready for my shift. I try to catch Knight’s eye and can’t. Not that it matters if I slip away.

  Out of sight. Out of mind.

  Except he’s never far away from my mind when he’s out of my sight.

  Thinking he needs me is a farce. A cruel joke that I play on myself. He doesn’t need me and he sure as hell doesn’t want me. My bear whisperer has turned this rabid crowd into a docile bunch of bunny rabbits right before my very eyes.

  It boggles my mind, considering I’ve never been in a public speaking situation where people want my head on a plate.

  I desperately want to know how this is going to turn out, but I can’t wait. I have to get to the back room and start doing my prep work or I’m going to be in a world of hurt when these mad hatters start screaming for muffins and lattes to soothe their wounded pride.

  Two hours later my feet ache, the decibel level in the coffee house is even worse than it was when the fans were getting rampant about the bears, even in the back of the house. Wearing an apron over my t-shirt and jeans, I pour another four mugs of coffee.

  “Do we have any more blueberry muffins, Angelica?” Len asks as he wiggles by me to make a mocha.

  “I think so,” I answer, setting the mugs down on a serving tray. “I’ll look as soon as I deliver these coffees.”

  Sweat trickles down the back of my neck and itches. I’ve been running my ass off ever since I started my prep work. The sock in my right tennis shoe bunched and I know I’m going to have a whopper of a blister come morning. I don’t think Len has ever had a female employee before. He keeps thumping me on the back like an overzealous grandpa.

  But with business booming, he’s happy and it shows. His wife, Joan, is out front somewhere too, probably wishing he’d sit down before he falls down. But the stubborn man always ignores her every time she lets him have it.

  The back door flies open, letting in a gush of cold air. It cools my cheeks and the back of my neck as I pick up my serving tray full of hot coffee. I don’t really know who just walked inside until a hand reaches over to steal one of the mugs off my tray.

  I slap it away on instinct and earn a smirk in response.

  His smirk.

  His gaze only takes a few seconds to take in my wayward ponytail, flushed cheeks and tired eyes. I look like a hot mess and even bigger than I usually do cloaked in this apron with chocolate smudges all over it. Yet the gleam in his eyes says otherwise. I wonder why in the hell he came in the back way. Unless…

  They’re after him.

  “Are they trying to kill you?” I whisper, flicking my wrist toward the hundred customers in the restaurant. “The red-shirted lumberjack guys?”

  He shakes his head with a smile. “Nah. I’ve got them calmed down for now. I just had to come and thank you for coming to the meeting.”

  “I only wish you had something to thank me for. I didn’t do anything.” With Knight trailing behind me, I deliver the coffee to a nearby table and then go back for the pot to freshen a few others.

  By the time I get back, Knight has my order pad in his hand and is pitching in. “So you need four slices of apple pie for table ten?”

  “I’ve got it,” I say, motioning him away. I shift four pie plates to another serving tray. “You can’t be back behind the counter. Health codes and all that.”

  He waves my concern away. “But you did help by coming. Moral support. It can’t be underestimated or underappreciated. I didn’t expect to see a friendly face in that sea of hatred. But I did. And it mattered. More than you know.”

  “Apple, not blueberry,” I direct, trying to move him. But he doesn’t budge. Like a mountain. “I didn’t do or say anything to help you. I didn’t know what to say or if I should try to say anything. I guess I don’t know enough about what you do yet to talk about it intelligently.”

  “You were there. In my corner.” He shuffles the pie onto the plates just the way I would do it, so I stop trying to argue with him. For now. He glances at me and my face flushes an even deeper shade of red. I have to stop looking at his lips.

  Because I know where they’ve been.

  And where I want them to be.

  Between my legs.

  I point. “No cinnamon ice cream on that one.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sorry I had to leave early. There’s a ton of prep work before each shift before the sea of people out there start demanding drinks and food.”

  He plops the cardboard cover back on the ice cream. “I guessed as much.”

  “They were all calming down when I left. You have a way of getting through to people. It’s quite a gift. It’s almost a waste that you deal with animals on the daily instead of humans. Seems like a waste of a supreme talent.”


  He gives me a little chuckle. “Yeah, I’m a real speech maker.” He sneaks a chocolate chip cookie from the case and pops it into his mouth. “Ah, so good. You haven’t had a chance to eat anything yet, have you?”

  “Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t hurt me to skip a few meals.” My eyes regard him. “Do you think they’ll leave the bears alone?”

  “I don’t really know. It could go either way. People behave in mysterious ways. Groups of men behaving badly bring out the worst in men who have a tendency to be bad anyway. Like Jess, who always thinks he has something to prove. Hunting defenseless bear cubs probably floats his boat, especially if he gets cheered on by his posse. But there are just as many kind, rational people in Sweetheart Hills.”

  I nod. “But they seem so afraid of the bears, especially Hilda. It’s not her fault the warm weather woke her and her kids up.”

  “Yeah. And people never act in their right mind when they’re scared. It would help a whole lot if that Grey Fox hadn’t been shot and killed, leaving those orphan kits behind. We’ve got more than enough wolves and coyotes too. Can’t expect a mom with little kids not to be nervous about predators near her house. Especially with all those YouTube videos of coyotes stalking people and pets. They can act out of character when they’re starving. And I hate to admit it, but forty percent of a coyote’s diet is house cat. I can reassure them until the cows come home, but I can’t make guarantees. And that’s what they really want.”

  After I deliver the pie and ice cream, I whirl around to fetch the blueberry muffins only to find that Knight already has them plated up and ready to go with the little pats of whipped butter Len likes to include. I steal a glance at his chiseled face. I can’t help but think he’s not just talking about the citizens of Sweetheart Hills trusting him about bears, but about me trusting him as a man.

  With my heart.

  But do I even have a heart available to give? I’m just not sure.

  Not yet at least.