The Valentine Box (The Box Books #3)

February 14

Taylor

I t’s been a long few days in more ways than one. We’ve stayed busy at the bake shop, I don’t have my car but do have a new alternator to pay Finch Auto Repair for whenever it comes in, and…every time I think of Luke—which is often—I almost can’t breathe. But I try to tell myself: If it’s this bad already, imagine if things had gotten more serious and then he was suddenly out of your life.

On the upside: I’m alone with Maggie in the shop, having just sent Geneva and Kyra home for a much-deserved rest. It’s after seven, and I’m still working—mixing up a batch of icing—but we haven’t had any customers since five and soon I’ll close up and head home myself, another Valentine’s Day in the books.

Just then, the front door opens and in walks Billy Finch.

I let my eyes bolt open wide. “Please tell me you’re here because my car’s ready,” I say through the interior window.

He gives his head an I’m-about-to-disappoint-you tilt. “Sorry, Taylor. Still waiting on that part, but when I called earlier, the guy promised I’ll really have it tomorrow.” Then he smiles. “I’m here for my free cake.” His smile fades, though, as he inspects the display cabinet. “If you have any left.”

I set aside my work and walk around to take a glance myself. When a lock of hair that’s escaped my ponytail blocks my vision, I shove it behind one ear. “We’ve got a chocolate one with chocolate ganache and a strawberry one with whipped buttercream frosting. If neither of those speak to you, let me know what you’d like and I’ll make it tomorrow.”

He shrugs. “I’ll take the strawberry. Jessie Ann likes strawberry.”

Jessie Ann is Billy’s longtime girlfriend and I’m guessing he’s forgotten to get her anything for Valentine’s Day and has just found out the florist outside town is out of flowers, which my last male customer shared with me. When a guy shows up this late on February fourteenth, that’s usually the case.

As I box up the cake, I inform him, “If you need a card, the drugstore’s still open.”

His alarmed expression tells me he forgot that, too. “You’re a lifesaver, Taylor.”

It’s been an exhausting couple of days, no longer with mail order fulfillment but instead walk-in business, and my brain is fried—but I guess some of the circuits are still connecting.

As I hand him a pretty pink box, I say, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Billy.” That’s what we do here on February fourteenth. We wish every customer a happy heart-filled holiday. Even if we’re not really feeling happy ourselves—and I’m not, but I think I fake it pretty well.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Taylor.”

When he’s gone, I glance down at my faithful companion, Maggie, whose tongue lolls from one side of her mouth. “And happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, Mags,” I say softly. “Looks like it’s just me and you, as usual. What do you say I lock up and we head home? There’s a frozen lasagna dinner with my name on it, and maybe I’ll treat us both to a cupcake. We deserve it, right?”

As I turn back to the counter, a blob of wet icing drops right on to the valentine box in front of me, and I realize instantly that it came from my hair. “Oh my God,” I mutter, “how long has that been there?” Well, not very, since it didn’t have time to dry—it must be from the batch I was mixing when Billy came in. And— crud—it might leave a stain on the box. Which is not the end of the world because I can always paint it again, but…

That’s when I realize the icing blob has spread into the loose shape of a heart. One side is bigger than the other, but it’s still a heart.

And then I gasp. Kyra reminded me twice today to look in the box, but I was so busy each time that it went in one ear and out the other. I totally forgot, thinking in the moment that maybe she’d put a valentine inside for me.

But when I see a heart that way, it’s usually more important than, say, a card from a friend. “What now, Dad?” I whisper. Then I unlatch the lid and pull it off.

On top of the usual business cards lies a small red envelope with my name neatly printed on it. Ah, maybe it is just a card from Kyra. Sweet of her.

Slipping my finger inside the sealed flap, I open it up and pull out an old-fashioned valentine like we used to give each other in school. Overtop a cartoonish red pony, it says: Stop horsing around and be my valentine.

I smile, then flip it over—and get the shock of my life. Or—well—the second shock of my life that’s come from this box.

It’s not from Kyra.

I still recognize Luke’s handwriting from valentines and heart wishes long ago, even before seeing his name. But it’s not just his name he’s written.

Meet me in the school gym on Valentine’s Day at 7:15 PM. Word of the day: Dance. You still owe me one.

What? My tired mind tries to process the note. Luke wants me to be his valentine and he’s asked me with a horse, which is adorable. And he wants me to meet him for a dance? At the school? That part hardly makes sense.

And didn’t I just push him away? Don’t I keep telling myself it’s for the best? So why is my heart beating so fast right now? Why is my first impulse to fly to where he is and let myself be swept up in his strong arms? Maybe I’ve never forgotten that fantasy I once concocted about walking into that gym in a gorgeous dress.

Well, that’s an absolute impossibility. I look down at the dirty apron I’m wearing over an also-dirty Sweetheart Bake Shop (Not a Diner!) T-shirt, then remember my hair’s in a messy ponytail and also has icing in it. After which I glance up at the old diner clock still on the wall above the door to see it’s 7:20.

7:20!

I’m late already—but at least it didn’t take me four years to find this invitation.

“Mags, we’ve got to go! Fast!”

Throwing my apron off over my head, I rush to lock the front door, scoop up my dog in my arms, grab my purse, and rush out the back, locking that door, too. All the while I’m remembering there’s a huge batch of icing I didn’t put in the fridge, but I have to let it go.

Only—my parking spot out back is empty! Where’s my car?

Oh no. It’s at Billy’s. I was planning to walk home. But it’s a lot farther to the school than my house.

What to do? I stand there frozen—because I forgot my coat—with an armful of poodle and no idea how I’m going to get where I need to go.

“Wait,” I say to Maggie. “I can text him. I can text him and tell him I’ll be on my way as soon as I figure out how.”

It’s not easy to finagle my phone from my purse with a dog in my arms, but I manage it. Only to find it won’t come on. Really? I was so busy I forgot to charge it? That never happens. But it just did.

In pure desperation, I sprint up the alley beside my shop and emerge onto Main Street to find lights still on in the drugstore. I run with Maggie in that direction and, through the window, spot Jeff and Billy chatting. I burst through the door like a madwoman. “I need a ride!”

They both turn toward me, jaws dropping.

“Huh?” Billy asks.

As Jeff asks with grave concern, “Taylor, are you okay?”

“I need a ride! Now! It’s an emergency!”

“Are you hurt?” Jeff asks, eyes filled with worry.

“No—I just need a ride! Billy, give me a ride!”

Billy looks discombobulated, fumbling frantically with his wallet. “I need to pay for my card.”

“He’ll pay you later, Jeff,” I say through clenched teeth. “C’mon, let’s go! It’s urgent!”

“All right, all right—I’m coming. Calm down. I don’t want to damage my cake.”

He’s still not moving fast enough for me, but once we’re in his pickup, me with a dog in my lap, he asks cautiously, “Okay, where are we going? The hospital? An all-night vet?”

“No, the high school,” I inform him.

He looks across the truck cab at me, clearly even more perplexed than before. “The high school?”

“Yes! Don’t just sit there—drive!”

As the truck pulls away from the curb, Billy begins to look frightened, like maybe he’s in the company of someone who should instead be driven to a psychiatric ward. The truck is moving now, but Billy says very calmly to me, “Taylor, there are no events at the high school tonight. Nobody will be there. Do you need me to call your mom?”

I turn my frantic gaze on him, feeling as crazed at this point as I probably seem. I guess his concern makes sense—I haven’t explained very well, or…at all. Now I attempt to speak calmly. “Luke is there, waiting for me. He left me a valentine, but I didn’t find it until just now. I’m already late, and if I don’t get there quickly, he’ll think I’m standing him up again.”

“Oh,” he says, taking all this in. And then he really seems to get it. “ Ohhh . Why didn’t ya say so?” After which he floors it.

Luke

Here I stand in the school gym, holding another dozen red roses, alone.

It’s worse this time in a way. I made a grand gesture. I got TJ to let me into our old school one more time and I actually tried to recreate the sweetheart dance Taylor and I never got to share.

And I took it for granted that everything Billy and TJ said the other night accurately explained her pulling back and that this would fix things. Or that—hell—she’d at least be curious enough to check it out. Or kind enough not to leave me hanging in rejected humiliation.

Damn, even now, the rejection stings.

It’s almost 7:45. It’s ridiculous I’ve waited this long. I mean, when will I get the message? Wake up, Montgomery. She’s not coming. She’s doesn’t love you.

I guess I deserve this. It’s the first time I’ve really cared about someone who didn’t return my feelings. And worse still, I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with her. It seems crazy after only being home a little more than a month, but this goes back further. When you have history with someone, everything in the present means more.

Or at least it did to me.

I think it’s time for this disillusioned Romeo to just slink on back to the farm. Then get back to the things I still need to accomplish before leaving Sweetwater, since I’m suddenly eager to hightail it back to Utah where I won’t have to worry about running into the girl who’s broken my heart—again.

Taylor

It’s surreal to lug my dog into the school gym and find the stage at the far end dimly lit, hung with fairy lights and foil hearts. Luke Montgomery stands upon it wearing a dark suit and red tie, holding a dozen roses limp at his side, looking as handsome as I’ve ever seen him. The sight halts me in place.

When our gazes connect across the distance, he lifts the bouquet back up, and his voice comes soft but deep. “If it’s not Taylor Mulvaney, keeper of the heart wishes.”

I carry Maggie closer. “I didn’t think they still had the sweetheart dance here,” is all I can think of to say.

“This is just for us,” he informs me. “For that dance we never got to have.”

Standing below the stage now, peering up at him, I shake my head and say, “Look at me. I’m a mess. And I had to bring Mags because there was no time to take her home. If I’d found your note sooner, I would be in a pretty dress right now, looking as amazing as you do.” Then I stop, shake my head. “Or, well, maybe not, actually, because you look perfect and…” I stop talking because I’ve just accidentally blurted out that he’s perfect. Because he is.

“Like I said once before, you’re a gorgeous mess,” he tells me. “I promise, you look perfect to me, too, exactly the way you are.”

Once upon a time, I fantasized about walking into this gym looking beautiful, trying to measure up to the kind of girls I thought Luke liked—but in this moment, I feel total acceptance from the handsome man before me, just as I am.

Now that man descends the steps to one side of the stage to meet me, handing me the roses as he takes the fluffy dog from my arms and lowers her to the floor. Which I guess is okay, because where is she gonna go? “I’m right here, Mags,” I murmur to let her hear my voice.

“Don’t worry, Maggie,” Luke says. “She’s not going anywhere. She’s finally where she’s supposed to be—even if she’s a little late.” Then he meets my gaze. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

“I didn’t check the box—we’ve been swamped.”

“Maybe it was a bad idea to rely on the box again, but…it just felt right.”

“It was right,” I assure him. “But I also don’t have transportation right now—my car’s in the shop.”

His eyes bolt wide. “Oh, damn—I actually knew that, but I was so nervous I totally forgot.”

She appears stunned. “ You were nervous?”

He nods like that should make sense to me. “When I make a big play for the woman who keeps pushing me away because, despite all the very clear messages she’s sending, I’m still not ready to give up on her…yeah, that makes me nervous.”

The words, along with the vulnerability shining through his eyes, serve to remind me how I once accidentally stood him up, and how his father didn’t come to his games, and how it all left him feeling rejected. I hate that he’s ever had to feel that way. “Please know I’ll always show up for you,” I tell him. “Even if I have…” I look down, taking myself in. “…Stains on my shirt and icing in my hair.”

But he just smiles and says, “Come with me.”

Taking my hand, he leads me up the steps and onto the stage. Once there, he extracts the bouquet from my arms and lowers it to a small table where a portable speaker resides, then pulls out his phone and hits a few buttons. Music emerges from the speaker— “Lady in Red” by Chris de Burgh begins to play.

Luke holds out his hand to ask, “May I have this dance?”

“You remembered?” I whisper about the song. “All these years?”

“I couldn’t forget anything about the girl I always should have been dancing with.”

And then that’s what we do—we dance. We don’t talk. We just sway to the same song that was so meaningful to my parents, and I let it become an even bigger part of me now. It’s about a man taking in the beauty of the woman he’s with, and as Luke gazes down at me while we move together, his affection is undeniable—even with the icing, even with the stains. His eyes make me feel more beautiful than I knew I could.

When his mouth meets mine, I melt into him, forgetting everything that’s led up to this, sinking completely into the moment. I smell things like leather and sugar and old bleachers. I get lost in the song and the warmth of his body pressed against me. I was a fool to push him away. No matter what the future holds, or doesn’t, this moment alone is worth any risk.

After we break from kissing, he whispers, his face near mine, “You always taste as sweet as the things you bake.”

And I reply with what’s in my heart, unedited, unfiltered. “I’m going to miss you so, so much when you leave, Luke. That’s why I pushed you away. I’m sorry. I should have been honest. It was all because I’m going to miss you.”

“No, Taylor,” he says, “you’re not.”

I pull back to look up at him, confused, as the song comes to an end and the gym falls silent once more. My voice echoes as I ask, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he begins. “About things I’d miss here if I leave again. The horses. My mom. My old buddies. The farm. The hot girl at the bake shop.” Then he grins down at me. “Mainly the last one, though.”

Hot. No one has ever called me hot in my life. But Luke Montgomery just did. And I can barely process what he’s just said to me—the actual important part—only then I finally do. “But…your business,” I say. “And you love Utah.”

“Yeah, I do,” he concedes. “But there’s a lot to love here, too. I just never noticed it when I was a kid. Well, wait.” He lowers his gaze, bringing our faces closer. “I noticed one thing to love then—you. But I didn’t think you noticed back. Anyway, maybe it’s time for a new chapter. I’ve loved my life out west. Now I’m gonna love my life back home.”

Okay, maybe I’m still having trouble computing things here, but… “Did you just say you…love me?”

His eyebrows shoot up playfully, like maybe he didn’t completely mean for that to come out. “Yeah, guess I did. Too fast?”

“No,” I assure him, peering up into that blue gaze.

Then he laughs. “Good. Because I do love you, Taylor. It started way back when. And maybe that was only a crush, an infatuation. But getting to know you again now…you’ve stolen my heart all over again. I’m sorry if it took a little while to realize what you needed from me, and that I want to stay.”

I shrug, still in his warm embrace. “Well, a month,” I murmur, happy to absolve him. “That’s reasonable.”

And that’s when I see hearts all around us. They’re not like usual—not something in nature or in fabric or on a wall, not something you can touch. They’re pale and translucent, floating all around us. And maybe they’re only in my head. Or maybe they’re a gift from my father in one of the best moments of my life.

I gaze up at Luke and ask, “Would you kiss me again?”

He grins down at me. “That’s something you never have to ask for. In fact, get ready, because you’re gonna get kissed so much you’re gonna get tired of it.”

“Not possible,” I tell him.

“Well, let’s give it a try.”