Page 40 of The Man in the Cottage

"And I told you I don't like surprises."

"You're going to like this one."

She gives me a look, but she's smiling. "You're very confident."

"I'm very hopeful. There's a difference."

The restaurant appears around a curve in the road, a small brick building with a faded sign and a parking lot full of cars. I pull into one of the last open spots and kill the engine.

"This is it?" Kelly looks at the building, then at me.

"Trust me."

Inside, the restaurant is warm and loud and smells like garlic and fresh bread. Red-and-white checkered tablecloths, candles on every table, Dean Martin playing softly from speakers I've never been able to locate. Maria spots us from across the room and waves, already heading our way.

"Travis!" She pulls me into a hug like we're old friends, even though I've only been here a handful of times. "And this must be your girl. You didn't tell me she was so beautiful."

"I didn't want you to get jealous," I say, and Maria laughs and swats my arm.

"Come, come. I have your table ready. Best seat in the house."

She leads us to a corner booth, tucked away from the crowd, with a candle flickering in a red glass holder. Kelly slides in across from me, and I watch her take it all in—the noise, the warmth, the families and couples packed into every available space.

"This is perfect," she says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She looks at me, and there's something soft in her expression. "How did you find this place?"

"I was driving around one night, a few weeks after I got here. I didn't know where I was going. I just needed to not be in the cottage for a while." I shrug. "I saw the sign and pulled in. Maria made me eat two plates of lasagna and told me I looked like I needed feeding."

"She wasn't wrong."

"She's never wrong. Don't tell her I said that."

Maria comes back with menus and a bottle of wine she insists is on the house. "For Valentine's Day," she says, winking at Kelly. "You let me know if he treats you right. If not, I'll hit him with a spoon."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kelly says, grinning.

When Maria leaves, we look at each other across the table, and I feel that same buzz I felt last night. This electricity between us that I don't know how to name. She's here. She knows everything. And she's still here.

"This is weird," she says.

"What is?"

"Being on a date with you. After everything." She picks up her wine glass, turning it in her fingers. "Yesterday I thought you were just some guy who fixed things. Now I know you're a professional hockey player who's been hiding in my backyard for six months. It's a lot to adjust to."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing." She takes a sip of wine. "I'm not saying it's bad weird. Just weird. Like I'm getting to know you all over again."

"Maybe you are." I lean back in the booth. "The guy you knew before—the one who fixed your sink and helped with your book—that was me. But it wasn't all of me. I was holding back."

"Really?"

“Yes, now I don't want to hold back anymore."

She's quiet for a moment, studying me. "Okay. So tell me something. Something real. Something you haven't told anyone else."