Page 90 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
The beginnings of spring were starting to show. Green buds were coming to life on the trees and wildflowers were in bloom. Rivers and streams were rushing with water from the melting snow. The Jamison Valley was alive with new life and color.
“This is amazing,” I told Nick.
After an hour ride, the hot-air balloon pilot set us down in another open field across the valley. Nick was up to something else because not far from our landing pad was my Jeep.
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing or do you plan on continuing this torture?”
“Torture. I like making you squirm.” He winked.
We said our good-byes to the pilot and took off on the next part of Nick’s surprise. The sun was setting and the sky was alight with vivid color.
Nick drove through a maze of gravel roads until we started up an incredibly steep hill. When the Jeep plateaued, we faced a wooden A-frame chateau built into the side of a mountain. The large front windows were a golden beacon.
“Are we staying here?” I asked, not even trying to contain my excitement.
“Yeah. Rented it out for the whole weekend.”
“Wow,” I whispered.
Nick pulled me inside so I could explore while he brought in our bags and the groceries he’d stashed in the car. The interior of the house had a similar feel to Nick’s cabin. Rich woods mixed with rough stone. Cozy furniture. Enormous fireplace.
“You like it?”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” I said. “Do you want a drink before dinner?”
“Yeah. I’ll start cooking in a few,” he said.
“Okay. I’ll get you a beer. Did you bring wine?” I asked.
“Is your name Emmeline Austin?”
That meant yes.
I smiled and walked to the kitchen, where an abundance of food items was resting on the counter next to two bottles of my favorite wine.
Nick was a romantic. Some of his declarations over the last few months still took my breath away. But this was beyond my wildest dreams.
While Nick bustled around in the kitchen cooking dinner, I relaxed in front of the fireplace and enjoyed my wine. Delicious smells filled the house, and by the time we were seated at the table, my mouth was watering.
“You made me salmon?”
“I made sure to ask Samuel how you liked it before they left.” Forking off a flaky bite, a moan escaped my throat when the flavor burst on my tongue.
“Good?” he asked.
“Amazing. You’ve outdone yourself. And Samuel.”
We ate mostly in silence, both content to enjoy the meal and the peaceful setting.
“I’ll clean up,” I offered.
Part of our nightly routine was Nick cooking and me cleaning the dishes. He must have suspected that I’d volunteer because when I walked into the kitchen, I came to a stop at the sight of two wrapped boxes sitting on the island.
Why hadn’t I gotten him something? I should have known he would remember our anniversary. Nick remembered everything from Las Vegas. Obviously, the date hadn’t slipped his mind. Instead of searching for the perfect gift, I had been busy doubting him.
“I didn’t get you anything. I should have. I’m so sorry,” I blurted.
“I don’t want anything. All I need is you.” He kissed the tip of my nose. Taking the plates from my hands, Nick set them aside and went to the boxes.
