Page 14 of My Starry Valentine

“It’s too bad the blizzard’s so nasty outside. We could try streaming the movie. Is the internet back up?”

I pull my phone from my pocket, glancing at it and shaking my head. The wind howls violently outside, punctuating my answer.

“Well, maybe when the storm blows over, we can give it a shot,” I reply, making the surly man’s eyebrow climb his forehead.

“When that happens, you’ll leave, though.”

An artless grin captures my mouth. “When the weather improves, yeah, I’ll have to think about getting to Montrose. ButI imagine we’ll be friends by then. So catching a movie together or returning to visit you won’t feel that strange. Right?”

The Marine looks conflicted, blustering, “I don’t do public theaters.”

“No worries. I meant your place anyway.”

He bites his lower lip, trying not to smile. “That could work…”

“If you’re not too busy…”

“If I’m not too busy.”

I turn my attention to topping the pizza while he flattens the second piece of dough on a new pan before poking it with a fork, sprinkling it with Italian seasoning, and putting it in the oven.

He washes his hands at the sink, side-eyeing me as I finally let my neurotic flag fly. I order the pepperoni slices over the mozzarella in a perfect spiral formation, slightly overlapping the slices like a deck of cards, radiating out from the center to the edges.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think this means something,” he remarks in low, growly tones.

“Only when I‘m working with mashed potatoes,” I counter, drawing another unexpected chuckle from him as he opens the fridge door, pulling out a bottle and opening it.

“Close Encounters of the Third Kind. You know your movies, girl.”

I shrug. “Grandpa and I watched a lot of films together. Are you freaked out by my neuroses yet? Believe me, this is only the beginning.”

He takes a draw from his beer, shaking his head. “I’ve got my own issues when it comes to compulsions. Maybe not perfectionism like you, or whatever you call this, but certainly painfully meticulous attention to detail.”

Ledger stands next to me, and I savor his cologne’s spicy, woodsy smell, declaring, “You smell amazing.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do,” I reply, straightening up and leveling my gaze on his face. My cheeks heat because he’s a drop-dead gorgeous man despite all he’s endured. Maybe even more so because of what he’s gone through. He may not realize it, but there’s a gravity of strength to him that only comes from great suffering. I wish he could see this about himself. “Now, back to that previous comment about meticulous attention to detail. I imagine it helps with ice climbing.”

“That’s for sure.” He runs his free hand through his brown hair, inadvertently making it stick up in the back. It gives him a bit of that irresistible bedhead look. It also gives me an insatiable need to touch him. Not only because of my neuroticism but because something about the man continues to draw me irresistibly.

That said, my hands are covered in pepperoni oils.No bueno.So, I turn to the sink to wash them, calling over my shoulder, “And astronomy?”

He nods.

I dry my fingers on the hand towel on the counter before returning to stand by the moody mountain man, my heart pounding at what I contemplate. Before I hesitate, or he makes things awkward, I stand on my tiptoes, running my hands through the back of his long waves to smooth them. The moment I touch him, he pulls back with a sharp exhale.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, his eyes flashing with an unnameable emotion.

“Sorry, but your hair was ruffled in the back. It was cute and all, but after what you said about meticulous attention to detail, I assumed that meant having nothing out of place, including your hair.”

He furrows his brow, his eyes swimming with too many emotions to translate.

I add, “I’m sorry. I should have warned you first or asked for permission. If it makes you feel any better, my day job is as a hairdresser. So, I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m just not used tothis,” he says, the muscles bouncing in his jawline as he clenches his teeth and gestures large with his hands.

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”

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