Page 20 of Valentine On Palmar Island

"I always notice you." He set the book aside carefully. "Which reminds me..." He retrieved the carved frame from his workshop, suddenly nervous despite their comfortable intimacy. "It's not as elaborate as your gift, but?—"

"It's perfect." Charlotte traced the carved flowers with her fingertips. "Just like the creator."

"Hardly perfect." But he pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Just lucky enough to find someone who sees the best in everything. Even grumpy carpenters who interrogate photographers."

"You weren't that grumpy." She settled against his chest, her familiar weight grounding him. "Though you did look pretty serious until Milo got involved."

As if hearing his name, Milo lifted his head and gave a soft woof before going back to sleep.

"Smart dog," Grant murmured. "Knew what I needed before I did."

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the fire dance. Charlotte's breathing grew steady and deep, and Grant realized she was close to falling asleep.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Mm?"

"Thank you for staying. For making this place even more of a home than it was before."

She turned in his arms, pressing a sleepy kiss to his jaw. "Thank you for giving me a reason to stop running."

Grant held her close, breathing in the moment. Outside, waves lapped at the shore and stars wheeled overhead. But everything that mattered was right here—the woman in his arms, the dog at their feet, and the quiet certainty that this was exactly where they all belonged.

Some stories, he was learning, didn't need dramatic endings. Sometimes the most beautiful ending was really a beginning—as simple and profound as finding your way home to the heart that was waiting for yours all along.

Epilogue

Charlotte

Palmar Island, one year later…

Spring had come early to Palmar Island, painting the landscape in soft greens and filling the air with the scent of sea grass and blooming jasmine. Charlotte smiled as Grant's truck wound along the familiar path to Miller's Cove, Milo's head hanging out the window.

A year. It seemed impossible that only a year had passed since she'd first driven onto the island, camera in hand and deadline looming. Now every bend in the road held a memory. There was the hardware store where Milo had led her to Grant, the marina where they'd shared early morning coffee, Indigo Bluff where she'd begun to realize she was falling in love.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Grant asked, his hand warm on her knee.

"Just thinking about how much has changed." She covered his hand with hers. "The boathouse renovation is almost done."

"Thanks to your excellent supervision."

"You mean my excellent photography." She grinned. "The historical society loves the documentation series."

"The whole island loves your work." His thumb traced circles on her knee. "Miss Doris says your photos of her garden should be in magazines."

They pulled into the clearing near the cove, and Milo was out of the truck before Charlotte could grab his leash. But he'd grown more reliable over the past year, waiting at the trailhead while Grant retrieved something from behind his seat.

"A picnic?" Charlotte asked, spotting the familiar basket.

"Thought we could recreate that evening." He shouldered the basket, taking her hand. "Though hopefully without Milo finding quite so many crabs to chase."

The dog gave an indignant woof but fell into step beside them as they walked the trail to the cove. The late afternoon sun filtered through new spring leaves, creating patterns on the path that begged to be photographed. But for once, Charlotte's camera stayed in its bag.

When they reached the cove, her breath caught. Someone—Miss Doris, probably—had scattered fresh flowers along the path to their usual spot. A blanket was already spread out, anchored by shells and pieces of sea glass they'd collected over the past year.

"You planned this," she said softly.

"Guilty." Grant set down the basket and pulled her close. "Remember the first time we came here?"

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