Page 97 of Making New Plans

Smiling, I spoke the feeling that never came easily to me if it surfaced at all. “I love you too, Nana. And I will make it right. Now, tell me about this lovely little house.”

36

Chloe

Sunday night found me sitting me behind the lodge’s front desk rearranging my sticky notes for the billionth time. I’d spent hours crafting them, while trashing dozens and ruining a few with coffee stains, until I was sure my thoughts had been written with the correct words. Because this letter had to be perfect.

After my blow-up with the committees and my mother, I’d thrown myself into work at the lodge. I’d started cataloguing all the changes, big and small, I wanted to make that I thought Hunter might be interested in. Paint samples, wood samples, carpet samples, and samples for things I didn’t even know had samples had arrived by the boxful for the lodge and the potential cabins.

It was part of my big plan of Get Hunter Back. The other part was writing a two-foot-long letter to him using sticky notes to explain every which way I’d fallen in love with him and why he should’ve never left. Shedding old habits had unveiled a strength and determination I didn’t know I had. I wanted Hunter, and I wanted to make it as clear as possible that we could both figure out our dreams somehow. But it was better to figure them out together.

I was finishing that particular sticky note when a deep voice said, “Checking in.”

My head shot up. I must not have heard the lodge doors open. Unless the tall, gorgeous man standing in front of me was not actually Hunter and just a dream. His warm brown eyes crinkled with his smile, and his signature scent jolted my heart.

“Uhhh,” was my great opener.

His smile widened. “No vacancies, huh? Guess I should’ve called ahead.”

A laugh burst out of me at the memory of our first meeting. “Guess you should’ve. It might’ve spared me a heart attack.”

He chuckled. “Sorry about that. But I have a plan.”

The flicker of hope in my chest grew. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes conducting a slow, hungry perusal of me. “First step, sneak up on Chloe and surprise her into scattering her sticky notes everywhere.” He glanced down at the sticky notes that had indeed fluttered around the desk with my sudden movement. “Then help her pick them up so I can get closer to her.”

My face warmed as he came around the desk and reached for the notes. Too late, mostly due to my proximity to his tempting lips and intoxicating scent, I remembered what the sticky notes said.

“Wait!” I yelped, grabbing for them.

But he was already skimming one. His eyebrows shot up. He picked up another then another.

“You’re reading them out of order,” I grumbled.

He didn’t seem to hear me as he read each of them. His jaw worked up and down, and his lips moved as he read. He chuckled at a few—probably the ones I’d put silly jokes on. Others, his whole face softened. Hopefully, those were the ones where I’d told him how much I loved him being here and how happy he’d made me by seeing me for who I really was and making me feel so wanted.

I bit my lip to keep from mentioning that I hadn’t written the last one yet.

When he was done, he looked down at me, an incredulous yet joyful smile lighting up his face.

“You really mean all this?” he said, holding a fistful of notes.

I nodded. “I was going to put them in order and mail them to you in Boston.”

He tucked the notes into his coat pocket. “Glad I could save you postage. And I’m really glad I made you so happy.” Grabbing my chair, he pulled me toward him. “And that you want me here.” His face hovered inches away, the lips I’d been missing for weeks so close to mine. “And that you’ve been missing me like crazy. I especially appreciate the several notes you dedicated to each of my physical attributes.”

My smile met his before our lips found each other and held tight. He cupped my face in his palms and deepened the kiss, tipping the chair backward slightly. I didn’t care if the chair splintered. I’d missed this so much I thought might cry with happiness at finally getting it back.

Once he was done thoroughly kissing me and wrecking my hair, he straightened back up with an impish grin. “That was supposed to be a later step, but we can always repeat it. Moving on to Step Two, which I’m calling ‘Why I Don’t Actually Need a Room.’”

My brow wrinkled in confusion. Then a prickle of worry brought me to my feet. “You’re not staying in Tangled River?”

He pursed his lips with a twinkle in his eyes. Then he put the sign on the desk, slung my purse over my shoulder, and guided me toward the door. We walked out into the twilight. The weather was warm enough that I didn’t need a jacket, but Hunter laid his around my shoulders anyway. I huffed his scent like a wine connoisseur at a tasting.

As we walked across the square, he looked down at me. “I thought you’d be at Sunday night dinner. I was going to leave you a note.”

I let out a wry laugh. “No more Sunday night dinners. In fact…”

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