Free The Trouble With Valentine's Day by Rachel Gibson

brain. Of all the bad luck, he wasn’t an alcoholic. He remembered. How many people had he told about that night? In this town, all it would take was one person, then the news would spread like the West Nile virus. Although she would prefer that the town not know of her humiliation, she really only cared about her grandfather. He went to church every Sunday. He didn’t believe in sex outside of marriage, let alone in women propositioning men in bars.
    â€œI don’t want to be the one who shatters his illusion of you.” He scooped up the patch of snow between them and tossed it off the curb. “The truth would probably give him that heart attack you seem so worried about.”
    She lifted her gaze to his knit ski cap. His hair curled up like little fishhooks along the back. “You don’t know me, and you don’t know anything about my relationship with my grandfather.”
    â€œI know you’re right about Stanley being an old-fashioned guy. He probably thinks you’re saving it for your wedding night, and we both know you’re not.”
    If Kate hadn’t given him her shovel, she would have beaned him with it.
    â€œI also know you don’t want to hear some advice from me, but I’m going to give it to you anyway,” he said as he rested the blade of the shovel on the concrete and hung his wrist over the top of the handle. “Picking up men in bars isn’t smart. You could find yourself in a lot of trouble if you keep it up.”
    She didn’t care what he thought and didn’t feel as if she needed to defend herself. “I know you’re not my father, so what are you? A cop?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œPriest?” He didn’t look like a priest, but it would explain a lot.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œMormon missionary?”
    He chuckled, and several puffs of air hung in front of his nose. “Do I look like a Mormon missionary?”
    No. He looked like a guy who liked to sin, but he wasn’t. She didn’t know anything about him at all. Other than the fact that he was a jerk and drove a HUMMER. What kind of person drove an army assault vehicle? A jerk with erectile dysfunction, that’s what kind. “Why don’t you drive a human-sized car?”
    He straightened. “I like my HUMMER.”
    A cold breeze lifted the tails of Kate’s wool scarf, and it danced on the air between them. “It makes people wonder if you’re overcompensating for something,” she said.
    Lines appeared in the corners of his eyes, and he reached out to tug at one end of her scarf. “Are you standing there wondering about the size of my package?”
    She felt heat rise to her already heated cheeks, and she was grateful they were already red from the cold. She pulled her scarf out of his grasp. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t wonder about you at all.” She walked around him and added, “Let alone the size of your package.”
    He tipped back his head and laughed. Deep, satisfied male laughter that chased her all the way to the front of the store. She mumbled a “Have a nice day” to Paul Aberdeen and Hayden Dean as she passed them on their way out of the M&S. Inside, Regina still hovered near Stanley, going on about the library where she worked, her thick glasses bobbing on the end of her nose as she nodded her head. Stanley busied himself with impulse items near the checkout. Normally Kate would have rescued him from Regina’s chatter, but Stanley had sicced Rob on her and she wasn’t feeling charitable at the moment.
    â€œI’ll be in the back,” Kate told her grandfather as she walked past. She pulled off her gloves and hat and unwound her scarf. She tossed them on the worktable and hung her coat on a hook. An overhead vent blew warm air on the top of her head. She lifted her face and closed her eyes.
    He remembered everything about the night she’d propositioned him. The