Chapter 25

Valentine

“This property is stunning,” April says as we walk around the exterior of the house.

“Well, the house needs a lot of work but that’s part of the fun of it, right?” I tell her as I admire my new home. It sets just about two miles south of East Merritt and is nestled back in the woods. The prior owners didn’t take the best care of it and it was built over twenty-five years ago so it needed some updating, but the bones of it are perfect. It sits in an L shape with the porch right in the crook of the L. It’s a single story except right in the middle. From the foyer, a spiral staircase leads to the circular loft master bedroom with an en suite bath—although it’s quite small—and a tiny dry sauna. My favorite part, though, is the gorgeous wood-burning stove tucked into the corner in the living room.

We walk into the backyard and climb the four steps to the back deck. The woods around my house are thick, but they make the back deck private and secure feeling. Not going to lie and tell you I’m not afraid of bears, because I am, but at least I don’t have to worry about Sassy. She’s a city dog and I left her in the loving care of Jeremy and Aubrey, who I will admit dotes on her more than I did. I guess I can grudgingly say I’ve come to like Aubrey, particularly since it was mostly her pain-in-the-ass visits that got me up and out of bed.

“Boy, when you decide to do something, you go all out,” April says as she follows me onto the deck, referring to the fact I’ve up and moved to Alaska, purchasing property, all with the hopes of getting Logan back. We both settle into a double-seater swing screwed into the deck overhang with thick bolts.

“Well, my gesture had to be grand, right?”

“Have you two talked?” she asks.

I shake my head. The only problem in my grand plan is that he’s not giving me the time of day. Or, at least the time I need to have some meaningful discussion with him.

“I still think he’s a little sore,” I murmur as I let my gaze sweep the thick forest that creeps right up to the back of my little house. Last night I heard something big walking around, which April told me was probably a moose. Which is why one of the first things I did when I moved here was insist she teach me how to handle a shotgun. I’ve got two in my house now. One mounted above my bed, and the other in my foyer coat closet.

I’ve been back in East Merritt for little more than a week, although I just moved into this house two days ago. I still have a ton of unpacking to do, but I’ve been working on it when I can get the chance because since I’ve moved here I’ve been really, really busy.

You see…I started up a new blog.

Valentine’s Couch is dead, and I still have moments of tremendous shame when I think of it, but last week I opened up Valentine’s Back Deck, and I will be chronicling how a big-city girl becomes an Alaskan wilderness woman. I’ve got all kinds of awesome stuff set up. I’m going to learn how to fish, which also includes tying my own flies, cleaning said fish, and even smoke curing them. Of course, that’s going to come after I build my own curing house on my property. That’s right…I’m going to build it myself, as I have found that there isn’t anything you can’t learn on YouTube. I’m going to learn how to hunt and clean my own game, and I’m going to get into hiking. This came only after April assured me there was bear spray I could use as a deterrent and that she’d teach me how to use a GPS unit. Tomorrow she and Jorgen are taking me camping, and that will be an awesome blog article. In addition to the upgrades I’m going to make on my house all by myself, I’ve got plenty of stuff to blog about for years to come I’m sure. I’m certain this type of blog will be a relief to my parents—focusing on home improvements and gutting fish versus how to give the perfect blow job. I don’t know for sure, since they didn’t really care that I left New York City to move to Alaska, but that’s okay by me. I moved toward what I hope is my new family.

In fact, one of the first things I’m going to blog about is how I’ve learned to drive—not all that well to be honest—and getting my driver’s license.

Which is really why April is here today.

“You ready to go?” I ask her as I push up off the swing.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she says as she follows me. “But honestly, you should just drive yourself there. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I laugh as I trot down the steps of the deck. “Let’s see…I show up to take my driver’s test while driving a car without a license. Logan would probably arrest me.”

April gives an evil laugh. “I don’t think that could be a bad thing.”

April pulls up and parallel parks outside the police station, right behind Logan’s truck. She jumps out, tosses me the keys, and says she’ll meet me at The Wounded Caribou after.

I take a deep breath, tell myself I can do this—face Logan and pass my driver’s test—and pull open the door. I immediately see him sitting inside his office on the other side of the lobby. His head rises, he looks at me shrewdly for a moment, and then he stands up from his desk. He rounds it and comes out into the lobby to face me.

“If you’ve come to apologize to me for what you wrote, I really don’t need to hear it,” he says, and it’s not in an unkind way, but it’s still off-putting.

“Actually, I believe I’ve already apologized,” I say simply.

He blinks at me. “You have?”

“Yes, Logan,” I say softly. “That day you found out about the blog and confronted me, I gave you a genuine, heartfelt apology that was from the bottom of my soul. Clearly you don’t remember it, which I totally understand. Emotions were high. So let me assure you again, I’m very sorry for what I did.”

“Well…okay then,” he stammers. “What can I do for you?”

“I want to take my driver’s license test,” I tell him with a nervous smile. “I think I’m ready. No…I know I’m ready. I can do this.”

If I thought he’d give me a reassuring smile or words of encouragement, I was wrong. Instead he just nods toward the reception desk in the middle of the lobby that’s always been empty every time I’ve walked in here. “Sit there and I’ll get the written test for you.”

“Then we have to do the driving test, right?” I ask, just to make conversation as I sit where he indicated.

“Yup,” he says over his shoulder while he walks back into his office. I watch as he pulls open a lateral file drawer, fishes inside a folder, and pulls out a document. My stomach flip-flops with nerves. I really need my license so I can maneuver around this area, particularly since my home is outside of the town.

He walks back into the lobby and lays the test down in front of me, along with a pen. “Just holler when you’re done.”

“Okay,” I say as I pick up the pen and look at the first question. I ignore Logan as he walks back to his office, my concentration needed fully on this test.

Logan buckles up and I do the same. My palms are sweaty as I turn the ignition over on the silver Chevy Tahoe I bought last week from some guy in Ketchikan. It’s about ten years old but Jorgen looked it over for me and said it was in great shape. I know I could have bought something new but everyone here drives old trucks and I want to fit in.

“This yours?” Logan asks as I put my left turn signal on and check the side mirror for traffic.

“Yeah,” I mutter as I start to ease onto Main Street.

“You didn’t check your blind spot,” he points out, and I slam on the brakes, halfway out of the parallel space with my heart hammering.

“Jesus, you scared me,” I say as I look at him with round eyes.

“Check your mirror and over your shoulder before you merge,” he says politely, and thankfully does not put down any type of mark on the clipboard on his lap.

“Got it.” I manage to do as he says and merge safely onto Main Street. “Where do you want me to go?”

“I don’t care,” he says offhandedly. “Just drive around and show me what you can do.”

I head south out of town toward my house, not because I’m going to show it to him, but because I’m curious if he knows I bought it. We’re silent as we drive along and I keep the speed at five miles below the limit. I’m not only nervous this is my driving test, but I’m extremely uncomfortable being in such tight confines with Logan, who is as big, beautiful, and alluring as ever.

With the exception that he hates me.

“Who taught you to drive?” Logan asks, and I don’t dare to turn my head to look at him. I can’t tell if he’s just trying to make polite conversation or avoid awkward silence, but I keep my eyes on the road.

“April a few times. Monte took me out once,” I tell him.

“He didn’t seem too bent out of shape about what you wrote about him in your blog,” Logan says with a bit of derision in his voice.

“He accepted my apology,” I say simply. “I actually wrote a lot of apology notes when I got back to New York to those I’d wronged. And even those I didn’t actually blog about, I let them know I was sorry if I embarrassed their town.”

Logan doesn’t say anything, and when I risk a slight look to my right, I see him just staring out the passenger window. I turn to look back at the road and wonder how far he wants me to drive.

“Heard you bought the old Willard place,” Logan says, and it’s a well-timed comment, as the house is about a half a mile up the road.

“I did,” I say, pleased he’s actually initiated conversation. “Want to see it?”

“Nah,” he says as if it’s the last thing in the world he’d want to do. “I’ve seen it before when Tim and Molly lived there. Nice place, though.”

“I have a lot to fix up,” I say cheerfully, because I really can’t wait to get started on some things. I even bought a sewing machine and was going to learn how to use the damn thing to make my own curtains. My friends back in New York would shit if they could see me now.

“A lot of guys around town could use extra work,” Logan says flatly. “You won’t have any problem getting stuff fixed up.”

“I plan on doing it all myself,” I tell him confidently.

Logan’s head snaps my way and I risk a quick look. He’s astonished by my proclamation that I’m doing the work myself, but all he says is, “Let’s head back into town. You can use your driveway to turn around.”

“Okay,” I say, and manage a fluid turn into my driveway, as well as an excellent execution of backing out again to return to town.

The ride back is silent and I’m okay with that. I am here in East Merritt trying to make a new life. That is very true. But I can make a new life anywhere. I’m here because Logan is and I’m bound and determined to win his heart back.

He’s a stubborn ass, though, and I expect his pride is what’s holding things up. Tabby suggested as much because Logan’s taken a lot of shit from his friends about the articles, particularly about his impressively sized package and ability to hand out orgasms. Tabby seems to think that if he lets me back in, his manly reputation will take a hit.

I didn’t understand this but she explained, “Val…you wrote shit that embarrassed him. He took a lot of flak for it. The best way he can prove his studliness to his buds is by cutting you out. He doesn’t want to look pussy whipped, and if he lets you just get away with that crap, that’s exactly what his friends will think.”

“So?” was how I responded. I just didn’t get the big deal.

“It’s just the way it is with Logan,” she explained. “His ego is sturdy, but it’s not impenetrable. No man’s is.”

“So what do I have to do? Kiss his ass or something?”

“No way,” she told me with a laugh. “Trust me…that boy wants you. Just put yourself in his path and he’ll eventually get off his ass and come after you.”

“And how do you know he wants me?” I had asked her breathlessly and was embarrassed by how important that answer was.

Tabby’s voice was affectionate to me, and this said something, since we’d only been friends for a few weeks and we’d only ever talked and texted.

She told me, “Because he talks about you with me. He’s angry he lost you. Granted, he’s angry at you, but he knew what you two had was special, despite him acting like what you did cheapened it. He’ll come around. Trust me.”

And so that was the big game plan. For me to be visible and hope he gives in to attraction and feelings for me. For him to remember what we had was real, and wasn’t made less real just because I did something really stupid.

I’ve told him I’m sorry.

I can only hope he really accepts it, because that’s the only way he’ll let me back in.