The Curse of February Fourteenth

by Liz Isaacson

  Your choice, he told himself as he played a heart, the trump suit for this round. Sawyer growled in protest as Cal won the hand over his ace of diamonds. He stacked the cards in front of him, his mind still on Trina.

  You could have her back.

  He pushed his breath out in a slow stream. Help me release my anger, he prayed, something he’d been doing since Christmas. Every time he thought about the boot, he felt like the world’s biggest loser. Every time he pictured Trina, all he could think about was how she’d lied to him. Over and over again.

  And then he’d berate himself for not knowing. For not listening to his gut when it told him there was something she was hiding.

  There was. A lot of somethings. Her inexperience for the job. That she was a world champion tennis player. Those things he could handle—he had handled.

  But her being the butterfly and saying nothing….

  He shook his head as he lost a round he should’ve won.

  He left by ten and was sound asleep when the ball fell and the new year began.

  Cal strongly disliked January and half of February. Everyone had all these grand goals to work out, eat healthier, get organized. He kept his house sterile, and could eat whatever he wanted because he spent twelve hours a day on his feet. Check, check, and check.

  Truth was, he hated January, because it meant February was coming, and that meant Valentine’s Day. He thought five years would be enough to get over what Petra had done, but his heart felt twisted and poisoned inside his chest, and he wondered if his scars would ever heal completely.

  At the dawn of February, Bennett approached him for their ten-thirty check-in. Cal had to work over at Brynn’s today, and he did not want to run into Trina.

  “This is the last day I’m doin’ this, boss,” Bennett said. “She’s in the exercise yard, so I think you’re good to go to the stables.” His phone chimed, and he looked at it, a set of frown lines appearing between his eyes. “Did you know there’s a Valentine’s Day dance this year?”

  Cal snorted. “How would I know that? And no, I’m not going.”

  Bennett barely looked up from his phone, and annoyance sang through Cal. He wanted to argue with Bennett that he needed him to keep tabs on Trina, but the fact was, he didn’t. They’d perfected their come and go, ebb and flow routine, and he could avoid her easily now.

  It had been a couple of weeks since he felt like he’d break apart if he saw her, so that was good. Time really did heal a lot of things.

  His phone rang, and he plucked it from his pocket. Shock traveled through him in pulses when he saw Trina’s name and face on the screen.

  “You should answer that,” Bennett said, peering at the phone’s screen.

  “And you should mind your own business.” Cal sent the call to voicemail and left Bennett standing near the chicken coops.

  Why would Trina call him? His phone bleeped out a sound, indicating that she’d left a message. In the next moment, his text sound rose into the sky.

  Also Trina, and Cal’s eyes caught the first part of her message.

  Wanted to know if you would like

  Cal resisted the urge to tap on the notification and read the whole thing. He made it all the way through the office building and into the stables before he lost his willpower and opened the message.

  Wanted to know if you would like to go to the Valentine’s Day dance with me. They’re having it in the rec center.

  Another dance? Was she serious? Did she want to make him the biggest laughingstock in Three Rivers?

  Angrily, he shoved his phone in his back pocket and got to work. The faster he worked, the faster he finished. And the faster he finished, the sooner he could get on home, feed his dogs, and turn on a good documentary, one that would allow him a few minutes of relief from thinking about Trina.

  Chapter Twelve

  Trina had texted Bennett, Sawyer, and Brynn. Three times each. None of them could confirm that Cal was with them, and all of them said they’d tried talking to him about the Valentine’s Day dance, and that he’d shut them down pretty quick.

  Worry gnawed at her stomach. She really needed him to come to the dance. She’d volunteered to help put the event together, and she’d carefully guided the committee chairperson toward another dance, in the rec center, with a full dinner beforehand.

  She looked at the pair of tickets hanging on the fridge. She’d bought them the day they’d gone on sale, and now the dinner-dance was sold out. Cal had never answered her text, and never returned her phone call.

  She put a pot of water on the stove and got out a jar of spaghetti sauce and a box of noodles. When she’d gone home for Christmas, she’d told her family about Cal. About what she’d done and why. Her mother had suggested a way to make up with Cal, and Trina had gone down to the rec center to volunteer for the dance committee the day she’d arrived back in Three Rivers.

  Now she just needed to get Cal there, with the boot he still kept on his mantel. So maybe she’d “strolled by” his cabin to check that he still had it. She couldn’t describe the hope that had filled her chest when she found it still in its rightful place.

  While the noodles cooked, she couldn’t help walking over to the monarch butterfly wings hanging on the back of the closet door. They really were beautiful, and she really wanted to put them on and walk into the dance, her attention singular on Cal.

  Which would be super hard to do if he wasn’t there.

  Helplessness filled her, and she turned away from the wings, away from her thoughts, as the water over-boiled and hissed against the hot burner. The smell of burnt starch filled the apartment, and Trina hurried to clean up the mess though her phone chimed three times in quick succession.

  Anxiety urged her to wipe faster and twist the burner to a lower heat. Once that was done, she reached for her phone to find three messages from Bennett.

  He won’t come to the dance.

  Maybe you should think of something else.

  Sorry, Trina.

  The balloon of hope that had kept her going these past several weeks deflated all the way.

  Sorry, Trina.

  A freaky calmness descended over her, and she set the phone on the counter and resumed her preparation of the spaghetti. She stirred, drained noodles, and mixed everything together. She tonged herself a bowlful of food and sat down in front of her phone.

  But her appetite had fled. The very smell of oregano set her stomach turning, and she pushed the bowl further from her.

  All at once, an idea hit her.

  If Cal wouldn’t come to the dance, she’d go to him.

  She scrambled to get her phone, where she sent a message to Bennett. Do you want my tickets to the Valentine’s Day dinner and dance?

  You’re giving up?

  You just told me he wouldn’t come.

  I didn’t peg you for a quitter.

  Oh, I’m not quitting. I’m just changing tactics. She’d done it many times during a match. If she couldn’t wear her opponent out by hitting the ball from one corner to the other, she went for hard strokes right into the body. If that didn’t work, she tried a short ball barely over the net. Or skipping the ball off the baseline. Challenging balls she knew were in. Complaining to the chair umpire. Whatever she had to do to get inside the head of the woman across the net.

  Cal didn’t have a tennis racquet, and Trina had tried appealing to a higher power to help her. So far, nothing had worked.

  “But I’m not giving up,” she said to the butterfly wings.

  She marveled at this change in her. She’d fled her life when things went public with Carlos. Why was she willing to stay and fight for Cal when she hadn’t before?

  Because I love him.

  The answer was as clear as glass, easy to understand, and like a balm to her weary soul. Tears pricked her eyes, and she decided to try one more prayer.

  Please, she pleaded. Please help me to know what to do, and what to say, to get him to forgive me.

  An idea
popped into her mind, and she didn’t hesitate. Simply grabbed the wings and marched out the front door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cal heard the knock on his cabin door, but he ignored it. He could feign sleep if Bennett poked his head in. Could pretend he hadn’t heard the knock if it was anyone else.

  Except this knocking got louder and louder. Whoever it was wasn’t going away, so Cal heaved himself to his feet and crossed to the door.

  He yanked it open and barked, “What?” onto the porch.

  No one answered, but a glorious sight filled his eyes, making his heart thrum and his emotions spiral up and down, up and down.

  Trina stood there, maskless, wearing that tight pair of black jeans and the matching tank top. She only wore one black boot with light blue stitching, and he instantly wanted to get the other one and slip it on her foot, dance the night away with her in his arms. The glittery, orange and black butterfly wings made her seem unearthly. A goddess.

  He sucked in a breath. Just like that Halloween night, he felt a pull to her as strong as gravity. Though he tried to resist, he took one step toward her, unable to look away.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was a different person the night of the masked ball, and I didn’t want you to know that woman.”

  “I liked that woman,” he said through a raw throat.

  Trina flinched, almost like she hadn’t expected him to speak. “I think you have my boot,” she said. “I’d like it back.” She moved as if she’d enter his cabin, but he stepped in front of her.

  “You can’t have the boot.”

  She met his eyes, challenge in hers. “Why not?”

  “It’s mine.” Cal’s nerves calmed, shooting only pulses of hot energy through him instead of vibrating like he’d been plugged in to a live wire. “This beautiful, mysterious woman left it behind, and I found it.”

  “You can’t even wear it.”

  “I’m thinking of going around and having all the eligible ladies in town try it on, see if I can find out who it belongs to.” He leaned in the doorway, a playful smile on his face.

  Trina frowned more fully now. “I don’t understand. You’re not mad at me?”

  “I’m furious with you,” he said in a whisper. “But even angrier at myself.”

  “At yourself?”

  “For holding onto that boot, daydreaming about some woman I didn’t even know when I had a better one right in front of me.”

  She backed up a step, but Cal didn’t want her to go. “Stay,” he whispered. “Please stay.”

  “You’re home alone?” She tried to see past him, but his frame filled the doorway, and she focused back on him.

  “I’m always home alone,” he said, agony in his tone. He was tired of being alone. Tired of fixing a sandwich for dinner. Tired of only having documentaries for companions.

  “What about tomorrow night? Will you be alone then?” Trina asked, edging closer. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

  He swallowed. “Not my finest day.” In fact, he couldn’t wait for it to be over. Then he wouldn’t have to think about it again for a while.

  “I think we should change that,” she said, stepping fully toward him now. One, two. If she took a third, he’d be able to wrap his arms around her and hold her against his chest. Everything in him screamed at him to do that, but he remained as still as a statue.

  She put her hand on his chest, effectively branding him. “Let’s break this curse we both have on February fourteenth.”

  “How do you think we can do that?” He trailed one finger along the edge of her wing. He’d wanted her to be the monarch butterfly so many times. The fact that she was should be comforting, not angering.

  “See if that boot fits me.” She peered up at him with those gorgeous eyes, and it took every ounce of self-control Cal had not to lean down and close the two inches between them and kiss her.

  “I guess you can try it on,” he said.

  “If it fits, does that mean you’re my Prince Charming?”

  “I sure hope so,” Cal said, backing into the cabin. He took the boot from the mantel and gestured for her to sit on the couch. She perched right on the edge of it and held up her shoeless foot. He knelt in front of her and slipped the boot on easily. He glanced up at her, the silence between them almost to the breaking point.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered at the same time he said, “I’m sorry, Trina.”

  She grinned, which caused Cal’s chest to expand properly for the first time in months. “I’m going to kiss you now,” she said only a moment before she touched her lips to his.

  He took her face in his hands and matched the rhythm of her mouth, taking from her what he needed to be whole again. She seemed to be doing the same, and by the time she pulled away, Cal could finally breathe.

  “I missed you,” he said gruffly.

  “Should’ve brought the boot over earlier, I suppose.” She giggled, and he swooped onto the couch next to her and held her tight against his chest.

  “I felt like a fool,” he said, going straight for the confession. “I was humiliated, and I—it took me a long time to come to terms with those feelings.”

  “Because of Petra.” She wasn’t asking.

  “Because I wasn’t sure how I’d fallen in love with you so fast.”

  She sucked in a breath and held it. “I’m a different person now.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you still like that woman you met at the dance?”

  “I sure do,” Cal said, hoping he could explain. “She changed my world. She opened up my heart to the possibility of having another woman in my life. For years there, it was just me and Sabrina. No one else was invited. But she—you—changed that.” He exhaled and stroked his fingers up and down her bare arm, a tiny thrill passing through him at the softness of her skin.

  “So it was probably stupid, but I held onto the magic from that night. The butterfly was magic to me, and I didn’t want to just discount her.” He leaned over and brushed his lips along her temple, down to her ear.

  “I wanted her to be you,” he whispered. “Every day, I wanted her to be you.”

  She turned and looked him straight in the face. “I love you, Cal,” she said. A nervous laugh burst from her mouth. “It sounds so strange, but I feel it.” She tapped her chest, right above her heart. “The same way I felt so…peaceful at church the first time I went. Like it was just right.”

  Cal smiled, and the darkness that had been clouding inside his soul these past few months dissipated. “I know exactly what you mean.” He ducked his head closer. “And now I’m going to kiss you.”

  This time, he explored her mouth gently, giving all of himself to the woman he loved.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I looked you up online,” Cal said after she’d arrived at his house with a couple of take-and-bake pizzas in the shape of hearts.

  Trina seized, a guttural groan emanating from her throat. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” she said, setting his oven to the correct temperature. “Do we have to talk about this today?”

  He’d presented her with a dozen red roses at lunchtime and given her a German chocolate cupcake with a chocolate-dipped strawberry topper when she’d left the ranch after work. She just wanted to eat pizza and curl up with him on the couch. Maybe talk about the last documentary he’d watched or what the weather was like in London.

  Anything but what he’d seen online.

  “I just think you should know that I don’t care who she was,” Cal said, clearly wanting to talk about everything Trina didn’t.

  She turned to face him and crossed her arms. “You aren’t impressed with her serve? Her multiple Grand Slam wins? Her millions of dollars?”

  He didn’t even blink. “Nope.”

  “What do you like about her?”

  “That she came here.” He gave her a sexy smile and extended his hand toward her, an invitation to go with him. And because Trina loved him and wanted to be near him, she
slipped her fingers in between his and let him lead her out to the front porch.

  He sighed as he sat on the top step, drawing her down with him. “I don’t care about the serve, or the titles, or the money.”

  “I know you don’t.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, glad for an easy place to land when things got hard.

  “I do want to see the trophy room in your house in California.”

  She tensed. He’d done more than look her up online. He’d read articles. “It’s boring,” she said. “All this gold and silver the light glints off of. Bad for the eyes.”

  “What are you going to do about that house?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Sell it, I guess.”

  “Because you’re staying here, right?”

  She looked over to him at the nervous undertone in his words. “Cal, of course I’m staying here.”

  “I live in a two-bedroom cabin,” he said. “It’s not a house in the hills. Not even close.”

  She lifted her chin and glanced down the gravel path toward the homestead. “Hills are overrated.”

  He chuckled and lifted her knuckles to his lips. “I’m so glad you came to Three Rivers,” he murmured, moving his mouth to her wrist.

  “Me too,” she said.

  “I may not be glad about how we got here, but the important thing is that we did. We survived.” He looked at her, and she caught a desperate edge in his eye.

  “We sure did,” she said.

  “So money or no money, titles or no titles, fame or no fame, I’m glad you’re here.” He gave her a small smile and dropped his gaze to the steps in front of him.

  She stood, an idea blooming in her head. “Come on,” she said, tugging on his hand to get him to come with her.

  “What?” he asked as she towed him back into the house.

  She glanced around, but could only find the television as a source of music. “You don’t have a radio?” she asked.

  “A radio? No, I don’t have a radio.”