Trouble with Valentine's Day
By Rachel Gibson
Rebound by Sagebrush
Copyright © 2005
Rachel Gibson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 9781417700615
Chapter One
Valentine's Day sucked the big one.
Kate Hamilton lifted a mug of hot buttered
rum to her mouth and drained the last drop.
On the "things that suck" scale, it ranked somewhere
between falling on her face in public and her
great-aunt Edna's bologna pie. One was painful and
embarrassing, while the other was an abomination
in the eyes of the Lord.
Kate lowered the mug and licked the corners of her
mouth. The hot rum heated her up from the inside
out, warmed her skin, and cast the room about her in
a nice, cozy glow. Yet it did nothing to lift her mood.
She was feeling sorry for herself, and she hated
that. She wasn't the sort of woman to sit around and
get all weepy. She was the sort to get on with life,
but there was nothing like one whole day devoted to
lovers to make a single girl feel like a loser.
A whole day of hearts and flowers, chocolate candy
and naughty undies delivered to someone else. Someone
undeserving. Someone who wasn't her. Twenty-four hours to remind her that she slept alone, usually
in a sloppy T-shirt. A whole day to point out that she
was just one bad relationship away from throwing in
the towel. From giving up her Fendi pumps for Hush
Puppies. From driving to the animal shelter and
adopting a cat.
Kate looked around the Duchin Lounge, where
she sat on a barstool inside the Sun Valley lodge.
Shiny heart garlands decorated the brass rails, while
roses and flickering candles sat on each tabletop.
Red and pink hearts were taped up behind the bar
and on the big windows looking out at snow-covered
pines, groomed runs, and night skiers. Spotlights
poured down the slopes, washing them in white gold
and darker shadow.
Those inside the Duchin were decked out in the latest
skiwear chic. Ralph Lauren and Armani sweaters,
UGG boots and Patagonia fleece vests. Kate felt a bit
like a poor relation in her jeans and dark green
sweater. Her sweater fit well and matched her eyes,
but it wasn't a brand name. She'd bought it at Costco,
along with a bag of bikini-cut Haines Her Way, a gallon
of shampoo, and about five pounds of margarine.
She turned sideways on her stool, and her gaze
moved to the big windows across the bar. When had
she started buying her underwear in bulk at a warehouse
instead of at Victoria's Secret? When had her
life become that pathetic? And why had five pounds
of margarine ever seemed like a good idea?
Outside the Duchin's windows, downy snowflakes
drifted past the outside lights and softly touched the ground. It had started snowing earlier that afternoon,
shortly after Kate had hit the Idaho/Nevada border,
and it hadn't let up. As a result of all that snow, the
drive to Sun Valley from Las Vegas had taken her almost
nine hours instead of the usual seven.
Normally, she would have driven straight through
without stopping, but not when it was snowing so
hard. Not when it was so dark that one wrong turn
in the Sawtooth Wilderness could land a girl in one of
those tiny towns where men were men and sheep
were nervous. The next morning she planned to drive
the last hour to the small town of Gospel, Idaho,
where her grandfather lived.
Kate ordered her third hot buttered rum and
turned her attention to the bartender. He looked to
be in his late twenties with curly dark hair, and he
had a wicked little glint in his brown eyes. He wore
a white dress shirt and black pants. He was young
and cute and wore a wedding ring, too.
"Can I get anything else for you, Kate?" he asked
through a smile that oozed boyish charm. He'd remembered
her name, a quality that made him a
good bartender, but the foremost thought in Kate's
head was that the man probably had a few girlfriends
on the side. Men like him usually did.
"No thank you," she answered and purposely
shoved her cynical thoughts to the back of her mind.
She didn't like that she'd become so negative. She
hated the pessimist who'd taken up residence in her
head. She wanted the other Kate back. The Kate
who wasn't so cynical.
At the tables and booths, couples laughed and
talked and shared kisses over bottles of wine. Kate's
Valentine's Day blues sank a little lower.
This time last year, Kate had been having dinner
in Las Vegas at Le Cirque with her boyfriend,
Manny Ferranti. She'd been thirty-three, Manny
thirty-nine. Over shrimp cocktail she'd told him
she'd booked them a suite in the Bellagio. Over
roasted veal she'd described the crotchless panties
and matching cutout bra she was wearing beneath
her dress. Over dessert she'd brought up the subject
of marriage. They'd been together for two years,
and she'd thought it was time to talk about their future.
Instead of talking, Manny had dumped her the
next morning. After he'd put the hotel suite and
those panties to good use.
At the time, Kate had been a little surprised at
how fine she'd been with the breakup. Well, maybe
not fine. She'd been plenty ticked off, but her world
hadn't fallen apart. She'd loved Manny, but she was
also practical. She didn't know why she hadn't seen
it before, but Manny was commitment phobic.
Thirty-nine and never married? The man obviously
had serious issues, and she didn't wanted to waste
her time with a man who couldn't commit. She'd
been there before, with other boyfriends who'd
wanted to date for years but never quite commit to
more. Good riddance to bad relationships.
Continues...
Excerpted from Trouble with Valentine's Day
by Rachel Gibson
Copyright © 2005 by Rachel Gibson.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
