Page 68 of The Promise Of Rain

But it did mark the first week of March and promised Spring hovered just round the bend.

Frostival kicked off Friday night with tubing down Main Street.Saturday’s festivities began with a Polar Bear Dip, moved into snowmobile drag racing, and ended with a giant bonfire on the beach complete with roasting marshmallows.

Ice fishing, skating, horse drawn sleigh rides, and the snowshoe obstacle course ran nonstop throughout both days.

Rather than having a central food and drink tent outside, outdoor offerings comprised of hot chocolate, roasted peanuts, and maple syrup rolled into lollipops on the snow.

Inside the school gymnasium, you could fill up on teeming bowls of pea soup or chili and peruse the displays set up by local craft vendors and artisans.

In addition, participants took part in a community scavenger hunt that led them around participating businesses and offered a chance to win a variety of prizes collected by the Women’s Auxiliary of which I’d never been a part.

I was probably the only female business owner in Moose Lake who wasn’t.

Buns and Biscuits had always taken part in the annual scavenger hunt.In honour of Ansel, I continued the tradition.

I even baked bear claws and cheesy buns especially for the festival.

Once closed, I usually holed up in my apartment with a hot drink and a much hotter fictional man.

Not this year.

Deacon picked me up as soon as I closed up shop.Ensuring I’d latched my seatbelt, he flattened my palm over his hard, jean-clad thigh and covered it with his hand.Then he drove me to see his place for the first time.

“I know this house,” I mused as he pulled in the driveway.I laughed.“I actually dreamed about buying it one day.”

The lower portion boasted grey and white stone which led to forest green siding and ended with an A-frame shingled roof sporting a stone chimney.Redwood steps rose to a curved entranceway that opened onto a small porch, just wide enough for two Adirondack chairs.

I’d loved that house since I was a teen.I’d seen the realtor’s pictures online, and the renovations made by the present owners catapulted it into my house of dreams.

He cocked a heavy eyebrow, his dark eyes lighting with speculation.“Really?”

I nodded then frowned.“You bought it?”

“Rented,” he muttered.“For now.”

“I’ve never been inside,” I commented.“But I’ve seen the pictures online.It’s beautiful.”

“Should I invite you in?”he teased.

I smiled.We were getting back to who we were.“If you know what’s good for you.”

He lifted my hand from his thigh and turned it over in his before kissing my palm.“I do.I do know what’s good for me, Jenny.”

I swallowed and nodded.

His words were sweet.I even believed he meant them; I just wasn’t sure for how long.

But now that the heartbreak was inevitable, I was going to soak up as much joy as I could.

Swallowing those dark thoughts, I reveled under the weight of his hand on my back as he guided me inside.

“Oh,” I breathed, shrugging off my coat.

It was better than I expected.

Sliding out of my boots, I smoothed my leggings and tugged my heavy-knit sweater down over my bum as I took it in.

The open concept kitchen and family room, decorated in shades of cream and oak, slid through my senses like butter and honey.