A quiet chuckle came through the line, warming something inside her. “I want to help, Ivy. Really help, not just criticize.”
The words settled over her like a warm blanket. “I’d like that,” she said.
Silence stretched between them, comfortable yet charged. Henry cleared his throat.
“Have dinner with me,” he said abruptly. “Saturday, at Fate Mountain Lodge. I already booked a table. If… if you want to, that is.”
Ivy pictured the luxury mountain lodge with its panoramic views and elegant dining room. She hadn’t been there in years.
“Henry Kincaid, are you asking me on a real date?”
“Yes.” The single word carried weight, hope threading through his deep voice. “I want to make things right between us.”
“I’d love to have dinner with you,” she said, her heart fluttering.
“Good. That’s…” He paused, taking a shaking breath. “I’m really glad.”
Saturday evening arrivedwith unexpected nervousness. Ivy stood before her mirror, smoothing the forest green dress that fell to just above her knees, elegant yet comfortable. She’d spent far too long deciding what to wear, changing outfits three times before settling on the dress that brought out the amber flecks in her eyes.
Her reflection showed excitement mingled with lingering uncertainty. The days since Henry’s call had brought progress with the nature center—new security cameras installed, police reports filed, construction continuing despite the setbacks. Yet practical concerns took a backseat to the anticipation building in her chest.
Her phone chimed with a text message: I’m outside.
Ivy took a deep breath, acknowledging the significance of the evening ahead. They’d connected physically in the storm-shrouded intimacy of his cabin. They’d endured their first real argument. Tonight felt like a deliberate choice to move forward with their bond.
She grabbed her small clutch purse and headed downstairs.
Henry waited beside his truck, and the sight of him stole her breath. He’d traded his usual flannel and work jeans for charcoal slacks and a button-down shirt the color of midnight. His dark hair was neatly combed, though she could see it fighting toreturn to its usual tousled state. He tugged at his collar as if the unfamiliar formality chafed against his skin.
He looked up as she approached, his eyes widening slightly.
“You look beautiful,” he said, the words coming out in a rush.
Ivy smiled, warmth blooming in her chest at his genuine reaction. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Ranger.”
A hint of color touched his cheeks as he opened the passenger door for her. The gesture was so unexpectedly gentlemanly that Ivy felt a surge of affection for his effort. This wasn’t the Henry who lived comfortably in isolation. This was Henry stepping far outside his comfort zone—for her.
The drive to Fate Mountain Lodge passed quickly, the winding mountain road revealing glimpses of valley lights below. When they arrived, Henry’s truck looked decidedly out of place among the luxury vehicles in the parking area. He seemed to notice it too, a flash of self-consciousness crossing his face before he squared his shoulders and came around to open her door.
“It’s been years since I’ve been here,” he admitted quietly as they approached the grand entrance. “Last time was my cousin Joy’s graduation dinner.”
“I haven’t been since Reeds twenty-first birthday,” Ivy replied. “But we used to come a lot when I was a kid. Dad and Levi Blackthorn were on Search and Rescue together.”
The lodge’s main entrance welcomed them with soaring timber beams and a massive stone fireplace crackling with warmth. The rustic luxury spoke to the mountain’s natural beauty while offering refined comfort. A hostess greeted themwith professional courtesy, checking Henry’s reservation before leading them through the dining room.
Their table sat near a wall of windows overlooking the lake. Candles cast a warm glow across the white tablecloth, reflecting in the polished silverware and crystal glasses. It was undeniably romantic.
After they were seated, a waiter with a professional manner approached their table. “Good evening. I’m Thomas. I’ll be your server. Would you like to hear our specials?” he asked.
Ivy and Henry nodded before he continued. “For appetizers, Chef Keenan is featuring Alpine Mushroom Tartlets—wild mushrooms sautéed with garlic and herbs, nestled in buttery pastry shells and topped with a drizzle of truffle oil.” The description alone sent earthy, aromatic notes wafting through Ivy’s imagination.
“We also have Mountain Stream Smoked Trout, house-smoked from local waters, served with pickled vegetables, caper berries, and rustic sourdough toast.”
“For main courses,” Thomas continued, “we’re offering a Black Angus Ribeye, grilled to your preference with woodland mushroom ragout, garlic herb butter, and rosemary roasted potatoes. And our Mountain Meadow Chicken features a free-range breast stuffed with herb cheese, wrapped in prosciutto, and served with wild rice pilaf and honey-glazed rainbow carrots.” Thomas folded his hands, awaiting their decisions.
“The tartlets sound wonderful to start,” Ivy said, drawn to the earthy flavors.
“And I’d like the ribeye for my main course,” Henry added decisively. “Medium-rare.”
