Snow Melts in Spring - By Deborah Vogts Page 0,68

risk just about anything if Mattie would return the affection he felt for her.

“I’m thinking the two of you probably need a few minutes alone.” Charlie’s voice echoed in Gil’s ears as though spoken from a distance. The woman had enraptured Gil’s senses.

He grasped her arm and led her to a quiet spot by a window overlooking the white lights of the city. “The last time we spoke, you were determined not to join me. In fact, I thought we were finished.”

Mattie looked out the window. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you the other day. I behaved like a switch-tailed mare. Spoiled and unwilling to give an inch. But I was wrong. I want you to know I’m here for you.”

“I scared you with my talk of California. I’m not used to people telling me no.” Gil tipped her chin to see into her sparkling green eyes. “You’re gorgeous with your hair down. It reminds me of the first time I saw you on Dad’s mare, with your curls blowing behind you in the wind.”

He swept his hand about the room and heard the juiced notes of a jazz orchestra. “Your being here makes all of this worthwhile. Do you know how close I was to leaving?”

She smiled, and Gil’s joy radiated all the way to his toes.

“I’m glad you stayed. Who else would give me a tour of this big city?”

Gil considered all the places he’d grown to love that he wanted to show her — Fisherman’s Wharf, Chinatown, Union Square, and of course the stadium. “We can start that tour right now.” He pointed out the window to a perfect view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

A waiter passed by with a plate of hors d’oeuvres. “Are you hungry?” Gil stopped the man and reached for a slice of pumpernickel topped with smoked salmon and chive cream cheese.

Mattie selected a piece of goat cheese on brioche with fruit chutney. Gil also grabbed one from the plate before the waiter left, his appetite returned now that Mattie was by his side. “Shall we mingle and see what else they have?”

At her nod, he took Mattie’s elbow and guided her around the room, introducing her to his friends and teammates. To his surprise, he found the mayor in attendance as well as the team’s owner and a dozen Super Bowl champions.

The two stopped at an ice sculpture of a quarterback passing a ball. “How does it make you feel, knowing they did all this for you?” Mattie stared at the replica and a mix of emotions crossed her face. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to live in your shoes. This entire city worships you.”

Gil shook his head. “It’s the image they love. You should have seen what they did for Montana. Now he was a man they loved.”

Mattie bit the corner of her lip. “I have to admit, most of the time when I’m with you, I don’t know how to feel. You’re a celebrity, even in our hometown, but when we’re at the ranch . . . when it’s just the two of us, you’re a normal person.” She stared down at her hands.

“That’s nice to know. There for a second, I thought maybe I was made of ice.” He tried to ease her embarrassment.

She gazed up with a spark of hope. “I’ve only known you a short while, yet you know my fears — my deepest hopes and dreams. Sometimes you make me so mad, and then at other times I think I’ve found my soul mate.”

Gil drew back at her words. But wasn’t this what he’d hoped for — to gain Mattie’s affections? Why then, did he suddenly feel like the world’s worst heel? He knew exactly why. Soul mates didn’t keep secrets, and they didn’t lie to each other. He should have told her about Jenna a long time ago, but he didn’t. If he told Mattie now, there was a good chance he’d lose her for good, soul mate or not.

THIRTY-FIVE

THE HESITATION ON GIL’S FACE CAUSED MATTIE TO REGRET HER RASH confession. She should have held her tongue. Waited to see how he felt before throwing all of her sentiments out on the floor before him.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said. “I’m not sure I’m worthy of your hard-earned trust.”

“What do you mean?” She clutched his lapel, wanting so much to reach out to him. “You’re caring, honest, dependable. You have problems with your dad, but who

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