Get There: (Originally Published in the Print Anthology a RED HOT VALENTINE'S DAY) by Megan Hart

time they figured out what to do, she’d already spent half an hour on the phone with the realtor, trying to find a time to get the keys. The realtor had sounded as though she had a bad cold and agreed to leave the keys in the lockbox on the front door and give Edie the combination, rather than having her come to the office. By the time she got to the new house, night had fallen and she didn’t have a remote to open the garage door, so she had to park in the icy drive. All in all, it had been a pretty lousy day.
    So when Edie opened the door to their new house and found herself wading through a sea of red and pink balloons, all she could do was look around in surprise. Then she laughed. A few of the balloons floated through the door and into the February winter beyond, and Edie quickly shut the door to prevent further escapes.
    Her feet kicked balloons with every step down the short hall toward the kitchen. He must have had a couple hundred delivered. It was such a Ty thing to do. . . .
    And then there he was, standing in their new bare kitchen, a bottle of champagne in one hand and two long-stemmed glasses in the other.
    “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said.
    Balloons flew and a few of them popped as she ran to throw herself into Ty’s arms. The glasses clattered, sloshing Moët, but Ty’s mouth on hers was sweeter than any wine could ever have been. He set the bottle on the counter as he kissed her, then used his free arm to lift and spin her. The taste of him filled her and oh, it had been so long.
    “Too long,” Edie murmured against his lips as he set her down. “Oh, God, Ty, how did you get here? I thought you weren’t coming!”
    “And miss our first Valentine’s Day in the new house? No way.” Ty handed her a glass from which half the contents had spilled onto his arm and shirt. “I drove. Ham’s going to road-trip the moving truck down here, and I’ll pay for him to fly back. I promised him an introduction to some starlets, though, if you can help me out with that.”
    After all the long months and all the stories, having the real Ty here in front of her was almost too much to handle. Edie drew in a deep breath, willing herself not to cry. “I’ll see what I can do.”
    Ty took her in his arms again, settling her into that place where she fit just right. Edie closed her eyes and breathed in deep, the familiar scent of his soap and his skin. Ty’s chin rested on the top of her head and he squeezed her gently as they rocked to silent music.
    “But what about the paperwork and settlement?”
    “Well, as Ham pointed out to me, I could give him power of attorney, since he is a lawyer and all. He’s going to sign off on the papers for me.”
    Edie tilted her head to look at him. “Wow. That’s . . . you did all that just to get here?”
    “You’re not upset, are you?” he asked softly against her hair. “I could leave if you want. Go to a hotel—”
    She pushed away far enough to punch his chest. “Don’t you dare!”
    Laughing, Ty kissed her again. More champagne spilled when he lifted her onto the counter and stood between her thighs. His mouth, hot and wet, stole her breath as his tongue darted in to stroke hers.
    “We’re making a mess of the kitchen,” Edie whispered into his kiss. “Champagne’s for drinking, not spilling.”
    “I beg to differ, babe,” Ty whispered back. “Champagne is made for spilling if it means I can lick it off your body in all the places it drips.”
    “I like the sound of that.” Edie’s hand went to the top button of her blouse, then the others all in a row as Ty stepped slightly back. “You mean like this?”
    She tipped her almost empty glass toward her skin, bared by the open shirt. Golden liquid surged to the glass’s edge but didn’t spill out. She watched Ty’s face, his eyes glowing, tongue swiping over his mouth as though he were already tasting her.
    Edie leaned back to let her shirt fall open wider. The champagne hovered at the rim