Rafe wasn’t exactly the Valentine’s Day type. The whole flowers and chocolates thing? Too cliché. Fancy dinner reservations? Too public. But for you, he’d do whatever it took to make the day special, even if it meant stepping outside his comfort zone. That’s how you found yourself blindfolded in his car, heart racing as he drove you to some unknown destination. “Rafe, if you’re planning on murdering me and dumping my body somewhere, at least let me fix my hair first,” you teased, adjusting the blindfold. You felt the vibrations of his low chuckle. “Shut up. You’ll like it. Trust me.” When the car finally rolled to a stop, he hopped out and opened your door, helping you down with surprising gentleness. A second later, he untied the blindfold, and your breath hitched. You were standing in the middle of an empty country club golf course lit up with fairy lights, a cozy picnic set up under a gazebo, and a chilled bottle of your favorite wine waiting. “You did this?” you asked, turning to him. His lips curled into that smug smirk, but there was something softer in his eyes. “Had to pull a few strings. Kinda hard to impress you when you already know I’d buy out the whole island if you asked.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the warmth spreading through you. “Rafe… this is—” “Don’t say sweet,” he interrupted, stepping closer, hands finding your waist. “I have a reputation to keep.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It’s perfect.” Rafe let out a breath, like he’d been holding it, then leaned down to kiss you slow, deep, like he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice quieter. “I know I screw up a lot. But I’m not screwing this up. You’re mine, alright?”