Author's Note: Happy February, POstables! Did anyone else wonder if we would make it through January? It did seem like an incredibly long month, but it gave me time to start on this story that's been floating around in my head for quite a while.

Does anyone else get frustrated by Oliver's behavior in From the Heart? I've always found Shane to be filled with endless grace for him in the face of the accusations he throws at her. I've often wished she would call him on it and not give him the pass she does. This is my alternate universe version of From the Heart that gives me the opportunity to explore a different reaction in Shane. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

As always, I am forever thankful to Martha, Eric, Kristin, Geoff, and Crystal for creating and bringing us these amazing characters.

Chapter 1

The small calendar icon on her phone blared that it was not only Monday but also February first. The Monday part didn't bother her so much. After all, she loved her job and her teammates, and she loved...Her eyes clamped shut as if doing so would make the image of, and her feelings for, her supervisor magically disappear. It never worked. Her feelings for Oliver O'Toole had been gradually building since their first meeting at the coffee cart.

Initially, it was an undeniable spark of physical attraction. His blue eyes captured her attention, and their easy repartee made her instantly intrigued by him. But as she spent more time with him and got to know him better, his dedication to their work, the kindness he showed to both friends and strangers and his underlying vulnerability all combined to create an irresistible pull. While they were, in many ways, like opposite poles of a magnet, she felt drawn to him with an undeniable force.

Despite the many twists and turns their relationship had taken, she was hopelessly in love with him. Not that he seemed to notice. They had gotten so close to taking their friendship to a new level while in Washington, DC, but then everything happened with Randi Lynn, and Oliver's proposal for a dinner—just the two of them—was forgotten for the time being. Sandwiches on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial weren't what she'd envisioned, but after a week filled with committee hearings, the Miss Special Delivery pageant, and an unplanned reunion with Steve, she would have been happy to share a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of water if it meant being alone with Oliver.

After returning to Denver, it felt as if the magic of Washington, DC, had been a disappearing act. Day after day, she watched him from her perch near his desk. A flash of excitement coursed through her as she imagined what an actual date with Oliver O'Toole might look like. Week after week, she let herself get her hopes up. Every Friday evening, she returned to her car with tears stinging her eyes, as once again, there was no mention of dinner from Oliver. She was beginning to think it might be time to accept that they were too different to maintain any magnetic attraction.

Now it was February, and with it came an avalanche of hearts and chocolates that greeted her on every trip to Target and the grocery store. She couldn't escape it. Every aisle was filled with red and pink hearts, and the constant reminders only made her heart ache with memories of past Valentine's Days.

Shane's aversion to Valentine's Day ranked right up there with her refusal to acknowledge Christmas, and it all began with Joe Cook. She was too young to know it at the time, but the punch on the shoulder that accompanied the card he thrust at her on the playground seemed to set the tone for future Valentine's Days, even if it was his second-grade way of showing affection.

In high school, it was the humiliating sweetheart dance where she quickly morphed into a wallflower as her date laughed and danced with every girl but her. When she could stand it no more, she made her escape to the girl's bathroom, where she stood in front of the mirror watching mascara-stained tears fall onto the red satin ruffle of her dress. It was the dress she'd begged her mother to buy her, even though money was always tight since her dad walked away from their family.

Valentine's Day fared no better once she was in college. She never dated seriously, so when a classmate in her cybersecurity class asked if she wanted to have dinner with him, she assumed it was just two friends eating together. The fact that it was Valentine's Day didn't influence her acceptance of his invitation. She'd insisted that they 'go Dutch' to make sure he understood that, in her mind, it wasn't a date. He walked her back to her dormitory, which she appreciated, but his attempt to kiss her was not. It might have been sweet had he not been so awkward and if she'd had even an inkling of interest, which she did not. However, he was clumsily persistent, and she finally had to push him away and make a quick escape inside the building.

Then there was Steve. Always the extravagant romantic, he asked her to dinner well in advance. Finally, she thought, someone who understands that Valentine's Day is about romance. Standing in front of her mirror, she twirled gracefully, layers of red chiffon floating around her like a cloud. The bodice of the dress hugged her figure and accentuated her curves flawlessly. The deep v-neckline highlighted the length of her slim neck and plunged just deep enough to draw attention while retaining an air of elegance. She'd admired her reflection, feeling especially pretty and hoping Steve would think the same. She spun around again, envisioning herself dancing in his arms.

The ring of the doorbell snapped her from her musings. She glanced at her watch, noting it was much too early for Steve. She opened the door to find a delivery boy holding a long, sleek gold box tied with a red satin bow. The slump of the driver's shoulders and his dulled expression told her he must have spent the day driving the streets of Denver, bringing flowers to wives, mothers, and girlfriends throughout the city. She told him to wait and grabbed her purse to get him a tip. Taking the box inside, she returned with her wallet, and feeling exceptionally generous and a little sorry for him, she held out a ten-dollar bill. His eyes perked up, and he took it, thanking her profusely before stumbling down the porch steps and back to his car.

A smile crossed her face. It must have been his best tip of the day, she thought. Pulling gently on the ribbon's tails, she watched as the loop of the knot loosened and the bow released. As she gently lifted the lid, she could smell the fragrance of the dozen long-stemmed red roses before she set eyes on them. The blooms on the long, slender stems were a deep, almost burgundy color. They were still partially closed, and Shane gently ran a finger along one, its velvety texture soft on her skin. Her stomach did a little flip as she reached for the card. She'd gotten flowers before, but never anything so elegant and extravagant. Slipping the note from its envelope, the first word that jumped out to her was 'sorry.' Any excitement she experienced disappeared quickly. Biting her lip, she continued to read.

'I'm sorry, beautiful. I had to leave town unexpectedly. I promise to make it up to you. Love, Steve.'

Shane slumped onto the nearest chair. The wind was knocked from her sails as disappointment washed over her. She caught her reflection in the mirror across the room. The dress that made her feel beautiful just minutes before suddenly lost its luster, and she quickly took it off, leaving it in a pile on her closet floor as she reached for her softest, most threadbare sweats and pulled them on. The rest of the night was spent on the couch, eating pizza, drinking wine, and watching a movie. Romance and the sweet kisses of new love were on every channel. Shane shook her head as she flipped from station to station. Don't they know that anyone watching a movie tonight is probably home alone on what is supposed to be the most romantic day of the year? Rummaging through her DVDs, she found her copy of The Princess Bride. The witty dialogue and deadpan humor usually had her laughing throughout, but even this was a love story between Buttercup and Westley, and as much as she tried to lose herself in the movie, her mind kept drifting to the note that came with the roses and the growing dissatisfaction she felt with her relationship with Steve.

Her alarm sounded again, jolting Shane from the painful trip down memory lane. She remembered that it was a workday, and she needed to get up. Reaching over, she tapped off the bluesy notes set as the alarm on her phone, rolling herself out of bed with the same lack of enthusiasm she felt for what the next couple of weeks had in store.

She passed Rita and Norman on her way to the DLO.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"A box showed up at the Terminal Annex, and they told Oliver they didn't know what to do with it, so he sent us to pick it up," Norman explained.

Shane watched them walk away, in step with each other, their shoulders nearly touching. Their hands swung at their sides, and their knuckles occasionally brushed against one another, maintaining a silent connection that remained work appropriate. They are so cute together, she thought, happy for her friends who, once they acknowledged their feelings, had become inseparable. Oh, to have that kind of love, she sighed.

Shane's stomach lurched as she stepped into the DLO. Her eyes went straight to Oliver's desk, where she found him propped on one elbow, his forehead resting in one hand, and a pen in the other, engrossed in some form or another.

Oliver glanced up from his work. "Good morning, Ms. McInerney."

"Good morning, Oliver." She reached deep for her cheeriest voice. She paused when she felt Oliver's touch as he helped her with her coat.

"I trust you had a good weekend?"

Her mouth went dry when his warm breath brushed against her neck, and the timbre of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Swallowing hard, she answered. "I did. I went to the gym, had coffee with a friend, and read a good book."

"Ah. Well, I hope you were able to recharge. There's a box coming from the Terminal Annex that has everyone curious as to its contents."

"Yes, I saw Rita and Norman when I was walking in." Oliver was his usual business-like self. She felt tempted to reveal that the friend she had coffee with was Grant, someone from her gym whom she had met a few weeks earlier. They had enjoyed coffee after a Saturday morning workout, which had quickly turned into a Saturday morning ritual. He had even asked her out to dinner once, but she had declined.

She had just ordered her skinny vanilla latte at the gym's coffee counter when she heard a voice behind her.

"Are you a black coffee fan, or do you lean towards something more elaborate?"

Shane sighed. She wasn't particularly interested in making small talk but engaged out of politeness. She was greeted with the same easy smile that, until now, she had only seen across the gym. He had showered after his workout and smelled of citrus and eucalyptus, appearing relaxed in a navy pullover, well-worn jeans, and loafers. An unsettling wave of self-consciousness washed over her, and she brushed shaky fingers across her forehead, wiping away the sheen of sweat.

She laughed softly. "I'm a skinny vanilla latte girl." She pulled out some cash from her wallet. "What about you?"

"I'm a black coffee kind of guy." He reached into his pocket. "And I've got this."

Shane studied him, instantly questioning his motive. "You don't need to do that."

"But I want to," he said, handing some cash to the clerk before Shane could stop him. "I like to pay it forward whenever I can. I'm Grant, by the way."

Shane relaxed. "Shane," she replied, reaching out her hand to shake his.

"Are you in a hurry to leave, or do you have a few minutes to join me?" he asked, nodding toward one of the tables. He posed the question with a disarming smile that quickly put Shane at ease.

Shane glanced at her watch. She wasn't on any particular timetable today, but the idea of committing to what could turn into mundane chit-chat without a graceful exit plan was definitely not on her list of things to do. "Uhm, sure. I've got a few minutes," she said.

Her concern about boring chit-chat was unfounded as their conversation flowed easily and was filled with the usual questions asked and answered when two people were first getting to know each other. Grant told her he'd recently moved to Denver from Chicago and was a detective in the Denver police department's cold case unit.

"What's the cold case unit?"

"We take the cases that are anywhere from several years to decades old that haven't been solved, and we investigate them using a new set of eyes and the newest technology, hoping to bring resolution."

Shane's eyes widened. "That sounds intriguing. What made you choose Denver?"

"I was tired of the big city, and I love the mountains." He sipped from his cup and asked. "Denver has big city amenities, but I can go to the mountains whenever I want. What about you? Are you a Denver native?"

"No. June will be two years since I moved here from Washington, D.C. I was transferred from USPS Direct Line Operations, and now I provide tech support in the Dead Letter Office at the Denver main branch."

"What's the Dead Letter Office?"

Shane paused for a moment. "Think of it as the cold case unit for the post office. We track down senders and recipients of letters and packages that never made it to their intended destination."

"So, we have similar jobs, except I work with people, and you work with mail."

Shane rarely felt the need to defend her work, but the DLO wasn't just her job. It had woven itself into the very fabric of her being and she no longer separated herself into work Shane and home Shane. She credited her transformation to Oliver and his unwavering passion for their work, which served as inspiration. "We work with people too. One case we solved got a young woman a kidney. And another time, we were instrumental in the return of a missing soldier in Afghanistan. It's not just about returning letters."

A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest that what you do isn't important work."

Shane calmed. "No, I'm sorry. I always feel the need to explain why what we do is so important. I assume people hear 'post office' and assume it's a bunch of clerks shuffling letters, packages, and junk mail. But it's so much more than that. They're not just letters. They're lives, and we take our responsibility seriously."

Grant nodded. "I've never really thought of it like that. But I have learned never to assume anything. If there's one thing my work has taught me, it is that people are always looking for resolution, and I guess it doesn't matter if it's a missing person or a missing letter."

"At least in my job, most of our resolutions are happy. I don't imagine that's the case for you."

"Rarely. But it's interesting and important work, so even if I can't give someone a happy ending, I hope I can at least give some peace of mind and closure in what is often a tragic situation."

The once white, airy foam on Shane's latte had deflated into a watery puddle of off-white swirls against a canvas of brown liquid. She glanced at her watch and realized they'd been talking for almost forty-five minutes. Time had flown by, but talking with Grant felt comfortable, like sitting down with an old friend. Her initial wariness had evaporated quickly, and if she didn't actually have errands to run, she might have lingered longer. "Oh, gosh, I need to get going. It's supposed to snow, and for some reason, people forget how to drive in the snow." She grabbed her gym bag that had been relegated to the chair next to her and stood to leave. "Thanks for the coffee."

Grant also stood, towering over Shane with his tall frame and broad shoulders. "It was my pleasure." He grabbed his bag and walked with Shane to her car. "Shane, would you be interested in having dinner sometime?"

Shane shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "Uhm," was all she could manage. It had been a long time since she'd received an invitation to dinner with an engaging, friendly, and undeniably attractive man. His hair was blonde, streaked with strawberry highlights. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and his eyes sparkled like blue sea glass when the sunlight hit them at just the right angle. The light freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and nose made it hard to guess his age. He had an easy smile, which he'd flashed at Shane across the gym when their eyes happened to meet.

Grant checked off every one of her boxes except the one that loomed largest. He wasn't Oliver, and even though any progress she and Oliver had made toward a relationship had stalled, her heart still held a flicker of hope that he would become... they would become more than just work colleagues and friends.

Grant glanced away, and when he returned his gaze, disappointment clouded his expression. "Never mind. The downside of being a detective is that I'm trained to read people, and your expression tells me the answer is no."

Shane tried to soften her rejection. "I appreciate the invitation, really, but you're right, I have to say no."

Grant kicked the toe of his shoe into the parking lot's asphalt. "No worries. I should have known better. Intelligent, articulate, and beautiful women like you are usually taken."

Her cheeks flushed bright red. "I'm sorry." Her eyes softened, and she offered him the faintest of smiles. "I'm just not in a position to say yes."

He held out his hand and shook Shane's, his grip lingering. "What would you say to just being friends."

Shane's desk rattled as she rolled it to a spot better suited to keeping her eye on Oliver. The battle raging within her was a push-and-pull tug of war between her heart and her mind. For six months, she'd waited with patience for Oliver to make a move. However, she had to admit her patience was wearing thin. It wasn't that she didn't have options. Grant hadn't asked her out again since she'd turned him down, but they'd continued their after-work-out coffee conversations on Saturday mornings. Her thoughts were interrupted by Norman and Rita barreling through the DLO doors with a cart carrying a box that certainly looked worse for the wear, as though it had been tossed from USPS mail sorter conveyor belts more than once in its lifespan.

The four gathered around, their eyes fixed on the battered carton that now sat next to Norman's mini lab. They stared silently as if they waited long enough, a jack-in-the-box might spring through the flaps, revealing the hidden secret of what lay within.

"Norman, would you like to be the first to look inside?" Oliver stood across from Shane, separated by the cart, with his hands firmly clasped behind his back.

Norman gave a quick nod and carefully lifted the lid while the other three leaned in to get a glimpse of the mysterious contents. Inside was a sea of red and pink envelopes, each in various sizes.

Oliver pulled one from the top of the pile and held it up to study it carefully. "The postmark on this one is from two years ago." He continued to sift through and pulled out several more. "These are all from two years ago."

"Ms. McInerney, Rita, could you please go through the rest of the contents and sort them by zip code so we can figure out where they belong?" Oliver pulled his watch from his jacket pocket and snapped open the cover. "I've got a department head meeting I need to attend."

Rita and Shane settled at a long worktable with the box positioned between them.

"Don't you wonder what's in these cards?" Rita asked. "It's so sad. What if someone was using their Valentine to profess their undying love for someone?"

Shane chuckled. "Rita, you are even more of a romantic than I am." She added another card to the pile of letters that had issues with the address and would require her computer skills to get them to the appropriate person.

"I'm excited about Norman's and my first Valentine's Day together," Rita giggled. "I offered to cook for him, but he said he wanted to take me out."

Shane offered Rita a warm smile and reassured her. Leaning closer so that Norman wouldn't hear, she said, "I believe Norman will do everything possible to ensure it's a very special day for you, Rita."

"What about Oliver?"

"What about Oliver?"

"Has he asked you out for Valentine's Day?"

Rita's question pricked at Shane, and she tossed a card with such force that it slid across the table and onto the floor. "No," she said firmly, "and I don't think he will."

"Of course he will. The chemistry between the two of you is off the charts. I mean, he looks at you all the time."

The cards in Shane's hands dropped onto the table. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh yeah, he does it all the time."

A chill ran through Shane at Rita's revelation. She was guilty of the same thing, and if what Rita said was true, she was amazed that their stolen glances hadn't met at some point.

"I think you're exaggerating, Rita. He might have shown a glimmer of interest at one point, but whatever was there has definitely faded." Shane went back to shuffling the undelivered mail as she watched Rita cross the room to ask Norman a question. Had Rita noticed something she hadn't? Her friend's words were just enough to keep her hopes alive.