Page 3 of Sweet Valentine

I walk toward my desk and sigh, eyeing all the tests that need to be graded. It’s going to be a long night. I grab my red pen, sit at my desk, and start, knowing the faster I get this done, the sooner I can get home.

“Knock, Knock!” I look over at my open door and see Sarah standing there, a huge smile on her face, her grey hair in that unmistakable bun on the top of her head. Sarah has always been an amazing help to me, especially when I started here at Sir John Beck Elementary School three years ago. I was new, the parents didn’t trust me, and the kids were wary. Sarah, being the amazing woman she is, helped me gain their trust by telling me to bribe them with different rewards: candy, stickers, prizes, etc. Was I happy about it? Not really. Did it work? Absolutely.

“Sarah! What are you doing here so late?” I glance at my phone and see that it’s after six. Damn, I need to hurry the hell up so I can have a beer and watch some of the hockey game.

“Oh, you know, the life of a teacher never stops,” she says dismissively. I smile as she makes her way into the room and takes a seat at one of the kids’ desks. “I have an ulterior motive in stopping by, Noah.” I lean back in my chair and rest my hands behind my head.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in doing a little Valentine’s project with my class.” I look over at my calendar that sits on the wall and see that Valentine’s Day is in a week. I completely forgot.

I mutter a curse as I search my brain for an idea of what to do for the kids.

“I take it you forgot about the holiday of love?” I look over and see the smirk on her face and place my head in my hands. How could I forget about Valentine’s Day? I mean, I have a huge heart on my calendar to remind me. Now I have a week to figure this out, but Sarah beats me to it. “Like I suspected, I am here to save the day.”

“What’s your idea for saving the day?” She gives me a knowing look, and I chuckle.

“Well, for one, our classes are the same grade, and we’re down the hall from each other so proximity isn’t an issue.” My eyes meet hers, and I motion for her to get to the point. “I think our kids should write letters to each kid in the other class in the form of a Valentine, and then we can have an afternoon party.”

I think on it for a minute, and I like the idea…somewhat. “It’s a good idea, but I have a few issues.”

“Seriously? It’s just kids writing Valentine cards to each other…what’s the issue?”

“These kids are seven or eight-year-olds, right?” She nods, and I continue. “Well, that’s the age when kids start liking each other, and I’m worried that making them write Valentines to one another will give some of the kids the wrong idea.”

Sarah sits back and tilts her head. “You have a point. Do you have another idea?” she asks. Immediately, an idea forms.

“What if we make the kids write letters to some of the folks at the senior care center down the road? They can make the cards, and I can bring in some treats, and we can head over to deliver them.” Sarah gives me her megawatt smile and gets up out of the chair. She makes her way over to me and places a hand on the side of my cheek.

“How you haven’t been snatched up by a lucky woman is beyond me.” I shake my head as she pats my cheek like a loving grandmother. She doesn’t know what I went through before moving here. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” A sense of pride creeps into my chest as Sarah takes her leave and heads toward the door. “If you’re looking for ideas for where to get treats, there’s this great bakery that just opened downtown. Val’s Sweet Treats. Apparently, she has the best cookies in town.” I make sure to write down the name and watch Sarah head into the hall.

I guess I have a bakery to check out.

CHAPTER FOUR

Everyone always assumes that because I own my own bakery, I know how to cook every baked good known to man. Not true. They also presume that baking comes naturally since I do it every day, also not true. I hate making buttercream icing because it’s so ingredient-sensitive, and one mistake can ruin a whole batch. Making butter tarts is by far my least favorite since I hate eating them, so baking them is an unusual kind of torture. Croissants have always been my Everest. At one point, I thought I would have to bite the bullet and go to France to train with a French chef in order to get them right, but I eventually found a food blog that saved my life—and my wallet. But cookies? They are by far the easiest and most enjoyable to create.

“These always make my morning that much sweeter!” Mrs. Walters says as I hand her a bag full of her usual oatmeal raisin cookies, along with a half-dozen blueberry muffins for her friends at the seniors’ home.

“That’s my goal!” I say with a smile as she heads toward the front door.

“You have a great day, dear!” she says just as the door closes behind her. I look around and realize that, for the first time all morning, the shop is empty. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, relishing the silence. I don’t get these moments as often as I would like, but seeing the smiles on customers like Mrs. Walters makes it all worth it.

I take advantage of the lull to go and put another batch of muffins into the oven, but just as I pick up the baking sheet, I hear the bell above the front door, and the heavy footfalls that follow.

“Hello?” a male voice calls from the front. A shiver washes over me as the deep vibrato echoes through the empty room. I wonder for a second what a man with that voice must look like, and it only takes a second for me to find out. “Is anyone here?” he calls again as I round the corner and I stop dead. My gaze tracks him from head to toe and…my God, the man is gorgeous. He looks like a sexy college professor, and I’m into it—far too into it for comfort. His black-framed glasses highlight his gorgeous brown eyes that almost look black in the fluorescent light. His hair matches his eyes, curling slightly on the top of his head and falling gently over his forehead, touching the top of his glasses. His lips part as our eyes meet, and I can’t help but stare at his tongue as it darts out and swipes over them. I’ve never had this visceral a reaction to a man before, not this quickly anyway, and definitely never this intensely. His physique is strong and lean, his white, button-down shirt accentuating his arms in a way that makes me want to trace the muscles with the tips of my fingers.

“Wow…” he murmurs, his eyes doing the exact same thing to me as I was doing to him just moments ago, but instead of the revulsion I expected, heat creeps over my cheeks as I duck my head, averting my eyes.

“Hi,” I start, trying my hardest to act as normal as possible, even though I’m anything but right now. “How can I help you?” I try my best to keep my voice even, not wanting him to realize what he’s done to me.

He coughs, shaking his head before he speaks. “Sorry, I was hoping to speak to the owner.”

“Is there a problem?” I say, trying to act as professional as I should be in a moment like this.

“Not at all,” he says, smiling. My knees actually weaken at the sight. This man needs to leave soon before I do something really embarrassing…like beg for sex. “I just have a quick question.”

“Well, ask away.” His head tilts, and his eyes widen when he realizes who he’s talking to.

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