Page 4 of Sweet Valentine

“You’re the owner?” He sounds surprised, and I can feel my protective anger starting to rise by the second.

“Yes, is there a problem with that?” I cringe at the attitude I hear in my voice. I know he likely meant nothing by the comment, but I can’t help the barbed wire that surfaces whenever someone questions my success.

“Not at all. Actually, I was surprised because I’ve never seen a woman like you running a bakery before.”

“A woman like me?” I question, wondering where he’s going with this.

“Young and way too beautiful to be stuck inside all day.” I can’t help the blush that creeps up my cheeks, but I do everything I can to avoid his piercing gaze.

“What can I do for you?” I ask again, trying to move the attention away from me as fast as possible.

“Well, I’m in need of seventy cookies by next week.” My mouth hangs open because…holy. Shit. That is a lot of cookies to create in just a few days.

“What are they for?” I ask, hoping they’re simple and I can make them quickly.

“They’re for my class. I teach second grade, and I accidentally forgot that Valentine’s Day is next week. I have a special day planned for the class, and wanted to bring treats.” My eyes soften as he explains the plan for the old folks’ home and his kids writing the residents letters. Jesus, it’s like this guy dropped straight from Heaven and into my lap.

“Well, what were you thinking the cookies should look like?” I ask, laughing when a confused look crosses his face.

“Umm, I didn’t know they came in different shapes. I just expected regular chocolate chip cookies, to be honest.” I shake my head, motioning to the display case where I have my heart-shaped cookies on display. I made them this morning, knowing that the day of love was just a week away. People adore novelty stuff like this around cheesy holidays.

“These are my regular Valentine’s Day cookies. Are they okay?” I pray he chooses these because I can whip up dozens in a heartbeat, so getting him seventy will be a walk in the park.

“Those look fantastic. Honestly, I would have been happy with just plain cookies. This is going above and beyond.”

“Good. If you’ll just follow me, I’ll get you the form to sign, and I’ll make sure the cookies are ready for next week.” He follows me over to the cash register, and I hand him the form. He fills it out, and as he hands it back to me, the tips of his fingers brush the side of my hand, making my breath catch. This is not good. Obviously, I need to get laid—and fast—because apparently, I can’t be around attractive men without my body going into overdrive.

I read over his form, making sure all the information is there. “Well…”—I look at the paper for his name and see it written in unnaturally neat writing—“Noah, I look forward to making these for your class.” I turn to put the form into my projects tray when his hand stops me.

“What’s your name?” I look down at the hand that’s currently wrapped around my wrist, his heat burning a hole through my skin.

“Valentina, but everyone calls me Val.” My voice sounds oddly raspy, and I curse my libido for not playing it cool.

“Well, Valentina,”—Jesus, my name sounds even better coming off his lips—“how would you like to have coffee with me?” Is he actually asking me out? I meet his eyes, and they bore into mine with such intensity that I recoil, and my hand is released from his grasp.

I like this guy, and the idea of going on a date with him intrigues me more than I thought possible. But then there’s the dark cloud that hangs over me, the memory of what my career does to guys like Noah. He deserves someone who can devote her time and energy to a relationship. Not a girl obsessed with her job.

“No, thanks,” I say as I turn and put the paper where it belongs. “I don’t really have time to date right now,” I lie, hoping he doesn’t see right through me. Our eyes meet once more, and I see a small smile play on the edge of his lips. He doesn’t seem disappointed in the least. In fact, he looks determined.

“That’s okay, Valentina, I’ll see you around.” I watch as he leaves—not minding the view—and wonder if I just met my match.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Sweetheart, just like that…” I moan as my eyes travel down my torso.

Before I can meet her eyes, my cock is sucked into her luscious mouth, hitting the back of her throat, making my eyes roll back in my head. Jesus, what is this girl doing to me? Her nails dig into my stomach as her blond head bobs up and down. I love the feel of her tongue swirling around my length. I look down and see those beautiful grey eyes, and all of a sudden, I can feel the tingling traveling up my spine, and I know I’m seconds away from release…

“Valentina…”

BEEP BEEP BEEP

I reach over and turn off my alarm, looking down the length of my bed, hoping to see that blond head, but there’s nothing there. “Fuck…” I mutter into the empty room. I’ve had this dream for years, especially since I don’t have the time for an actual relationship. But this is the first time it’s been about a specific woman. I would recognize that blond hair and those grey eyes anywhere, and I need to take a deep breath to get my cock to calm down.

I look over at my phone and see that I have a couple of hours before I need to be at school, so I head into the bathroom to get ready. I start the shower and turn the water to cold because I can’t seem to get the idea of Valentina’s lips around my cock out of my head.

Driving up to the bakery, I park right out front since it’s still early. I notice that there’s already a line of people out the door, and I can’t help the smile that forms. Sarah must have been right—this is the place to be in the morning. I head to the back of the line and just watch Valentina. I don’t know what I’m going to say when I see her, but I do know that watching her work is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Her blond hair is up in a messy bun, she has a bright purple apron tied around her tiny waist, and the skin-tight jeans she wears give me whiplash every time she turns around. The closer I get to the front, the more details I can see. Like the smudge of flour behind her ear, the food dye under her fingernails, and the scent of cinnamon that seems to follow her everywhere she goes. I’m mesmerized by how she handles the morning rush, so much so that I don’t even realize I’ve made it to the front of the line.

“Noah?” Val whispers as she hands a customer a cup of coffee and a scone. “What are you doing here?” The sound of her voice sends me back to the dream from earlier, and I have to take several deep breaths before I can answer.

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