Page 13 of XOXO, Valentina

He took my uninjured arm and steered me toward the park exit. “It’s no trouble.”

I knew he didn’t mean to flirt, but his sexy accent made my blood heat. It was obvious why they called him Joey. While he didn’t much resemble theFriendscharacter, they shared a similar vibe. They had the same serene confidence, nothing ruffled them, and flirting was second nature.

We crossed the pond over an arched footpath and came to the park exit. Even on a chilly morning, Ginger Cake Acres was busy. Dogs chased balls across the rolling lawn, kids whizzed by on bikes, and couples strolled along, holding hands.

Jealousy coiled in my belly as I watched the couples walk by. The last time I’d walked through the park holding hands with a man had been a lifetime ago.

Mr. Morales was just being nice to me. He was friendly and naturally outgoing. He didn’t mean anything by offering to help. Sometimes my imagination got the best of me, and I had to remind myself this was real life, not an erotic romance novel where every scenario ended with a thorough ravaging.

Maybe it was time I branched out from lumberjacks and reverse harems. My love of erotica had gone to my brain. I loved reading erotica because the plots were so outlandish. The story lines were nothing like real life, which was stressful but often boring. Maybe reading so much erotica had warped my brain.

Reading was my escape. After Montel had died, reading had been my way to cope with raising a young boy on my own. More recently, reading had led me to a group of great friends with the Blue Ridge Book Club.

For the first time in my life, reading seemed dangerous. My books had planted seeds which could never bloom—deliciously naughty seeds involving Mr. Morales lifting me onto his kitchen counter and stepping between my thighs to bandage my scraped knee. He would kiss my wounds better, his mouth chasing away the pain. In the guise of checking for injuries, he would stroke my thighs, caress my hips—

“Careful,” Mr. Morales said, steering me away from a low tree branch growing into the sidewalk. “The trees are out to get you today.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, telling myself to get a grip and pay attention. Maybe I should select an autobiography for my next book. I’d heard Gandhi’s was excellent, and probably tame compared to the spicy stories I usually devoured.

We stopped in front of a white brick Colonial steeped in Southern charm. A North Carolina flag flapped from the upper porch, and the front and center door was painted royal blue to match the shutters.

Joey fished a lanyard with a key from the neck of his sweatshirt. “Here we are.”

“This place is beautiful.”

“I’m very lucky to live here,” he said. “The neighbors are great, and there’s a hot tub on the back patio.”

The front door swung open, and a woman carrying a yoga mat walked out. One of the great neighbors? She was tall and curvaceous, with a headful of bouncy, red curls. Her face lit up when she saw Mr. Morales.

“Hi, Joey! How was your run?”

“Cold.” He turned toward me. “Kaitlyn, this is my friend Gabriella.”

Butterflies took flight in my stomach at the sound of Mr. Morales rolling his tongue over therin my name.Gabriella.It sounded so sexy when he said it. I’d never been called by my full name before. Everyone, including my mother, called me Gabi. Mr. Morales made me want to be Gabriella. Gabriella would let her hair down, dance under the moon, and make love on the kitchen table any day of the week. Gabriella was a lot like Valentina, my secret identity, who loved erotic stories and was sexually adventurous.

“Nice to meet you.” Kaitlyn’s eyes drifted to my torn sleeve. “What happened to you?”

“A tree root tried to attack her,” Mr. Morales said.

Her perky nose wrinkled. “Ouch.”

I pressed my knees together. “It’s not too bad.”

“You’re lucky I’m certified in first aid,” Joey said.

“Are we still on for Thursday night?” Kaitlyn asked Mr. Morales.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said.

“Perfect,” she chirped. She continued down the stairs, then stopped suddenly. “Hey, did I leave my bikini top at your place the other night?” she asked. “I can’t find it anywhere.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you left it down by the hot tub.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ll look for it,” he said.

Kaitlyn waved goodbye and hurried down the stairs.

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