Page 26 of XOXO, Valentina

My heart picked up the pace, and I felt like I was running the last lap of a race. “We’re locked in this supply closet together,” I said. “I’m pretty sure that’s inappropriate.”

Her fingers spread against my dress shirt, exploring. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

I grinned, thinking how fun it was going to be to do all sorts of wrong things with Gabriella Salinger. “Not yet. But I want to do wrong things with you.” I slid my fingers around her neck, seeking the top button of her blouse. “I’m dying to undo all these buttons.”

She shifted closer, and my fingers worked open her button. The sound of our quick breath was the only noise in the room. The darkness cloaked us, and there was something erotic about touching her without seeing her clearly. It made every little noise ricochet off the walls, every breath echo in the silence.

Her other hand came to the front of my shirt and inched up to my shoulders. She pressed lightly, her fingers testing the flex of my muscles under the crisp cotton of my shirt.

I slid my thumb along the open collar of her blouse and bent my head toward her throat.

Her fingers dug into my shoulders before I could lower my mouth to her skin. “Stop.”

Disappointment flooded my system. It wasn’t the word I wanted to hear, but I stopped. Lifting my head, I wished I could see her face.

Gabriella pulled back a few inches, putting space between us. “Not here.”

Hope sparked in my chest, reigniting the flame she’d just doused. “Where?”

She shifted away with a sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Let me take you to dinner this weekend.”

She stiffened.

I backtracked. “Lunch?”

“Breakfast,” she said. “On Sunday.”

“My place, so no one will see us.” I pulled her closer and pressed my lips to her cheek. “Nine o’clock?”

She lingered in my arms for a moment before moving away. “Fine.” Her footsteps sounded on the floor, the door creaked open, and she was gone.

I stood in the darkness for a few minutes with a goofy grin and an uncomfortable erection, wondering how I’d gotten so hung up on a woman who not only had to have a head start, but the last word as well.

13

Chapter 11

Gabi

Mossy Oak was a haven for outdoor enthusiasts. Although we had four distinct seasons throughout the year, they were all relatively mild and perfectly suited for outdoor activities.

Our town was full of hikers, runners, kayakers, and climbers. So I wasn’t surprised to see people enjoying a stroll or a bike ride around Ginger Cake Acres, even though it was early on a Sunday morning.

I passed a young mother pushing a Baby Jogger, and I remembered the days of running behind Shane’s stroller when he was a baby. Pushing a forty-pound stroller with a twenty-pound child inside wasn’t easy. I remembered struggling to get up the hills and then flying to keep up on the downhills. Running had been my therapy, my escape from reality back when I’d been so lost without Montel, but lately I had been using the quiet time during my runs to clear my mind and work through my problems.

As my feet pounded the trail, my mind circled back to the problem of Joey. Agreeing to meet him for breakfast had been impulsive, but necessary. I couldn’t go on ignoring Joey at school and pretending he didn’t exist.

He’d gotten under my skin. He was an itch I needed to scratch.

But I was as nervous as a kindergartner on the first day of school. I’d slept poorly, awakened early, and laced on my running shoes. There was nothing better than a long run to sort my feelings. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, doubt filled my mind. I ran fast and hard, but couldn’t outpace my nerves.

Since Montel had died, I hadn’t had a boyfriend. I’d had a few secret lovers, a couple of one-night stands, and the occasional friend with benefits, but I’d never brought a man around Shane. I didn’t want him exposed to my dating life, so it was easier not to date.

I slowed my pace as I came upon two runners heading up to the pavilion water fountain, the scene of my humiliating fall. A man and a woman laughed and chatted as they ran at a fast clip, which would have most people gasping.

My attention gravitated toward the male runner, who had an easy, long-legged stride, and my heart raced. Joey Morales was easy to recognize. Even though the temperature was heating up, he was dressed for the tundra. His stupid cap covered his head, and he wore long sleeves and gray sweatpants. I was perfectly comfortable wearing a T-shirt and shorts, although my chest ached to see him laugh with another woman.

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