Page 3 of His Runaway Valentine

My eyes shift to her lips, and I find myself wondering how they taste.

I want her.

I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want this beautiful stranger standing right in front of me. None of these feelings make sense to me, which is a tad frightening for a rational man such as myself, but there is no denying their existence.

“Uhm, hi, did you need something?” Her smile dims a little but doesn’t completely disappear. Christ, her voice is sultry, seductively so, which has my cock filling up in my pants. There is no hiding the bulge, and I don’t bother trying to.

I know I must look like a creep, standing in the middle of the coffee shop, watching her with a boner in my pants, but I can’t seem to make my feet or lips work.

Who is she, and why the hell have I not seen her before this moment?

“Rowan!” The raspy voice of my sister breaks through my thoughts, and my head snaps in the direction of the woman whose single goal seems to be to make my life a living hell. “What are you doing here?”

And just like that, my lust-ridden brain snaps to the present. I remember why I’m here in the first place when my eyes land on the picture hung on the wall of what I suppose is meant to be a bloodied cupid.

I look around the coffee shop, my heart hammering in horror with every hideous decoration I come across. Finally, my eyes find my sister’s, only to be met with a smirk.

I glare at her before walking in the direction of her office, knowing she’ll follow.

“Nora, what the hell was all that?” I hiss once I hear the soft sound of the door closing.

“Hello to you too, brother. How long has it been since I last saw you? Three, four weeks?”

“You could have called; it would have been easier than pulling whatever it is you are trying to pull here, not to mention more appropriate.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” she beams, staring up at me expectantly. “Besides, I didn’t do this for you.”

I study her closely as I try to make sense of what she is saying. Was I wrong to assume she did this just to get my attention? The last time she pulled something similar to this was a couple of months ago when she called to tell me she’d found a way of saving money by getting coffee beans from a friend she’dmet on Facebook. I had taken that for the threat that it was meant to be and took her to dinner that same night.

“I want you to take down all those hideous decorations and get rid of this idea. Valentine’s Day is one of our most profitable days, and I can’t have whatever snit you’re in getting in the way of that. The investors…”

“The investors will believe whatever you tell them.” My eyes narrow on her when she stalks towards me and slips her arm through mine. “C’mon Rowan, I know you don’t like to bend rules but don’t be a stick in the mud. Every store in town will have Valentine’s decorations. We need to be different.”

I glare at her, slipping out of her grip and walking to the window that looks into the shop. I grip the blinds and push them down, my eyes trailing the place, but I don’t seeher.

The angel from earlier.

Did I imagine her?

I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d only been a figment of my imagination. It’s not even lunch time yet, and I have already been up and working for over six hours.

“I have let you do whatever you want with this place, but this is where I draw the line.”

“What do you care?” she hisses behind me, her voice laced with anger. “It’s one stupid day. I’ve never pictured you for a romantic, what with your cold, dead heart.”

If the words are meant to hurt, they don’t. It’s not the first time I’ve been called heartless, a clear contrast to the hopeless romantic that is my sister. The words don’t affect me, they never have. It’s hard to fight the truth, and I don’t bother to hide it either.

I turn to find Nora glaring at me, but there is no changing my decision. She is used to me turning a blind eye to her little projects, but this is the one thing I am unwilling to cave on.

“Have all the decorations removed by tomorrow, or I’ll find someone to do it for you,” I say, watching her eyes flash in anger at my words.

“Rowan!”

“We are done discussing this, Nora.”

CHAPTER TWO

Willow

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