Falling for Valentine
1. Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Valentine jumped in her seat as another round of hammering sounded a few doors down. It was so loud, it might as well have been in the condo directly next to hers.
The crew refurbishing some of the currently empty condos had been working round the clock the last couple months. And to be fair, they’d tried to be mindful of everyone who lived there.
But the company’s owner had personally promised Valentine that he wouldn’t have his guys do anything loud on Monday or Tuesday, because she had to work from home. Yet here they were, so loud even her headset wasn’t blocking out everything.
As quiet once again descended in her living room, she took a deep breath and focused on the program she had pulled up. Okay, peace again. She could do this. She was using Logic to edit a short musical score and—
Bang, bang, bang!
Her heart rate kicked up again at the blast of noise, and this time it didn’t let up. Shoving her chair back, she grabbed her sweater as an afterthought and tossed it on as she stalked out her front door—but not before slipping on flip-flops. January in New Orleans was still cold by her standards, and she shivered against the icy wind that struck her the moment she stepped out onto the front walkway.
The condo complex was in a square shape, with all the units overlooking a courtyard lush with bright foliage year-round, a three-tiered fountain, and a recently installed pool for all the residents to use.
Her flip-flops slapped against the concrete. She really should have put on real shoes, but it was too late now as she approached condo 204. There was no door in place anymore, and another round of bangs trailed out from the open space as she approached.
A man she recognized as Isaac gave her a nod as he stepped out of the condo. Then his eyes widened slightly as he seemed to take in her expression. He turned and shouted over his shoulder. “Boss, got a visitor!”
Moments later, Arthur Lockhart, aka Bear, stepped out onto the open walkway that overlooked the courtyard, his huge form sucking up all the space around him. With dark hair, dark blue eyes, and muscles and tattoos for days, he tended to stand out anywhere. “Valentine,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble she felt all the way to her soul.
Exaggerating much? No, she wasn’t, because something about this giant beast of a man got her so ridiculously hot. And she absolutely hated it. Hated. It.
With the passion of a thousand fiery suns.
He wasn’t remotely her type: big in a beefy sort of way, came from old money, and…he was too handsome. The kind of good-looking that meant he’d never had to work for it with women. And worst of all, he was here all the time, making so much noise she’d been thinking about moving. Which was stupid considering how low the rent was in such an incredible area. And yes, she knew that he was simply doing his job, and… Oh my god, he was watching her with those dark blue eyes she wanted to capture on canvas and immortalize for future generations, waiting for her to respond.
See? This was what happened around him. She forgot to think. Clearing her throat, she reached for calm and gritted out, “You said it would be quiet Monday and Tuesday so I could work without a bunch of racket, but all I’ve heard all morning is noise, noise, noise. And I’m trying to be understanding, but I’ve had no sleep and—”
“It’s Wednesday,” he murmured.
She blinked as she digested his words. “What?”
“It’s Wednesday.” And he looked almost guilty as he said the words. As if he didn’t want to tell her that she was wrong and making a fool of herself.
She blinked again and didn’t bother pulling out her phone to check because she was sure he was right. She’d basically been mainlining hot tea and running on far too little sleep the last couple weeks as she tried to finish the final musical score for the play the community center was putting on in a few weeks. “I…am…sorry,” she managed to get out, drowning in sudden embarrassment.
She leaned into the cliché as she wished for the ground to swallow her up. Or maybe she wished for the power of invisibility right about now. She managed to mumble what she hoped were actual words as she backtracked to her condo, her face no doubt the color of lobster.
Heat infused her cheeks and set up camp even as she shut her front door behind her and slumped against it. She held her palms to her cheeks and winced at herself. “It’s Wednesday, dumbass,” she muttered to herself. “Wednesday.”
Still wallowing in embarrassment, she decided it was time to get out of her place and head to one of her favorite haunts. It might not be quiet at the nearby coffee shop, but her headphones could block out the normal city noise at least. And they had the best lemon poppyseed muffins.
She was pretty sure that if she ate her weight in them, it would help her forget the awkwardness that was her life.
A soft knock on her door made her jump and she stepped away from it as if whoever was on the other side could actually see her. She was pretty sure she knew exactly who it was, and she simply couldn’t face him right now.
Nope. Not happening.
She quietly hurried to her bedroom to hide, and when she was confident it had been a long enough time, she packed up her laptop, put on shoes, sunglasses, and slipped out her door.
Thankfully none of the construction crew was out as she practically ran down the walkway in the other direction. Once she was down the stairs and out past the locked gate, she dragged in a full breath.
Not that it helped, because she kept replaying Bear’s sexy voice in her head. Two simple words. It’s Wednesday .
A man didn’t have a right to look that good. No one did, but not a guy like him; one who came from family money, had probably had the whole world handed to him on a platter. He wouldn’t know what it was like to struggle, to strike out on your own with no safety net.
Forcing thoughts of him out of her head, she made her way along the cobblestone street to the small bakery that had somehow been in business for the last fifty years in an ever-changing neighborhood. The oak trees provided shade year-round, and in the last five years people had taken to biking everywhere in this particular neighborhood. The street was awash with colorful bicycles, most with baskets on them, people walking their dogs, or out jogging.
Four hours later, after drinking at least two pots of tea and eating way too many muffins, she didn’t hate the edited score. Still needed some work, but she didn’t hate it.
And that was something. So she packed up and headed home, hoping the construction crew and Bear would be gone. It was almost five, so they should have wrapped up.
Wishing she’d thought to wear a scarf as another icy wind rolled down the street, she stopped in front of the locked gate of her small complex. She’d started to put the new code in the panel when someone shoved her hard from behind.
Crying out, she stumbled forward into the wrought iron gate, clasping onto the bars for support as she felt a yank on her big bag. It fell off her shoulder, but she curled up her arm instinctively to stop the thief from trying to steal it.
That was when she saw the blade glinting under the bright streetlamps. She let go, stumbling back once again into the gate. She held up her palms as the man tucked her bag—with her computer!—under his arm and turned to flee.
Before he’d taken four running steps, Bear appeared out of the shadows like his giant namesake. “Drop the bag,” he growled as he moved into the man’s path.
When the guy darted between two parked cars and onto the street, Bear moved faster than should have been possible for someone so big.
He jumped in front of him on the cobblestones. “Drop it and leave, and no one gets hurt.”
“Let it go! He has a knife,” she called out, not wanting him to get hurt. There was nothing in there worth being injured over.
Neither of them appeared to have heard her as they rushed at each other.
Shit! She looked around for help but the street was quiet, and her phone was in her bag so she couldn’t even call 911.
Before she could contemplate running into the gated complex to find help, there was a sickening crunch as Bear broke the guy’s nose. But the guy recovered and took off down the street at a full sprint.
She scanned Bear, her heart in her throat as she looked for any injuries.
Relief hit her hard when he stepped up onto the sidewalk, her bag in hand, looking unscathed. “Are you okay?” She raced toward him, her heart in her throat.
“I’m fine.” He winced slightly and stretched out his arm to hand over her bag.
That was when she saw it. Blood ran in a rivulet down his forearm, dripping onto the concrete. He had been hurt.