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Funny Valentine(4)

By:Sienna Mynx

or something. He’s also tight with my brother in-law. I give him the best smile I can.

Margie blinks at our florist and Chuckie glares as if betrayed.

Melvin clears his throat. “Say what?”

“Don’t be shy,” I say, going over to stand by him. He’s tall, handsome in

that homegrown kind of way. Could stand a manicure. His hands are always jacked.

But the clear, green beauty of his eyes would give any girl pause. Yep, Melvin will

Funny Valentine by Sienna Mynx

do for the sake of argument. ’Cause I have every intention of winning this one with


Melvin’s that out-doorsy kind of guy––blue collar and all. Not my type. I

like my men a little refined. Definitely. Last time I had a man he was uptight and

boring and the best part of the relationship was the ending. With my

accomplishments, I need to be equal to my partner. That’s why I’m so picky.

Melvin’s aftershave is fresh, though, and hell, he can play along. I shoulda

thought of this months ago. His green eyes focus on me. Standing this close with

the smell of roses coming off his skin, I notice how beautiful they are. Then a smirk

turns up the corner of his mouth as he reads my silent plea. A very secretive smirk.

“This true, Melvin? You seeing my sister?” Margie asked.

“Ah, yeah… we’ve been dating,” he says and runs a hand down my back to

rest at the base of my spine, just at the rise of my ass. What the hell? I move a little

and his hand drops, with a not-so-innocent brush that makes me tense. I cut my

eyes at him. He smirks. His two workers stop and look over at us, surprised.

Hell, it’s my lie, so I own it. Flashing my sister a thousand-watt triumphant

smile, I go for it. “There you have it. Got my man right here. So no need for the


Funny Valentine by Sienna Mynx

Chapter Two

Earlier that day

“Boss? Hey, I think we got a problem,” called Alejandro.

Yeah, yeah I can hear him. Doors to the back of my van are open and he

and my crew are working a sweat trying to get the bed of roses and new plotted

arrangements on the sidewalk. A good, tough lot of men, I trust them all. Everyone

on my staff has served time. Paying homage. It’s the way I prefer it. I did time for a

brief stint, so I know how hard it is to get right. Besides, no matter what the color,

every man deserves a chance to be his own man. The system has a way of stripping

that from you, by throwing you out on your ass with no options. I’m good with my

hands, always have been, thanks to moms. So when I got out, it made sense that I

take on her florist shop and make it something more. Too bad she died a year

later. Too bad she never saw the fruits of her labor. Pops died six months after her

from a broken heart. And my head still ain’t right over losing them both. So I did it

for them, for me, and for my little brother Nicky who got jacked in those streets I

introduced him to.


“Fuck, man, I hear you.”

I can’t deal with his whining now. I have more pressing things on my mind.

Like waiting for her to step out of the car. Didn’t know she’d be here this morning.

Normally it’s just Margie and Alicia. Never Tia.

Here I am with dirt under my nails and faded jeans. She pulls up in a

BMW two-seater ragtop that’s probably worth more than my house. And she’s the

prettiest woman on two legs I know. Just sweetness from head to toe. Damn.

The door opens.


“In a minute!”

Funny Valentine by Sienna Mynx

Alejandro groans and directs the other men to where they can unload the

flowers. Her foot drops down, legs and all the rest concealed by the car door. But

that foot, perfect in size and symmetry, it’s in a dark blue stiletto pump with an

open toe. Oh yeah, I’m a foot man. Hers is probably a size seven and the three-

inch heel gives it this sexy arch. So damn feminine. C’mon baby, show me those


She eases out of the car with sunglasses hiding those soft brown eyes of

hers. Dressed in a navy blue suit, her skirt rides high on those chocolate thighs and

hugs those sweet hips, which stirs something primal in me. The matching blazer is

short on the waist and snug, with a single button. It defines the nice curve of her

breasts––I’d cut off a testicle to know those breasts. She sees me. A small smile

brings up dimples in her cheeks. She puts her sunglasses in her hair and closes the

car door. Her eyes focus on me.

“Morning,” she says in that sweet, soft voice I want to hear speak when I’m

near her, in her, or just worshiping at her feet. Tia Jackson exemplifies all the things

I’ve longed for in a woman, but haven’t quite found. My crush is debilitating. I can