I glanced over at—fuck. She’d given me two names, Valentina and Toni. I liked Valentina better, and son of a bitch, if I didn’t get a kick out of her. She was animated, quick-witted, and a kick in the ass to tease. Not nearly as aloof as the vibe she gave off. Something about the proper vocabulary she used when she got shaken up though struck me as a defense mechanism. She’d be cool to talk to, if I could get her to calm the hell down around me.

While she packed up her gear, I strolled over to her bench chalking my hands. “Hey.”

She leapt and almost lost her balance, coming down on the bad knee. With a grimace, she immediately took two hops away from me.

Damn. Did I make her that nervous? The woman was giving me a complex. I sat on the bench she’d just vacated, dusting chalk on my palms.

“Hi. Sorry. You—I didn’t hear you behind me,” she blurted out. I pointed at her earbuds, which she yanked out of her ears, blushing furiously.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

When she looked up and saw me on her bench, her shoulders relaxed a little.

“Got a question.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked her head. “Okay. Hopefully I have an answer for you.”

Damn, she was adorable standing there, trembling hands locked under her arms.

“When I asked your name, you gave me two. Valentina and Toni. Which is it?”

She took a quick breath before a smile spread across her face, drawing my attention to her ridiculously kissable lips. How the fuck had I missed that? A light rose color, with a naturally swollen look to them. They were fuller than most and perfectly shaped.

“It’s Toni,” she said, with a quick lift of her brows, remembering she’d given me both.

“Toni’s your first name?”

She snickered. “No. It’s a nickname turned first name. My middle name is Antoinette. Most people call me Toni, only family and close friends call me Valentina, which to answer your question, is my first name. Valentina Antoinette Durare. See? It’s long.” Kneeling, she reached for the strap of her bag and slid it over in front of her instead of taking the step closer to me.

Curious . . . The woman was a hot mess of nerves.

I kept my eyes on my hands and chalked the opposite side. “Valentina’s beautiful. It fits you.” Valentina was the name she’d given me on instinct when she hurt her knee. If Toni was the name she preferred, she’d have given me that.

Dropping her good knee to the floor, she unzipped and rearranged her bag twice before peeking up at me. “Thank you. That’s very kind to say.”

When I stood up and so did she, I didn’t miss the step back.

I do make her nervous. Shit.

I purposely didn’t invade her space. “Valentina fits you better. I’ll go with that.” When I grinned down at her, those beautiful lips parted and her eyes widened.

“I go by Toni.”

“Not to me.” I smiled at her, but I was serious. I wasn’t calling her Toni.

She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You—you’re—you’re ballsy. You know that, right? What part of ‘only a select few people call me by my given name’ did you miss? To be clear, you’re not on the list.” The more irritated she became, the less distance she put between us. With every sentence, she inched closer to me. My spitfire was back and I had to admit, I found her spunk and stubborn streak kind of hot—nobody would walk over this woman.

‘My’? Crush that word, dude. No ‘my.’ Get your fuckin’ head straight—the right head.

“I should be at the top of that list. You’d have been crushed, if it weren’t for me,” I countered.

“Oh. My. God.” Now she laughed with me, and what a sweet sound. “I’ve already properly thanked you.”

I moved a step closer to her. As if realizing how close we were, she moved one step back. Her ass hit the dumbbell rack, stopping her retreat. “Your first name’s classic. It’s too beautiful not to be said out loud.” Yep. Might have just lost my man card with that sappy-ass shit, but fuck it. It was true. I liked the sound of her name. Fuckin’ sue me. “Who were you named after?”

A deep shade of pink darkened her cheeks, making her even more tempting.

Christ! Like you haven’t recently gotten laid? Man the fuck up.

I had to stop teasing this chick, because I could see her being a potential problem for me. The nervous energy she gave off was a little addicting. She thought too much about what she said, but then when she got heated, she just spewed shit out. She responded to me on instinct, which I dug. But I intimidated her on some level and I didn’t like that at all.

“My birthday is on Valentine’s Day.” She leaned against the weights and chuckled before looking at me. “You said your mom’s original? Mine’s a twisted ancient civilizations professor.”

“I would have gone with hopeless romantic.”

A genuine belly laugh that wasn’t a nervous reflex or response filled the space between us. It was a vivacious sound, and a fucking turn-on. I couldn’t stand women who faked laughter. What was the point? Life was too short for anything but real.

“Hardly.” She brought my attention back to her. “You know the origin of Valentine’s Day? The story behind it?”

“Not familiar with it.” As long as she kept smiling up at me, I didn’t give a shit what came out of her mouth. Jesus, that smile killed me.

She nodded and heaved her bag over her shoulder. “Long story short, naked Romans celebrated a feast that basically involved sacrificing goats and whipping women. Not a bad thing for the ladies, because they believed it made them fertile, so they actually lined up for it—”

“Don’t take this wrong, but I kind of love your mom.”

She dropped her shoulders and glared up at me. “Don’t be shallow. Not like that.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Sorry, go on.”

“Third century, an emperor executes a few men. They become martyrs for the Catholic Church and are honored with St. Valentine’s Day on the fourteenth. Fast forward to the fifth century—a pope merges the pagan Roman ritual with honoring the martyrs of St. Valentine’s Day, and we get a watered-down version of the festive celebration originating with the Romans. We can thank Chaucer and Shakespeare in the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries for turning what we now know as Valentine’s Day into a celebration of corny cards, chocolate, and goofy hearts. Mom loves Chaucer and the Romans, and therefore, named me Valentina. Thank God, I wasn’t born on Halloween.”

Longest fucking explanation ever, but worth every second just to hear her ramble on without the quivering edge to her voice. “Like I said, classic.” I pointed to the front of her pullover that read, Give me chocolate, or give me death. “Either Valentina or sugar—your call.”

She dropped her head to stare down at her chest, before looking back up to glare at me. “You’ve known me all of, what? A few weeks? And I can’t even justify the use of the word ‘known,’ because all we’ve done is exchange civilities and you just happened to save me one day. You don’t get to call me Valentina.”

“I’m not calling you Toni.” Grinning at her, I took a step back toward my machine.

She readjusted the strap on her bag as she scowled at me. “Then don’t expect me to answer.” Picking up her dumbbells, she put them back in the rack.

“You’ll answer,” I said.

As she swung around, her bag swished around her, hitting the opposite hip. The weight of her duffle bag threw her off balance, but she righted herself with a small huff. “You are an infuriating man.”

“You’ll get used to me.”

When her mouth gaped open this time, I reached out and chucked a finger under her chin before she had time to pull away. “Close your mouth, sugar.”

I turned back to my bench, but watched her through the mirrors on the weight room walls. She narrowed her eyes at me and swatted at her chin before shaking her head. She tried to hide her grin as she glanced down at her chalk-dusted fingers, but it was too late. I’d already caught her reaction. When her head flew up, meeting my eyes in the mirror, I nodded at her. “Have a good day.”

“You in no way deserve a reciprocating response, but you too.” She lifted her chin, gave an impressive little spin toward the weight room doors, and marched out without a look back. She was a spunky thing. Cute, hot, awkward, and beautiful all rolled up into one slammin’ package. And I knew firsthand what it felt like to have her pressed tight against me.

Couldn’t get a read on her age, though. My guess was late twenties, early thirties, but something about the tormented look that glazed her eyes at times made me think older. I was good at reading people. Always had been, but I couldn’t get a solid read on this woman, and that irritated the shit out of me.

Enough, fucker. Way too much thought happenin’ about one woman.

Right, I was indulging in the single life of the recently divorced. Was two years considered recent? Fuck it, I needed to be dating and banging everything hot on the same page as I was, when I had time and Valentina, while hot, didn’t qualify. That I inherently knew. Casual dating or friends with benefits was not her deal, which was all I was interested in.

I’d been on dates, but to be honest, I guess marrying young, I’d missed out on how that whole scene worked. Work being the key word. I had to mentally prepare for that shit. A lot of it was my fault. I was a work-a-holic and I stuck to a schedule that didn’t leave time for much dating. I had a couple ladies, friends, who were on the same page as I was, which basically meant we had dinner and fucked when we needed to with no attachments.

But that shit got old. Or I’d turned into a homebody. According to Chase, I wasn’t “applying” myself to the dating scene. New Year’s Resolution—date more. Fuuuck, even thinking about it made me tired. I was too young to be this old.

As far as the mysterious Ms. Valentina, she’d be cool to mess with in between sets and would make the time go by faster at the gym, but that was it. If I was able to get her to calm down around me. What the hell, I had to be here anyway and I had a feeling this livewire was going to prove a challenge.

Fuck it. Gym buddy with no benefits, but she was feisty, had a will of steel, a work ethic that rivaled any dude up in here, and I liked her . . . a little more than I should. I hadn’t started the day with much laughter over the past two years and she was funny as shit. Maybe I could get her to lighten up around me enough to get to know her a little better.