Accidentally Aphrodite - Dakota Cassidy Page 0,31
her mind, that’s like death!”
“But you set her straight. You gave her a good talking to about the importance of all that inner-beauty stuff and how someone should love your bones, not your shell—”
“For which she reminded me of what a hypocrite I am when my shell probably cost a few grand at the plastic surgeons, if you’ll recall,” Quinn said, pointing to her chest.
“Oh, what does she know? You’ll make a good mother someday, Quinn. That speech you gave her was, bar none, one of the best I’ve ever heard about healthy body images. Ya done good.”
She let her head hang in utter shame. “They looked so perfect together, Ingrid. So right. And that feeling—I can’t explain it, but it was so…urgent. Like if I didn’t get my ass in gear, the world was going to fall down around my ears.”
Ingrid nodded her head, the spikes of her multicolored Mohawk bouncing. “A romantic notion from a diehard romantic, if I ever heard one. So see? Your romance bone isn’t broken after all.”
“After what just happened, I wouldn’t rule out an amputation.”
“This from the woman who started the Romeo and Juliet Club on campus.”
“And we now have two proud members.” She held up her frozen fingers for emphasis.
“After a year of its existence,” Ingrid reminded.
“Some things take longer than others to grow.” Okay, so her Romeo and Juliet Club hadn’t been a huge success. It was just another reason why this Aphrodite job wasn’t her bag. She wouldn’t know romance from her elbow.
Khristos rubbed his jaw and loomed over her. She’d watched him attempt to gather his patience while he’d paced back and forth in front of them for the last half an hour.
But his attempt to soothe her was valiant. “Your aim is off just yet. You’ll get better, but you have to listen and wait for me before you act. You absolutely can’t be impulsive about this, Quinn.”
She rose, putting her hand on his arm, instantly reacting to the strong muscles of his forearm beneath his down jacket. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. But kudos. You were amazing out there.”
Ingrid bobbed her head and patted Khristos on the back. “Not a lie, dude. You were like Tyrell Owens. That zigzag move you made to catch an invisible arrow none of us could see but you—ah-maze-balls.”
Nina snorted. “Too bad you didn’t use that shite at the last football game, eh, buddy?”
Khristos’s NFL moves reminded Quinn of something pretty important. “You know what’s been troubling me?”
“Your impulsive asshattery?” Nina crowed.
Yet, that was a fair assessment of her behavior and she wouldn’t deny it. “Not just that. How did you see an arrow? I didn’t see an arrow. What happens if I can’t ever see the arrow? And how did Cupid know where to shoot the arrow? It’s not like I gave him a signal. I don’t even know who he is. So how could he have known?”
The man who’d been sitting on a large rock across from them, his face buried deep inside his jacket, a paper bag with what she suspected was booze sticking out of his pocket, rose and approached them, his round body propelling him forward.
Maybe he was one of the bad guys Nina had assured her existed?
She hopped behind Khristos, but he pried her fingers off his arm and squeezed them, shooting that warm zing along her hand. “It’s okay, Quinn. He’s a friend.”
“Sorry, Boss,” the man said. “I got all caught up in her excitement and I lost my damn shit.”
Khristos chuckled and slapped the round man on the back. “No worries. It’s all handled now. So, introductions are in order. Cupid, meet Quinn, your new boss.”
He held out a doughy hand in her direction. “Nice to meet you. Usually, I’m a better team player. Next time I’ll chill before I spill. Promise to do a better job of having your back.”
This was Cupid? This gruff, unshaven man with a distinct New York accent was Cupid?
His eyes, sparkling blue and amused, set in a pleasingly round face, twinkled as he grabbed her hand and pumped it with a wide grin. “You’re wondering where my diaper is, right? Fuck if I can get rid of those damn pictures. Google Images has not been my friend. Hallmark cards either. I don’t know whose stupid-ass idea it was to cover my junk up with a diaper, but there you have it. Branded for life. Anyway, I hear we’ll be working together from now on. Nice to meet you