Finding Cupid Read online

  Skimming through chapter eleven of her Perfect Love Matches 101 textbook, Lula found little to help her comprehend Earth’s backward stance on nudity and sexuality in general. The joy of nakedness should be embraced and appreciated rather than be a source of fodder for juvenile snickering and titillation.

  Lula used the long suede shoulder strap of the pouch containing her traveling garment as well as the vials holding the forgetfulness and invisibility concoctions as a bookmark. She glanced up frequently from her reading to watch the changing skyscape. As Cinnamus’ team of magnificent obsidian-black stallions galloped through the air, their jeweled harnesses glinting in the sun’s light, Olympus soon became dwarfed in the distance, fueling Lula’s excitement. Before long, she’d be able to glimpse Earth.

  While studying the chapter, she diligently made notes. Her thoughts were happily interrupted when Cinnamus called out, “Look, Lula, the Earth is coming into view.” The chariot bumped and Lula bounced. “Looks like we may be encountering a bit of turbulence as we descend,” Cinnamus told her with a quick glance over his shoulder. “Make sure to secure yourself well.”

  “I will, Cinnamus.” Mashing her back against the curved sidewall, Lula threaded her arms through two of the leather loops and held tight. It was at precarious times like this she wished the chariots had backs and roofs. At least the newer models like Cinnamus’ came equipped with safety loops.

  She was determined to make Cinnamus proud of her—to repay his kindness for taking her down to Earth after she’d disappointed him yet again. Yes, on this trip Lula would restore his confidence in her by being a conscientious model student and following his and Cupid’s every instruction to the letter.

  Every arrow she shot would be perfectly aimed, striking its target at the exact point of intent. She would wear her invisibility garment so as not to stand out among Earth’s more modest inhabitants and she would remember to use her forgetfulness powder and the invisibility serum…or was it the other way around…as needed. She’d keep her textbook as well as her notebook with all the notes she’d jotted with her at all times so there’d be absolutely no fear of leaving them behind.

  And, as difficult as it may be, she would refrain from practicing her matchmaking skills on any humans, regardless of how lovelorn they may be, before she connected with Cupid and the other students at his Earthly headquarters.

  With those righteous, honorable oaths firmly in mind, Lula yelped when she felt the chariot dip. Both she and her possessions bounced about. Freeing one arm from a leather loop, she scrambled to secure all her scattered belongings. And then, to her abject horror, with the chariot’s next sizeable dip Lula watched her notebook, textbook and suede pouch spring up and out of the chariot’s confines, plummeting down through the air behind them.

  All this before she’d even had a chance to study chapter twelve detailing Earth vernacular!

  “Are you all right, Lula?”

  Gasping as she endeavored to swallow a lump in her throat that refused to dislodge, Lula felt the heat of a crimson blush blast her cheeks. By the gods, she hadn’t even reached Earth yet and already she was wreaking havoc. Jupiter only knew where her belongings would end up or who would find them—or what they would do with them!

  If Cinnamus found out what had happened, he’d be beyond disillusioned with her for failing to keep her materials safe. But it had all happened so quickly. One minute she was making silent pledges to improve and the next—

  “Lula?” Cinnamus called again with a quick glance in her direction as he tightened his grip on the reins and deftly directed his team of horses through the rough air pockets.

  Lula clutched the rest of her belongings to her breast, swallowing back a tortured sob. Her heart beating a rapid tattoo, she said, “Yes. Yes, Cinnamus, I’m fine.”

  Lula wasn’t sure how long after that the chariot touched ground. Cinnamus had initiated the veiling device before the chariot descended through the clouds to ensure their invisibility.

  “We’re in North America,” Cinnamus explained. “In the state of Oregon and the city of Portland, at the city center. You’ll see this waterfront park marked on your map. Cupid’s headquarters is within walking distance from here,” he gestured across the large park with an outstretched finger.

  “Make sure to return to this precise spot when it’s time for the academy’s chariot to bring you and the other students back home in three days. Today is Saturday. That means you must be back here on Tuesday morning. Understand?”

  “Three days. Tuesday. Yes, Cinnamus.” Lula felt so ashamed, so bungling, she could barely make eye contact with him. She could feel his gaze on her and for a moment, just for the merest whisper of time, she contemplated telling him about her lost belongings. But now wasn’t the time. No, first she’d redeem herself by being the star student on this trip, and then, when Cinnamus was thoroughly pleased and satisfied with her amazing progress, she’d alert him about the unintentional slight midair mishap.

  Once the academy dispatched a team of investigators to search out and retrieve the items, all would be well again. The thought brought a touch of a smile to her lips.

  The smile faded again when she thought about what might happen to her here on Earth, all alone and without her protective gear to keep her safe from harm until she found Cupid. Chapter eleven had outlined some of the nasty, frightening things that could occur to innocent, unsuspecting women at the hands of unscrupulous humans. Of course, she’d made notes about how to best protect herself should the need arise…but the notes were gone.

  “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, Lula,” Cinnamus said, a concerned look in his eyes. “And you look…a bit green. Did the chariot ride not sit well with you? I regret that it became rather bumpy toward the end and you were jostled.”

  “I’m fine. And your chariot driving was excellent.” Gently resting her hand on his forearm, Lula broke into a full smile. “My mind was just focused on what I’ll be doing here on Earth, that’s all.”

  The genuine smile Cinnamus gave her in return warmed her to her soul. “I haven’t told you this before because I didn’t want you to think I was trying to butter you up for a better grade,” she told him, “but you’re a fine, dedicated teacher, Cinnamus. And a truly good man. I’m so very lucky to have you in my life. Your support and belief in me has meant more than you can possibly imagine. It’s important that you remember that, Cinnamus…no matter what happens.”

  “Thank you.” Cinnamus tousled her curls and grinned. “That’s very nice to hear but you make it sound as though we’ll never see each other again.” He chuckled. “I’m quite sure you don’t have a thing to worry about, Lula. You’re a very good student and the only thing I can foresee happening because of this trip is that I’ll be getting a stellar report from Cupid detailing your excellent matchmaking tasks.”

  “Oh Cinnamus…from your lips to Jupiter’s ears,” Lula muttered.

  Chapter Two

  “Sir, I must insist that you unhand me at once,” Lula fumed as the repugnant stranger pawed at her. “As I’ve already explained, I have no intention of accompanying you to a dark alley or anywhere else to engage in sexual union.”

  “You got some mighty uppity talk for a street hooker,” the man said, his words oozing like thick oil as he leered at her semi-nude form and tightened his grip on her wrist. “Now quit your griping, Cinderella, and let’s go.”

  “I am not a hooker. And you’ve obviously mistaken me for this Cinderella person. I’ve already told you, my name is Lula and I’m on a mission to find Cupid.”

  He sneered at her, or perhaps he was attempting to grin. “Yeah, sure, we can play that game if you want. C’mon, let’s go find him.”

  “You mean you know where he is? You’ll take me to Cupid’s headquarters?” Even though she was elated at the prospect, it was all Lula could do to look at the seedy individual’s face for he seemed to be salivating as if she were a juicy slab of prime venison.

  “Yeah, that’s w
here I’m taking you. It’ll just be you and me and Cupid and all them little angel things flying around.”

  “Cherubs,” Lula offered helpfully.

  “Whatever.” He yanked her hard, pulling her as he walked through the park toward the street.

  “Ow, you’re hurting me.” Lula struggled to pull away but she wasn’t strong enough, so she tripped along, fighting to keep up with his long strides.

  He made a sharp turn, heading into a long, dark corridor between two buildings. The bleak area smelled of rotten food and urine. Lula couldn’t imagine Cupid selecting a fetid location such as this for his Earthly headquarters and that’s exactly what she suggested to the sordid man.

  He clearly didn’t appreciate her astute observation, because before Lula knew what was happening, he’d thrown her against the cold brick wall, pinning her there as he undid his trousers.

  “My dick is itching to fuck you good,” he breathed in her face. His breath smelled just as pungent as the alley. “And don’t try no funny business neither ’cause I got a knife in my pocket.” To prove his point, he stuffed his hand in his jacket pocket, jabbing a sharp object into Lula’s belly.

  She gasped. “You were lying! You never had any intention of taking me to Cupid,” she accused, irate at him as well as at her own naiveté. “That’s not right. I trusted you to keep your word and—”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, keep your trap shut, will ya? I don’t got all day. Keep still or I’ll have to really get rough with you.” Then he began to lift her garment.

  Good gods…she was about to be compromised!

  Lula felt herself flush cold with fear. She’d never been in such a precarious situation before, although she’d read about them. Most recently in chapter eleven of her textbook.

  “I must warn you that I’m fully prepared to take appropriate action,” Lula boasted through fear-spiked breaths as she pressed her thighs together. “I am well versed on self-defense tactics,” she went on, wishing she still had her book or notes available for reference. Her mind raced as she fought to recall some of the maneuvers and detailed illustrations she’d studied during the chariot ride. Yes…yes, she remembered now…

  “Unless you unhand me,” she cautioned with an air of emboldened self-confidence she didn’t really feel, “I shall be forced to inflict bodily harm. It is not my desire to mete out damage to any mortal being, so I beseech you to reconsider your dishonorable plan.”

  “Fuck!” the man said as he grabbed her neck, pressing so hard Lula almost blacked out for lack of air. “I thought I told you to shut up, you stupid cunt.” The next instant, she experienced the distinct feel of his penis trying to zero in on her nether regions.

  Expelling something akin to a tribal yell, Lula whacked the palm of her hand hard just under his nose, and as he staggered back a bit, she grabbed his shirt to hold him steady while she thrust her knee up between his legs, connecting with his groin. Just for good measure, she kicked him hard on one knee with the golden-tipped toe of her sandal.

  Collapsing to the filth-strewn pavement, the foul man shrieked like a little girl, one hand at his face and the other cradling his injured manhood.

  Lula straightened her academy uniform and tucked stray locks of her hair back into place. “Now, sir, if you’ll excuse me, I must be off to continue my search.” She stepped over the intended rapist, only to stop after taking a few steps.

  Turning back to him, she added, “Should you be foolish enough to impose yourself on any other unwilling female in the future, I shall personally seek you out and slice the offending, dangling bits of manflesh off your body. Is that understood?”

  Satisfied with his voluminous wail of a response, Lula continued on her quest to find Cupid.

  ———

  “At least another hour? What the hell are you talking about, Zeb?” Dakin Dronyer bellowed into the telephone. “I’m in over my head here. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, Dakin,” Zeb told his brother. “It’s not like I planned to have my car give up the ghost while I was at the supply store out here in the sticks, you know?”

  “Yeah but—”

  Zeb’s tuneful, voluminous sigh interrupted Dake’s protest. “If you have to leave and lock up the shop,” Zeb said haltingly, “just go ahead. I’ll understand. Even if…” He paused and Dake knew damn well it was for dramatic effect. “Even if it means I’ll be losing an entire day’s revenue. On a Saturday. The biggest, most important income day of my week.”

  “Look, Zeb, I just can’t—”

  “And even if means that it will probably piss off all my loyal, paying customers who are depending on me for the delivery of their promised floral arrangements today,” Zeb went on. “Like the Wentworths. It’s their fiftieth anniversary. If that pricey floral delivery doesn’t make it to Mrs. Wentworth today, it means big moolah down the drain.

  “And remember Mom and Dad’s neighbor, Mrs. Jorgenson? It’s her first birthday since she lost her beloved Pete. She’s been grieving for nearly a year and those flowers would really help cheer her up, Dakin. Remember how sweet and attentive she was to all of us after Mom died—and then how she kept us supplied in brownies and cookies and mystery casseroles after Dad died?”

  “Yeah,” Dake admitted, recalling how the frail old woman had fussed over them, intent on easing their grief. “She’s a sweet old lady.”

  “An angel. The very least we can do is send her a really nice arrangement.”

  “Sticking a flower in a pot looks nice to me,” Dake grumbled.

  “I bookmarked a page in the catalog,” Zeb offered. “Just copy what you see there. It’ll be a snap.”

  “I thought Mrs. Jorgenson’s husband died a decade ago.”

  “He did. Pete was her cockatoo.”

  Dake barked a laugh. “She’s been in mourning for a year over a fucking bird?”

  “Honestly, Dakin…” Zeb sighed. “Sometimes you can be so unsympathetic. Pete was more than just a bird. He was her companion and friend.”

  “Oh right, I understand,” Dake lied. He knew better than to take a ridiculous discussion about some stupid dead bird any further with his brother. It would just lead to another argument where he’d be accused of being mean, cold and heartless while Zeb came off as the kind, caring and sensitive one. Which was true but Dake didn’t want to waste time in another endless sensitivity discussion with Zeb.

  “Look, Zeb, it’s not that I mind watching your business for a little while but the stench in here is pretty hard to take, you know? It’s making me nauseous.”

  “What stench?” Zeb bristled. “The flowers at Cupid’s Headquarters are always fresh and in perfect condition, Dakin.”

  “Well, fresh or not, they still stink to high heaven. Jesus, Zeb, I feel like I’m a stiff in a goddamned funeral parlor, for chrissakes. I don’t know how you can take that sickly sweet smell all day, every day.”

  “Unlike the manly smell of grease and burning rubber or wire or whatever the heck it is that you’re always fiddling with, you mean?” Zeb sniffed.

  “That comes along with the territory of being an electrical contractor,” Dake explained. “Look, Zeb, even if I wanted to be here I don’t have the faintest idea how to put all this flower crap together to look like the stuff in these pictures.”

  Dake groaned as he looked at the floral arrangement catalog and all the frilly related shit around him. There were all sorts of flowers inside and outside of refrigerated glass front cases, containers of all shapes, materials and sizes and all the mysterious-looking stuff that he supposed went into the containers to hold the flowers in place. “This is your area of expertise, Zebulon, not mine.”

  “Trust me, Dakin, if there was anyone else available, anyone, I would have called them instead. It’s just you and the delivery driver for now. Poor Edwina’s sick as a dog with a vicious head cold and Alfred’s got classes in the morning. In the meantime, just let your inner woman come out, Dakin, and you’ll be fine.�
��

  Dake rolled his eyes and tsked. “For the umpteenth time, I don’t have an inner woman.”

  “Of course you do. All men do.”

  “Uh-huh, maybe all gay men do, Zeb, but your big brother is straight, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “You sound positively green with envy, Dakin.”

  “Hey, knock it off. I am not envious that you’re gay. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “Sorry.” Zeb laughed. “I can’t help it. You’re so damned easy.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny. Can’t you tell those lazy sons of bitches it’s an emergency and that you need your car fixed right now, pronto?”

  “Well,” Zeb said in muffled confidential tones, “there are two lovely, muscular young men working on it right now. I’m sure they’re doing their brawny best. Alfred will be there in another hour or so, maybe less. Besides, Dakin, I thought you told me you had a day off today and you didn’t have any pressing plans.”

  Dake cursed under his breath. Partially because he’d been stupid enough to open his big mouth and let Zeb know he was free today and, dammit, partially because his brother was always there for him whenever Dake needed him. The least he could do was to man Zeb’s froufrou flower shop for a couple of lousy hours without pissing and moaning about it.

  “Yeah, all right, Zeb, I’ll—” When the bell for the front door jingled, Dake glanced up. “Fuck,” he said.

  “What’s wrong?” After a moment of silence, Zeb said again, “Dakin, what’s wrong?”

  “You got a customer,” Dake said, doing his best to keep his eyeballs from bugging while he scraped his jaw up from the floor. “She’s gorgeous…and she’s practically naked.” He felt his cock jerk hard in his jeans.

  “Probably not Mrs. Jorgenson,” Zeb offered.

  “Definitely not. Gotta go. Talk to you later. And take your time, Zeb.” Dake hung up the phone and locked eyes with the dazzling vision walking toward him.