Cupid Daddy (Fantastical Daddy Doms Book 5)

by Allysa Hart

  “Arrrghh!” I screamed again, still with my face planted onto the cool oak of my oversized desk.

  And that’s when the bell on the door jingled, signaling an arrival.

  Oh lord. Please let it be Kimmy, maybe with more of that delicious coffee.

  Pulling my hair out of my eyes, I lifted my head and looked out at the front of my office.

  It wasn’t Kimmy. But it wasn’t a client either.

  Instead there was a delivery man, whose face was blocked by the most giant arrangement of roses and wildflowers I had ever seen.

  Dozens and dozens of roses were crammed into a pink crystal vase, tucked in between a smorgasbord of wildflowers in every variety and color imaginable.

  “Um, hello?” I stood up from my desk, and walked to the reception area, thankful that I couldn’t see his face, and he couldn’t see mine. “Can I help you?”

  “Delivery for Rebekah.” He cleared his throat. “No last name. Just Rebekah.”

  “I’m Rebekah,” I admitted wearily.

  The bouquet shifted and I grimaced. He was going to have to put it down soon, or I was going to have to grab it, and then I would have to show my face.

  The only thing I could do now was hope that there was enough space between my office and the reception area that he hadn’t heard the tail end of my little shit-fit meltdown.

  “I’m hoping these flowers will help make your day a little better,” he said as I reached to take the vase from him.

  No such luck.

  For both of us.

  I set the vase down on the entry table, and took the offered clipboard, signing to confirm that I had received delivery.

  I managed to do all of that without looking at him. But then I sneezed. Three times in quick succession, and when I looked up after the third sneeze, I looked straight into his eyes. Thank god it wasn’t anyone I recognized.

  At this point, that wasn’t even my biggest problem.

  I was allergic to roses. I could already feel my eyes watering and my nose itching from being this close to them.

  I would be a sneezing, sniveling mess as long as this ridiculous bouquet sat here.

  I had to get rid of it.

  Maybe I could give it to Kimmy, and have her take it over to her bookstore, or drive down to the nursing home and split the fragrant blooms among the residents.

  Maybe.

  But first I had to figure out who they were from.

  “Is there a card?” I asked, refusing to look at him.

  I swear he rolled his eyes at me before reaching over and plucking a small white envelope from its place, nestled in between two large blooms.

  I glared back, and snatched it from his hands. Whoever had sent it wasn’t important, because if they were they would have remembered I was super allergic to roses and pollen, and hopefully refrained from trying to kill me.

  I sneezed again, a powerful and wracking sneeze that propelled the upper half of my body forward, forcing me to bend at the waist.

  When I stood, I wiped my nose with my sleeve, and lifted the flap on the tiny envelope, pulling out a pretty one sided note card. The top was adorned with a floral design.

  Thank you for the lovely welcome to the neighborhood. Let’s do dinner sometime soon.

  Yours,

  Eros Adonis

  Fuck my life. His name was Adonis? My Greek god was literally named after a Greek god. Two of them.

  I wasn’t an expert in Greek or Roman mythology but even I knew enough to recognize that the name Eros was the Greek version of the Roman god, Cupid.

  Great. A hot as hell god-looking man was bad enough for business. A gorgeous as sin matchmaker who was literally named after Cupid was brutal.

  And what kind of matchmaker honestly thought that the way to a woman’s heart was stealing her business and following it up with some flowers she was allergic to and a dinner invitation?

  An egotistical moron, that’s who.

  I threw the card in the garbage and watched as the delivery man hightailed it out of there. Now the flowers. I scowled at them from across the room.

  The arrangement was obnoxiously large, which meant the fragrance and allergens were overwhelming.

  I had to get it out of here.

  Covering my face with the neck of my sweatshirt, I picked it up, and hauled it to the front door. I would take it to the nursing home after work. I was hell bent on the idea that something good had to come out of this disastrous day.

  If some roses sent by a self-important, narcissistic prick would brighten the day of some sweet old women, I could at least be happy for that.

  I flung the door open, stepped onto the sidewalk, and stopped short at the scene in front of me, utterly stupefied.

  The traffic on Main Street was bumper to bumper, and parked cars lined the side of the street. The sidewalks were packed with people, and I immediately got shoved into the crowd, almost dropping my vase full of flowers.

  I looked to my left, and saw the delivery man still standing there, gazing out at the chaos with a stunned and confused stare.

  “Is it a holiday?”

  I shook my head.

  “A festival?”

  Again, no. We had several festivals in the summer that crowded the sidewalks and blocked the roads, but they were tame in comparison to this.

  I sneezed again, and shifted the flowers.

  “Where did all these people come from, then? And what are they doing?”

  One glance across the street gave me my answer, and had me choking in shock.

  My little friend’s business was completely full of people. Standing room only, with a line out the door and down the sidewalk.

  “What in the everloving hell?” I whispered. My jaw tightened and my heart began to race.

  I had been here for years, in a shop handed down to me by my Nana. I was a staple in the community.

  I had to practically beg for business anymore.

  And now this yahoo swoops into town and suddenly the streets are lined with every single person for a hundred miles?

  You have got to be kidding me.

  Never underestimate the power of a nice set of abs.

  A couple walked out hand in hand. I recognized the woman as a client of mine whose subscription was about to expire. She had been on my call list.

  I saw red. Literally, red spots swam on the sidewalk in front of me. I held back a sneeze and remembered the stupid flowers.

  I hated them even more now.

  Pure and unadulterated anger overtook me, and before I knew what was happening, I was marching across the busy road, wedging myself between cars as I made my way to the other side of the street. I hopped up onto the sidewalk with purpose, shoving people out of my way. I even body-checked one poor unsuspecting gentleman.

  Finally I was at his door. A simple glance through the glass confirmed that there was no way I was getting inside anytime soon.

  “Hey, no cutting! The end of the line is back there!” A busty brunette with bright red lipstick and no wrinkles to speak of attempted to shove me out of the way.

  “Oh calm your tits,” I muttered. “I’m not going in.”

  I wasn’t going in. That much was clear. I sneezed again, and looked down as I did so.

  I was standing on a bright white welcome mat that matched his sign, and the writing on the window.

  Cupid’s Matchmaking Service.

  Stupid ass name.

  Seeing no other course of action, I unceremoniously turned the vase upside down, dumping the cloudy water all over his perfect white mat.

  Several bystanders jumped out of the way to avoid getting hit with the splash. Some of them cried out in surprise. All of them looked at me like I was crazy.

  When the water was emptied from the vase in a puddle at my feet, I smiled, and shook the vase harder.

  The crammed in flowers fell into a pile on top of the wet spot.

  I caught the eyes of a few gapers, before grinding the blooms under the heel of my bo
ot.

  It felt good.

  For my closing act, my grand finale, I took two steps back, and hurled the vase at the ground with every ounce of force I could muster.

  Watching it shatter on the cement felt good. Empowering. Vengeful. A fuck you to a man who thought he could steal all my business and then win me over with a bouquet of flowers.

  I have news for you, buddy. I’m not that kind of woman. Fuck your flowers and fuck you too. This is war.

  Chapter 4

  Eros

  “Lila.” I gestured to the seventy year old woman, clutching her purse with a death grip as she balanced a questionnaire on a clipboard on her lap. “You can keep filling that out if you want, but, it really isn’t necessary. I found someone special for you, and he’s on his way back down here as we speak.” I was careful as I spoke to not look directly at her, and I was thankful that her attentions seemed focused on the papers in front of her at the moment.

  Lila, with her frosty white curls and pearl necklace regarded me with a high level of suspicion. “My granddaughter, Brittany, seems to think you are some sort of love guru, but as she’s been with the man you found for her for a grand total of seven hours, you’ll have to forgive me if I don't share her high level of confidence just yet. I prefer to finish filling out the form, young man, if it is all the same to you.”

  I didn’t have an argument for that, being unable to explain my true identity, so I just smiled and nodded.

  Lila eyeballed me shrewdly, and I averted my gaze, but I knew the exact moment that my best efforts were thwarted. The clipboard made a noise as she decisively slammed it onto the desk. I watched with horror as she stood, and walked around the desk, until she was only inches away from me. She was a petite woman, and came barely up to my chest, even with her sensible old lady heels. I looked down at her, and she looked up at me, licking her bubble gum pink lips.

  “Have you ever been with a cougar?” she asked with a wink.

  I’m pretty sure you’re well past the age of cougar.

  “I’ve aged like a fine wine,” she informed me, mischievously, grabbing my waist with both hands. “Most men my age can’t keep up with me. Their thingies just don’t work anymore, if you catch my drift.” She jerked her head downward, and I could feel her gaze boring into me as she zeroed in on my crotch. “I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have that problem.”

  One hand left my hip, and she placed a finger below my belly button, slowly tracing it down my happy trail to my belt buckle.

  Stupid pheromones.

  I stared at the front door, willing her match to appear.

  Bert would be here any minute, and then, if my instincts were correct, which I knew they were, Lila would become a believer, just like her granddaughter. And, hopefully, she would forget about me, and turn her interests to a man who wasn’t half her age.

  The door started to rattle, and I carefully disentangled myself from the frail but amorous Lila, and rushed to unlock it. I had already closed up for the day, and had only let Lila stay behind because I knew Bert was coming. If they were any other couple, I might have made them wait until tomorrow, but when you were as old as they were, every minute counted.

  I unlocked the door, and Bert stepped in, holding a very dapper looking hat. He wore a dark blue suit and a colorful tie, and he lit up the room when he smiled.

  “Sorry, I’m late. That’s quite the mess out there.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” His gaze was zoned in on Lila, who hadn’t noticed him yet. I could feel her eyes on my ass.

  Lord help me.

  The presence of a true match seemed to be the only thing that broke the spell of the pheromones, and I held my breath, praying that I had been right about Bert and Lila.

  I hope his thingy still works, or I’m screwed.

  “Well hello, little lady. You must be Lila.”

  She looked up then, her eyes widening as she seemed to break from the trance of the pheromones. Her cheeks turned pink as she took in the dashing older gentleman I had chosen for her. Her hand flew up to clutch her pearls.

  Thank the gods.

  “Oh my.” She tottered over to us, a bit unsteady on her feet, and held her hand out in front of her, with the palm turned downward rather than sideways, as if she expected him to kiss her knuckles. “Yes, that’s right. I’m Lila. And you are?” She tittered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

  “It’s Bert.” He took her offered hand, but instead of lifting it to his lips as she so obviously expected, he used it as leverage, pulling her to him with a flourish, knocking my chair over in the process.

  Her body was now pressed tightly against his, and she was blushing as she stared up at him, batting her fake eyelashes.

  I watched in awe as he wrapped an arm around her, and dipped her body as if they were dancing and coming in for the big finish. When he pulled her up, he didn’t hesitate, closing his lips over hers in a kiss that was dramatic and breathtaking, even to watch.

  Lila must have felt the same way because when they came up for air, she covered her lips with one hand, as if they were burning and she was trying to cool them. “Oh my.”

  Bert smiled, flashing a set of pearly white teeth that I was pretty sure were real, and offered his arm.

  “Now that the introductions are out of the way, what do you say we go get some dinner, and get to know each other a little better?”

  “I’d like that very much,” Lila agreed, taking his arm.

  As they walked out, I heard him whisper, “If you play your cards right, maybe we can have breakfast too.”

  I laughed as I let go of the door, letting it slam and locking it behind them.

  Lila might have had her doubts, but I had chosen well, and neither one of them would be needing my services in the future.

  Seventeen solid love matches. Fifty-six appointments on the books for this week, and 100 interest surveys filled out.

  A stellar and productive first day.

  I had been a little bit worried about my ability to perceive matches without my wing magic and my bow and arrow, but it seemed that those were just my props and symbols. They did not make the man.

  Ninety solid years of training did. In god years I was 100, basically still a baby, but in mortal years, I was a mere thirty two.

  This mortal thing was something else. With my wings, 100 matches in a day was all in a day’s work, and the job was far more physical with all the flying and shooting involved.

  Matchmaking as a mortal was all paperwork and instincts. I could sit on my ass in a chair all day, and basically had.

  So why then was I so flipping exhausted? My shoulders ached and my back felt cramped. I felt a slight twinge of pain behind my eyes and my stomach was making a weird rumbly noise.

  I needed to get out of here, and find the apartment that Zeus had procured for me. I had no expectations that it would be set up at all, but as long as there was a couch or a mattress or a mat on the floor where I could crash, I would be happy.

  I should probably get some food too. Then maybe my stomach would stop making the weird growling noises it had been making all morning.

  Back home, I ate, like a king actually, but I didn’t have to. There were no physical manifestations of hunger if I didn’t. Here, away from the gods, that didn’t seem to be the case.

  Jake had mentioned a cafe on the corner. Maybe I would stop in on my way to my apartment. I checked the address on the note Zeus had sent with me.

  Calling it a note was generous.

  It was a plain piece of white paper that had an address for home and an address for work, and four words in chicken scratch writing at the bottom of the page.

  One year. Or else.

  He was waiting for me to fail. Expecting it even. I had no idea if he and my father were watching over me and tracking my progress, but I hoped they were because I had had a damn good day.

  Those were the thoughts running through my brain as I shut the blinds, and flipp
ed the signs, closing up shop until tomorrow.

  And then I stepped outside. I heard the crunch of glass under my feet and I looked down. Glass and broken flowers littered the sidewalk in front of my shop. Roses and wildflowers. Just like the ones I had sent to Rebekah.

  My day had gotten so busy, I had almost forgotten.

  She had apparently gotten them. And hated them. As evidenced by the mess I was currently standing in.

  Flowers were a no-go, I surmised. And this woman, the love of my life, was determined to hate me. Suddenly, all of the day’s successes seemed trivial and meaningless.

  If I couldn’t get Rebekah to fall for me, I was a goner. And it wasn’t just about getting my wings back anymore. Since the moment I had laid eyes on her, my heart had become part of the equation, and now it felt broken.

  It seemed to clench in my chest as I stared down at the smashed petals.

  Nobody ever said finding your perfect match would be easy. That was a line I had been preaching all day.

  Saying it to clients was easy. Accepting it for myself was a different story.

  Wearily, I stepped over the mess, and turned toward the address that my apartment would be located at. I would worry about clean up, and a broken heart, tomorrow.

  Tonight, I had only three priorities. A game plan for phase two, food, and sleep. In that order.

  I stopped at a deli and grabbed a pre-made sandwich to go, a cookie, and a couple of bottles of water. I had no idea what to expect when I got to my new home, and I wanted to make sure I at least had dinner and water.

  My apartment ended up being only a few blocks from my shop, which was a convenient little detail.

  It was a secure building with a keyed front entry, and stairs to the next three floors. There was an elevator that didn’t appear to be in service and a panel of mailboxes lining the wall near the entrance.

  Not fancy by any means, but clean, and not a total dump.

  My apartment number was 310 and my thigh muscles burnt as I warily climbed up two flights of stairs and walked to the end of a short hall.

  My keychain had three keys on it. One for the shop, one for the apartment, and a smaller oddly shaped one that I assumed went to the mailbox.