Accidentally Aphrodite (Accidentally Paranormal Novel Book 10)

by Dakota Cassidy

  Right here. With Nina, while Ingrid and Khristos went off to find some coffee with the strict instructions that she act on nothing.

  “It’s probably all that hot air you got keepin’ those hooters of yours inflated.”

  “Or the sting of your sharp tongue, perhaps?”

  She rolled her eyes at the vampire and once more tried to zip up her faux leather jacket. She hoped being Aphrodite came with a clothing expense account, because if this kept up, she was going to have to go shirtless.

  “I could go home,” she offered. Nina had razzed her from the second they’d left Quinn’s apartment and she hadn’t let up.

  Quinn instantly scooted closer to her, gripping the vampire’s icy-cold hand and ignoring Nina’s flinch. She held it against her cheek and gave Nina her best Bambi eyes. “Please don’t do that, Wicked One. I can’t stop thinking about what Ingrid said about how there’s always a bad guy who wants what the newly turned paranormal client has. I can’t think of anyone who’d want to lug these cans around—because heavy. But I’m not sure I want to find out if that’s true without you there to help.”

  Nina snatched her hand away and flicked Quinn’s hair. “Ingrid knows the score. She’s seen some pretty ripe shite after Katie.”

  Her heart sped up. “Right. She told me about her old boss, Katie. So all of that really did happen? There really is that breed of bad guys in situations like this?”

  She knew her voice quivered, and she hated it, but she wasn’t ashamed to say she was a total chicken. Wings and all. She hated horror movies, hid under the covers and stayed there whenever Igor had indulged in his love of them by watching a marathon filled with gore.

  “Yes, Lite-Brite. There are really bad guys. Lots of them. There’s a Boogey Man, too.”

  She crooked her neck to look at the vampire, her lips pursed in disapproval. “You stop. You’ve gone too far. There is not.”

  Nina leaned forward, letting her elbows rest on her knees. “You’re glowing and I have a zombie named Carl. Are you really gonna poke holes in my flippin’ words?”

  Oh, my Jesus. There was a Boogey Man. “This is crazy.”

  Nina nudged her with her shoulder and snorted as if the Boogey Man was one big joke. “He’s an okay dude. Just misunderstood, and if you don’t get on with this shi…crap, I’m gonna text his ass and tell him to make a camp under your Barbie bed.”

  She closed her eyes and gulped. She didn’t ever, ever want to meet the Boogey Man. In fact, today, she rued the day she’d met Ingrid.

  But Nina gave her a light thwack on the shoulder. “Stop freaking out, Princess. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Instantly, that warmed her. “Why are you doing this?”

  Nina scrunched up her pretty face. “Because you’re Ingrid’s friend and she asked me to, dipshi…dork. She’s a good kid. I want her to be happy. If babysitting you makes her happy, then I’m all in. It’s not like she hasn’t taken a hit for us. Not to mention, she won’t let us pay her tuition for college. She said she’d earn it by working for us. Also, you helped her pass the first semester of art history, and even though you two schmoes are like ebony and ivory as far as age and anything in common go, you work. She told us you do. That’s why.”

  Nina’s loyalty to Ingrid stole her breath. For all the times Ingrid had taken a stand for Nina, for all the times she’d defended her poor language and cantankerous behavior, she hadn’t been kidding when she said you had to witness Nina at her best. That was no exaggeration. Her best was like no other.

  “You offered to pay her tuition?”

  “Yeah, we did. Not that she’ll let us. She wants to do something with her life, and she wants to damn well earn it. I want her to have what she wants because somebody has to be her GD cheerleader. So I snatched Marty’s worn-out, Mesozoic-era pom-poms and Wanda’s stupid-ass skirt, and this is me all cheerin’ her on.”

  Quinn cocked her head, dipping her chin into her scarf. Ingrid didn’t talk a lot about her home life. In fact, looking back, she’d talked more about the women of OOPS than anyone else. “What do you mean somebody has to be her cheerleader?”

  “Jesus, you’re nosy. Ingrid doesn’t have any biological family. It’s just us, and Katie and her husband and kids. She’s just a kid, and no way in hell was I going to let her move to New York without someone to look out for her. So we look out for her. I look out for her. That’s why I wanted to meet you after she told us you’d offered to tutor her for free. No one does jack for frickin’ free.”

  Except Nina and gang. How wonderful to have these people in Ingrid’s corner.

  “I didn’t know,” she murmured, still astonished someone so outwardly callous felt something so deep.

  “You don’t need to know anything else other than because she asked me to help you, I’ll do it. That doesn’t mean you and me are fuc—” She paused, clenching her teeth to keep from using foul language. Also another testament to how big Nina’s love could be. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends. So knock that girlie crap right outta your head or I’ll knock you on your ass.”

  Quinn smiled when she shook her finger in reprimand. “I thought you were trying not to swear?”

  “Ass isn’t a cuss word. It’s a donkey’s GD—”

  But Quinn suddenly wasn’t listening. There it was again. That feeling.

  And it tugged her—yanked her hard, up and toward an enormous oak tree where leaves fell in soft multicolored flutters to the ground and a couple stood, leaning against it, holding each other close, almost as though they were posing for a picture.

  They were beautiful together. Long, lean, perfectly dressed against the backdrop of the overcast day.

  “Hang the hell on, Love Maker!” Nina ordered, her feet sounding right behind Quinn. “Khristos said to wait for him!”

  But she couldn’t. Whatever was propelling her forward gave her feet a life of their own. Her sneakers thumped against the concrete even as she heard Khristos and Ingrid yell her name.

  But it was all a little hazy and muted. Instead, she heard two heartbeats—heartbeats?—crashing out of sync until the sound of them morphed together and synchronized. And it was all she could hear, rhythmic, steady, as she pushed her way through a small crowd of German tourists to get to these two beautiful people.

  But what would she do when she got to them? Didn’t Hot Greek Guy say Cupid had to shoot the arrow to make it official? How did one call upon Cupid? Did he have a phone number? A Twitter account?

  “Quinn—waaaait!” Khristos barked.

  Her mother had always said she wasn’t a very good listener because her head was so high up in the clouds.

  Lately it seemed a lot of the things her mother had once told her were all coming to fruition.

  * * * *

  Ingrid handed her what was left of the coffee after it had sloshed from the cup as she’d chased after Quinn. “You’re a crappy listener, Quinn Morris.”

  She puffed her cheeks out and took the cup, wincing when Khristos glared down at her before he began to pace again.

  Oh, she was in trouble. So much trouble. “I did say I was going to suck at this, didn’t I? My head’s all a mess.”

  “And I did say to stay put until we returned, didn’t I?” Khristos asked, the tic in his sharp jaw pulsing beneath the dark stubble.

  Remorse stung her gut. “I don’t know what made me do it. It felt so right. The rest just happened.”

  Oh, had it ever happened. Just not in the way or with the finesse she was sure Aphrodite would have lent to the situation.

  Ingrid plopped down next to her and patted her thigh in comfort. “I don’t think that photographer really meant it when he said he’d sue your oversized boobs right off your scrawny chest. He was just talking smack because he was mad. Don’t worry, Quinn.”

  According to the ultra-swanky fashion photographer from some magazine whose name she couldn’t pronounce, she’d ruined his ultimate shot.

  Of the couple who were not suppo
sed to be together eternally.

  The absolute perfect shot. The one they’d waited all day for. The one they needed to have in by tonight so this ultra-swanky magazine could go to press.

  She bit the inside of her cheek before she said, “I knocked over his camera. I had no idea a camera had so many working parts. You think it was expensive?”

  Ingrid wrinkled her nose and waved a dismissive gloved hand. “Bah. He threw some numbers out, but I bet it’s all just bullshit. You know those creative types. They all think they bleed diamonds and shit Dolce & Gabbana. He probably lives in some crappy apartment in Brooklyn with his mother and her poodle.”

  Ingrid’s attempt to make her laugh wasn’t working. “That number he threw out was five thousand dollars.” Quinn blanched. She didn’t have five thousand pennies—not after that trip to Greece.

  “Well, yeah, he did. But all’s not lost. You did make a friend. That hot model who looks like he stepped right out of a Hugo Boss commercial was willing to pay good money to get his hands on whatever lotion you use to make you sparkle. He was pretty nice, right?”

  “He was gay, Ingrid. Gay, and I matched him with a straight female model—for life.” Oh, Jesus and a fucked-up mess, she’d really done it.

  “But Khristos fixed it. It’s all okay now.”

  She snorted her disgust. “I could have ruined his life, Ingrid! What if Khristos hadn’t been here? Because the time will come when he’s not. Poor Rolando could have ended up forever in the closet, unsure why he was madly in love with a woman he wasn’t even a little attracted to. And let’s not forget, Shay-Shay—”

  “La-Tee-Shay, remember? It’s part of her first name and her last name all mashed together as one. Her agent told her to do it so she’d get noticed. She was pretty, huh? But not as nice as Rolando. Kinda snippy, in fact.”

  “Not the point, Ingrid! As if she doesn’t already have enough self-esteem issues about her age—even if she’s just barely twenty, but she could have ended up with a man who physically wouldn’t want her ever, but who she’d love desperately anyway. In 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 in the flesh.”

  Quinn’s mouth hung open, but she quickly snapped it shut when Nina slapped her on the back. “Say hello to the nice guy who shoots the arrow of luurve, Lite-Brite. It’s polite to fekkin’ make nice with your coworkers.”

  She squared her shoulders and nodded. “I’m sorry. I was just surprised by—”

  “Me without a diaper,” he finished for her on a chuckle.

  Yep. Right on the money. “Ye…yes. But it’s nice to meet you, and my apologies for my premature match. It just felt so right.”

  He held up his hands and grinned. “I get it. Love’s a powerful thing. Just ask your friend Nina here. She fought hard enough to make a WWE wrestler proud, but my arrow always wins out in the end. It’s like Khristos said, your aim was just off, but you’ll get better.”

  Nina grinned and gave his thick neck a squeeze. “Good to see ya, C.”

  Khristos gave Cupid a hard handshake. “Thanks for that save, buddy. If you hadn’t yelled at me to go left, we’d have been screwed. Couldn’t do this without you. Now you,” he said, turning to Quinn, “come with me.” He held out his hand to her.

  She took it hesitantly, letting the warmth of it seep into her skin.

  He led her to almost the exact spot where the photographer had posed Rolando and La-Tee-Shay and pointed to another couple just beyond the tree where she’d all but knocked them over.

  He pulled her closer, forcing her to smell his yummy goodness mingled with the crisp air of fall. Quinn gritted her teeth to quell the butterflies flitting about the lining of her stomach and cha
lked them up to never having had a man as incredibly good-looking as Khristos so near.

  “Look over there, Quinn,” he said, his tone hushed and gruff.

  She followed the line of his finger and saw an elderly couple with their backs to them, probably in their mid-eighties, judging by their hunched figures and silver hair. The man sat on a thick plaid blanket beside the woman who was in a wheelchair, his hand, aged and gnarled, entwined with hers.

  He looked up at the woman then; his gaze was tender, almost fragile, but the love shining from his eyes was so real it pierced Quinn’s heart. So real and so full of complete adoration, for the second time that day, her breath was stolen.

  The woman leaned over the arm of her chair and smiled back at him. The profile of her face, silhouetted by the setting sun, was just as full of love when she pressed a kiss to his lips and cupped his jaw with a hand that had a dried carnation attached to its wrist.

  Quinn’s heart melted right in her chest when the man rose and tucked a blanket just underneath the woman’s chin with such a fiercely protective gesture, her knees shook.

  A tear stung her eye and her throat tightened. She gripped Khristos’s arm. “It was them, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he murmured. “They were your target. But you were only off by a hair.”

  Her heart pounded as guilt pricked her very soul. “What would have happened if you hadn’t intercepted and saved the day?”

  She knew she shouldn’t ask. The answer would likely haunt her dreams, but she had to know.

  “You don’t really want to know, do you, Quinn? It’s all good now. That’s all that matters.”

  “No. I really do want to know, to serve as a reminder of how I could blow this whole thing sky-high. Call me a masochist, but maybe it’ll keep me on my toes. Because I couldn’t bear it if these two people had ended up apart when they so clearly adore one another.” Her words hitched, forcing her to clear her throat.

  Khristos turned to face her, his eyes, glinted with amber flecks, searching hers. “If I hadn’t intercepted, Bart would have lost his courage for the second time in their lives and Alice wouldn’t be wearing that carnation around her wrist—one he’d dried and saved all these years. That was her engagement ring, so to speak.”