So dazed was Cupid, when Mia tore herself from his lips, he could have sworn she uttered, “Jonah?”
Giving his head a little shake, Cupid attempted to reengage his mental faculties. “Sorry?” He craned his neck when he noticed Mia’s gaze was focused over his shoulder.
“Mommy?”
17
Monster
Crud on a cracker, Joe! Now? Really? So much for keeping her boys out of this.
Q spun an about-face, his stunned gaze blinking from mother to son and back again, and Mia could hardly blame the guy. Jonah’s surprise appearance had splattered shards of sapphire around the edges of Q’s already dazzling blue eyes. He deserved an explanation, but Mia could barely think.
“Can you give me a minute?”
Q answered with a wooden nod as his hands fell away from her back. She tingled where his fingers left her, felt chilled where his lips had warmed her in a way she hadn’t been warmed in far too long. Wow. Maybe Jonah’s interruption was the universe hitting the pause button so Mia could get a grip on herself before she did something they might all regret.
She stepped around Q’s hard, eager body and crouched to pull Jonah into her arms. Heavy with exhaustion, Jonah wilted over her shoulder like a sack of rice.
“C’mon, little bug. Let’s tuck you back in.”
“The monster came again, Mommy,” he whined into Mia’s neck.
“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s gonna get rid of him.” She rubbed soothing circles into Jonah’s back, the planets and stars of his big-boy pajamas clinging to his clammy skin. Afraid to meet Q’s gaze, Mia felt his eyes on her back as she wore the familiar path to the boys’ room and prayed he’d stick around long enough to let her explain.
“He’s under my bed.”
“Shh, shhhh, we don’t want to wake your brothers,” she whispered, squatting until both their faces were level with the space under his bed.
“Look, Joe. Nobody here but Merlin.” Damn cat doing his damn nocturnal patrols, chasing dust-bunny mice. Why do I let him sleep in the boys’ room again? Oh yes, because their father is a miserable ass, and these boys need all the love they can get.
“Mommy, do the spell.”
Mia put on her serious voice and waved her hand in a mysterious circle. “Subsistam, monstrum!”
A tentative breath shook out of Jonah’s chest. “Did it work?” he whispered, his trusting little hands pinching deep wells into Mia’s shoulders.
“Hold on; let me check.” Mia squeezed her eyes closed and listened for any stray noises in the night that might spook him again. “Yep, all gone. Now, it’s back to Sleepyland for you, J-man.”
Mia peeled Jonah from her body, settled him gently inside the crumpled bedding, and smoothed the top sheet and blanket across his chest. His perfect little face made her breath hitch, as it often did—thick brows perched like two little awnings over soulful, brown eyes, a sturdy nose, and a pair of full, cherry-pink lips. It wasn’t Jonah’s fault he’d inherited his father’s handsome features, but sometimes Mia worried for him and all the hearts he might break. She, unlike her mother-in-law, would not raise her boys to be assholes.
Perched at the edge of the bed, she pushed the damp hair off Jonah’s forehead and bent to leave a kiss on his soft cheek.
Jonah yawned and drilled his fists against his eyelids. “Who is that man you were kissing in the kitchen?”
Mia’s heart stuttered. How much did her five-year-old son need to know? She was deliberating between “one of Mommy’s yoga students” and “a new friend” when a soft voice behind her took them both by surprise.
“I’m Q.”
Heart in her throat, Mia craned her neck to the doorway where Q stood, hands in his front pockets. In the faint illumination of the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, Mia could make out Q’s astonishment as he fully digested the scene: Lucas asleep in his crib, quietly sucking his pacifier; Eli curled up in a fetal ball just beyond the bed rail; and a now wide-awake Jonah, sitting up in bed, peering around Mia to get a better look at the stranger.
“Hi, I’m Jonah.”
“Hi.” Q smiled at Jonah, then looked to Mia for direction. Her first response should’ve been anger. She’d asked Q to wait, though to be fair, she wasn’t specific about staying in the kitchen. And honestly, shouldn’t she have been at least a little freaked out? She’d just exposed her boys to this stranger she’d risked inviting into her home—and vice versa.
Funny thing, in the brief time she’d known this man with the odd name and mysterious past, “should” didn’t seem to apply at all. If it had, Q wouldn’t even be here right now. Inexplicable, irresistible sex appeal aside, there was something about the man’s aura that had fast-forwarded Mia’s strict timeline. He had a disarming manner that relieved her, at least temporarily, of the burdensome chainmail she’d worn since the shmuck walked out on all of them. Without seeming to try, Q made Mia trust him.
And want him. God, how she wanted him. I’m no better than Merlin with his catnip.
She hadn’t been with a man in—how old was Lucas?—nine months, plus eight and a half more, give or take. There was only so much companionship a vibrator could provide. After the post–abandonment cooling off period, once Mia’s resentment of all penis-bearing humans had more or less subsided, she simply hadn’t had any time to pine for what she didn’t have. Exhausted on every level, Mia would hit her own mattress as soon as the boys were tucked in and steal as much sleep as two young boys and a pregnant body—and later, a newborn—would allow. Working and breastfeeding and surviving had sapped all of her physical strength and choked off any sexual desire she might’ve dredged up. After a while, sex quietly dropped off her radar—until Q had walked into her studio and awakened her senses like a smoke detector in a forest fire.
How Mia had muddled through that class without hurting herself, she’d never know. At least she could breathe again once Q left the studio, but she had spent the rest of the day distracted in the best possible way. By the end of her last class, Mia had given herself permission to cash in the universe’s IOU and indulge in a little pleasure.
And now there he was, leaning against the doorjamb, waiting for her decision to either invite him into her life for real or send him away for good. As she took in Q’s unassuming form, it wasn’t desire Mia felt so much as relief he was still there, even if it meant Jonah was now impossibly awake.
Rewind. Q had just seen the three sons she’d neglected to mention, and he hadn’t run out of there screaming. Either the guy had a serious craving for lemongrass and tofu soup, or he was seriously hard up for sex.
Or maybe I’ve become a cynical witch.
In any event, the cat was out of the bag—all three boys plus the actual cat. Why banish Q now? Besides, there was a part of her, far enough north to be trustworthy, that sensed Q’s innocent, childlike openness might reach Jonah in a way she could not. And so, she risked it.
Praying she wouldn’t regret this choice, Mia scooted closer to Jonah and patted the blanket on her other side, an invitation Q accepted with a humble nod. He tiptoed over to the bed and sat down next to Mia.
“Is it true there was a monster in here?” Q whispered across her body.
“Yeah,” Jonah replied, wide eyes blinking at the curious turn of events, “under the bed.”
Q hastily retracted his feet and peered over the edge of the bed. “Is it still there?”
“No,” Jonah assured him. “Mommy spelled him away.”
“Oh, good.” Q leaned back onto his palms. “I don’t like monsters very much. Especially when I’m trying to sleep.”
“You have a monster too?” Jonah scooted back against his headboard, so enthralled with Q, Mia would’ve guessed she was all but forgotten.
Q leaned toward Jonah. “I used to. It was the ugliest, most grotesque creature who ever walked . . . the earth.”
“What did it look like?” Mia’s antennae rose as Jonah pressed for details—details that might make Q’s monster all too vivid.
Q launched into a description that raised the hairs on the back of Mia’s neck. “And would you believe it had not one, not two, but three heads? A goat, a lion, and a snake.” Super. Jonah’s second-biggest anxiety.
“Whoa. Really?”
“Mmhmm. And did I tell you about the fire breathing?” Ah, the trifecta.
Jonah sucked in a sudden gasp and dragged the blanket up to his neck. “Fire?” he echoed. Q couldn’t have picked more terrifying qualities for his monster if he’d been trying.
“Yes,” Q said solemnly. “It was terrible. Just terrible.” He punctuated the extra terribleness with a grave shake of his head. Mia resisted the urge to pull Jonah into her arms.
“What happened to it?” Jonah asked breathlessly.
“I got rid of her.”
Jonah shot Q an incredulous stare. “Your monster was a girl?”
“Yes,” Q answered, flashing a painfully intimate look at Mia. “Sometimes girls are scary.”
“How’d you get rid of her?” Jonah asked, eyes wide and eager.
Q favored Mia with a wink before answering. “I have a very special mother, just like you.”
Mia’s heart leapt into her throat. Damn, he’s making me the hero?
“You do?” Sweet Jonah, so hungry for a decent male role model. He was eating this up like a hot fudge sundae.
“Yes. When I was a little boy, she gave me a very special arrow for keeping monsters away. If it’s okay with your mommy, I can pass it along to you.”
Jonah tipped his head, and the reverence on her son’s face just about broke Mia’s heart in two. “What about you? Don’t you need it?”
Q reached over and ruffled Jonah’s hair with his fingers. “I already used it once. That’s all it takes.”
“Mommy?” Jonah turned his soft, questioning eyes on Mia, and Q’s followed.
“Sure, honey.”
Jonah’s little body twisted toward Q. “She said yes!”
“Great.” Q beamed another of his trust-me smiles at Mia before taking Jonah’s hand. “Okay, we need to stand up for this.”
Q hopped off the bed, and Jonah bounced up to his feet on the mattress. Mia bit her tongue; if the ritual involved jumping on the bed, so be it. She just hoped they wouldn’t wake Luke and Eli.
“Close your eyes,” Q told him, and Jonah immediately obeyed. “Put your arms out. Okay, Sir Jonah . . .?”
Q shot Mia a questioning glance, and she filled in the blanks. “Walker Barnes.”
“Nice,” Q said under his breath. “I hereby award thee, Sir Jonah Walker Barnes, the Invisible Arrow of Valor, to be used to slay the fierce bed monster of 136 Elm Street. Are you ready, sire?”
“Yes.”
Q brushed his fingers across Jonah’s outstretched hands, then curled the boy’s hands into fists. With his bigger hands surrounding Jonah’s, Q leaned in and whispered, “Okay, Jonah. You can open your eyes.”
Mia’s awe exceeded her son’s as Jonah slowly opened his eyes and beheld the wonder of his invisible monster-slaying arrow. His face became one giant smile. “Thank you, Q.”
Q released his hands and bowed with a formal flourish. “You won’t need it tonight, of course, but the arrow is yours now. If I were you, I’d tuck it under your pillow.”
Jonah dropped to his knees and slid the arrow under his pillow exactly as Q had suggested. Mia pulled the blankets up to her son’s shoulders, bent over, and kissed him on the cheek. “Night, Joe.”
“Night, Mommy. Night, Q.”
“G’night, Jonah. Sleep well, now.”
“I will.”
Mia couldn’t detect a trace of fear in her son’s voice. She walked to the door with Q trailing close behind. As soon as they rounded the corner, Mia grabbed Q’s hand and interlaced her fingers with his.
18
Soup
Despite their slow saunter back to the kitchen, Cupid’s thoughts were racing. Was he shocked to learn Mia had kids? Of course he was. The possibility had never entered his mind. But why would it? How could it? He’d pursued her with a single-minded determination that left no room for wondering who else might need her.
“You were kind of awesome in there,” Mia said, jiggling their joined hands.
As this new dimension of Mia seeped into Cupid’s understanding of her, he realized how very little he knew about this woman who had become the center of his existence, and on the heels of that realization, how none of it changed anything. The mysterious pull in his chest had brought Cupid here, and he seemed to have no choice but to stay as close to Mia as possible though he had no idea what he was supposed to say. A deafening stillness followed them back to the spot of their miraculous kiss.
“I know you have questions,” Mia said, placing her palm over Cupid’s thundering heart. “Can we talk over dinner . . . and wine? Please?”
Cupid wanted to cover her hand with his and quell the tempest brewing inside, but the gesture didn’t feel genuine. Suddenly, he was hungry and very much in need of a drink. “Sure.”
Mia slipped away from him and handed him the open wine bottle and two glasses. “Can you take these to the table while I get the soup?”
By the time Mia returned to the dining room, Cupid had lit the candles and poured the wine nearly to overflowing. Mia had obviously put some effort into setting a nice table for the two of them, and the smells coming from the soup bowls made his mouth water.
“Where do you want me?” he asked, causing a fresh blush to color Mia’s cheeks.
“Wherever,” she said. “I never sit out here, so . . .”
Cupid settled Mia into her chair before sitting down beside her. She lifted her wine glass; he did the same.
“Here’s to a wonderful evening.” Mia’s toast felt more like a plea as they clinked goblets. “I hope you like the soup,” she said, her voice fraught with anxiety. “It’s been a while since I’ve cooked for anyone other than myself and the boys.”
Cupid took a roll from the basket, tore off a corner, and dipped it into his soup. Placing the soup-soaked bread onto his tongue, he hummed with pleasure at the mixture of exotic tastes competing for his attention. “It’s delicious. You really made this yourself?”
Mia grinned while Cupid scooped two more spoonfuls of the broth into his mouth without a break. “Yes, I gave the scullery maids the night off.”
Cupid nodded and drew in another mouthful while Mia shook her head. He stopped eating only long enough to ask, “Aren’t you hungry?”
Dragging the spoon through her soup in thoughtful circles, Mia’s green eyes locked onto Cupid’s and held his gaze far longer than his question warranted. “Yeah, actually, I’m starved.”
His spoon froze in midair. “You should eat.”
Neither of them moved for the next few seconds, Cupid having remembered, half a bowl too late, it was impolite to eat everything in sight before one’s hostess took her first bite. He hoped this wasn’t one of those moments he was being watched from above. Hephaestus wouldn’t have a clue about table manners, but Mother sure wouldn’t be impressed.
Mia lifted her spoon to her mouth. As Cupid looked on like a jealous lover, a flash of pink tongue shot out for one tantalizing second, curled under the hot broth, and disappeared again. Cupid cleared his throat and reached for his wine glass.
Having taken part in enough Bacchanalia in his day to know the nectar of the vine tended to work at odds with one’s nobler self, Cupid sipped with moderation. Mia, however, tipped the wine between her lips, closed her eyes, and swallowed until half the glass was gone.
“Ahh. Much better.” She sighed heavily and folded her hands on the table.
Cupid watched her closely, spinning the thin stem of his
goblet between his fingers. Words still eluding him, he took another sip.
“So, yeah, I have kids.” Mia delivered the news with a flinch, as if waiting to be struck by one of Zeus’s thunderbolts.
Cupid held his tongue and offered Mia an encouraging smile. She spilled forth.
“I’m really sorry for springing all this on you. I was sort of hoping we could . . . that I’d . . . ugh.”
Cupid’s attention was drawn to the unfortunate napkin Mia was shredding to bits as she searched for the right words. He scooted his chair closer, then covered her hands with his own and soothed her with one of her own phrases from yoga class. “Find your center, Mia.”
She pulled in a practiced breath and released it in deliberate puffs. Her grimace relaxed. “Thanks.”
Cupid nodded, entwining his fingers with hers.
When Mia spoke again, guilt dripped like lead weights from her confession. “I wanted to make sure you liked me first.”
“I do like you, Mia. Very much.” His response could not have been more emphatic or heartfelt.
“Q . . .” She paused again and shook her head, and for one awful moment, Cupid wondered whether she’d ever be able to tell him what plagued her so, but she managed to pull herself together. “I’m lonely,” she said, twisting their joined hands.
Cupid’s heart swelled anew. “That’s hardly a crime.”
“I should’ve warned you about the kids, but I was afraid I’d scare you away.”
A new, terrifying idea occurred to him. “Are there more?”
“Because raising three boys alone isn’t enough?” A harsh bark rose from the depths of her throat.
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