First Quiver

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First Quiver Page 13

by Beth C. Greenberg


  “If you two will excuse me,” Cupid said, grabbing the handle of the metal cart and spinning away from the two of them.

  “Hang on.” Pan yanked him back by his collar and pinned him in place with a fierce glower. Cupid slipped a finger inside his neckline, glaring at Pan until he released his powerful grip. The two men traded scowls until Pan muttered, “Gimme a damn second, will you?” under his breath.

  Gooey Pan resurfaced, setting his hands on the girl’s shoulders. “I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a hurry this morning, or I would absolutely take you up on the melon-squeezing lessons.”

  “Oh.” Rejection jarred her out of her trance. “Maybe another time, then? I’m here just about every day after tennis.”

  “Sure,” Pan answered, and Cupid read the longing all over Pan’s face as the woman slipped through his fingers.

  The two friends gawked at the pleated skirt swinging against the back of the muscular thighs. Swish, swish, swish, swish. Pan snapped out of it first, slapping Cupid on the back and pushing their cart toward a row of green vegetables. “Look at all the damn lettuce choices they have down here. Is it not ridiculous?” Pan plucked a bag of lettuce off the shelf.

  “Pan, what just happened?”

  “You don’t want kale? I’m flexible. How do you feel about arugula?”

  Cupid grabbed Pan’s wrist. “That woman completely ignored me.”

  “Yeah,” said Pan with a weary sigh, “sure seemed that way.”

  “What do you make of it?”

  “A sample of one doesn’t necessarily prove anything.”

  “Is it just one?” Cupid had raised their least favorite topic again, but he had to know if Pan still wanted him.

  Pan’s forehead squinched as he worked out what Cupid was asking. “Come to think of it, the urge to jump your bones is more of a pleasant buzz than a burning need.”

  “Oh.” The sample size had just doubled.

  “Maybe I’m just getting acclimated.” Pan offered a hopeful but unconvincing shrug.

  “Maybe.”

  “Hey, with or without erotic superpowers, you are easily the hottest guy walking this planet.” Pan squeezed Cupid’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’d still do you in a heartbeat.”

  Cupid half–smiled back. It was something, at least.

  “But,” Pan continued, “it doesn’t seem like you’ll be having any more of those little morsels you’ve been feasting on since you got here.”

  He’d suspected as much, but hearing Pan confirm his suspicions still set Cupid’s teeth on edge. “Forever?” Maybe he didn’t hunger for anyone besides Mia right now, but if he couldn’t have her, and nobody else would ever want him, the idea of eternity stretched ahead of him like a cold, dark tunnel leading straight back to his miserable past—with the notable difference being he now knew what he was missing.

  “Whoa. We don’t know that yet,” Pan said. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

  While not exactly reassured, Cupid at least appreciated the solidarity. Pan “had his back,” as they were fond of saying down here, though Pan’s gaze had drifted down Cupid’s front and caught on the conspicuous hump punching through his baggy shorts like a large fist forced into a small mitten.

  “You seem to have a situation there.”

  “I’m really not in the mood, Pan.”

  “Your heart might not be in the mood, but your dick sure as hell is.”

  “It’ll go away.”

  Pan’s eyebrows shot up. “Need I remind you, you’re about to show up for Mia’s class, wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy shorts over that thing?”

  “What would you suggest I do about it?”

  “I suggest you take care of it.”

  “Myself?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize you needed detailed instructions.” Grabbing a zucchini from the display to his right, Pan stepped in close to Cupid. “Observe.” Pan curled his hand around the zucchini and pumped his fist up and down along the poor vegetable, waggling his eyebrows at Cupid all the while.

  “Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget how to do that.”

  “I should certainly hope not. Now, go on and make it quick.”

  Taking himself in hand in the grocery store washroom was about the most unromantic encounter Cupid could have imagined, but he couldn’t argue with the economy. Fifteen minutes later, however, a massively frustrated Cupid scuffled out of the bathroom to find Pan pacing by the exit, plastic bags hanging off his arms.

  “’Bout time!” Pan huffed his way through the automatic door. “You sure picked a shit time to draw it out.”

  “I didn’t draw it out, Pan. I couldn’t . . .”

  Pan spun around so quickly, the bags crashed together against his side. “What?”

  Cupid held his hands up so Pan could see the problem. And there it was—still.

  “Motherfucker,” said Pan.

  24

  Showing Up

  Q didn’t simply enter the studio; he redefined the space. Mia’s godlike lover with the iridescent eyes and sweet, guileless smile was here in the glorious flesh, and no, her memory hadn’t embellished a single detail. Mia’s cheeks heated as snippets from last night replayed like a porno across her mind. If not for the premature release of those three little words and his awkward retraction, it would’ve been the perfect date.

  Damn him, a little bit, for putting the cart a mile before the horse. Mia was nowhere near ready to ask herself those questions about someone she’d just met, but that didn’t mean she had to push this guy away over a postorgasmic blurt, did it?

  “Hey. I thought showing up might be better than calling. I know I’m a little early for class. Is this okay?” Showing up was already light years ahead of the last guy who looked at her like that. This one seemed almost too good to be true—childlike, yet somehow trustworthy.

  “Sure. You ready to work?” Mia felt her lower lip slide behind her teeth and knew she was flirting but couldn’t resist the pull.

  He let go of a shaky breath and nodded. “Yep, and I brought water this time.”

  “Quick learner,” she answered. “Did you bring your friend?”

  Q’s easy smile flattened into a straight line. “Don’t tell me you want Pan too?”

  “Want?” Mia shrugged. “Just to say hello.”

  “Oh.” He sighed again and seemed to be working something out in his head. Q took a tentative step forward, and Mia’s body answered with an all-over tingle that defied the heat and raised goose bumps all across her flesh. “No, Pan’s not here. You’re stuck with me, I guess.”

  Those crazy-sexy eyes of his flashed at the husky gasp that escaped her. Lucky for Mia, Q couldn’t see the twinge between her legs. “Eh. I suppose I’ll deal.”

  Q grinned full-on, and Mia’s cheeks filled with her smile. That dizzy, weak-kneed, swoony thing was happening again.

  “Is it okay if I kiss you?” His question was more foreplay than request; his lips were already moving closer even as his whisper caressed her.

  Mia nodded, wondering if she needed to add, Yes, but you better hold me upright while you do.

  Q’s pretty mouth closed over hers, blotting out such mundane considerations as gravity and balance; luckily his arm tightened around her waist just in time. Mia jumped when the cold bottle hit the small of her back. They broke apart with laughter and apologies.

  “Sorry, I forgot I was holding that,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. I think I bit your tongue.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Q rolled the injury around in his mouth, still breathing heavily while he assessed the damage. “I’m a quick healer,” he added.

  “I certainly hope so. You might be needing your tongue again soon.”

  Q’s eyes popped open wide.

  Whoops. Forwar
d much, Mia? “Lunch. It’s nearly lunchtime.”

  “Ahh, so that’s the hunger growing inside me?”

  Do not look down. Do not look down. Okay, no lower than his belly. Oh, holy hell, there it is. Her gaze locked so very inappropriately on his tightly contained erection, but she was powerless to stop herself. What the hell is it about this guy?

  The studio door opened with a whoosh, and one of her regulars skated inside. “Morning, Darren,” she called out.

  “Hey, hot stuff.”

  Q’s eyebrows banged together with a serious back-off glare aimed at Darren. Mia had to admit, the possessive flare-up felt kind of nice, even if Darren’s endearment was completely innocent.

  She pushed her fingers into the spaces between Q’s and squeezed his hand. “Maybe we should continue this conversation later?”

  “Sure. Can I take you to lunch after class? I know this deli with a great pastrami sandwich. Come to think of it, that might not be the best idea—”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I have a hot date with my three guys.”

  “Three?” Unibrow was back.

  “Easy there, killer. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like,” she added. “My sons are in the day care. I have a picnic blanket and PB&J in my car. I’m gonna be sweaty and gross. You game?” Truth be told, Jonah had already asked when he could see Q again.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Mia searched his face for signs of sarcasm but found only the eager frankness she’d come to expect. “Better stick close to me again—so I can keep my eye on your form.”

  He played along with a solemn nod. “For safety’s sake.”

  “Oh, absolutely. Go get a mat,” she said, tipping her chin toward the closet.

  Q’s gaze fell to their joined hands. He brushed his thumb across her knuckles and back again, sighed heavily, and released her fingers as if it were the hardest work he’d done in years.

  Mia considered herself a pro—the locals had voted her a “Best of Tarra” three years running—but the next ninety minutes, she struggled to remember the other twenty-four people in the studio. Q had a way of muting everything and everyone else in his presence. Mia slid her limbs and torso effortlessly from one pose into the next, loosened by the heat and inspired by Q’s vigilant watch, which he made no effort whatsoever to hide.

  Only his sun-and-moon pose gave her true cause to lay hands on him, but Mia invented enough reasons to remind herself exactly how tight and flexible that body of his was. Mia’s final meditation was alarmingly unpure, and the blush accompanying her “Namaste” surely gave everything away, not that Q’s hooded gaze was any more chaste.

  He waited for her near the door, chugging down the rest of his water while Mia closed up shop. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m just gonna freshen up. Meet you back here in a few?”

  “Freshen up? You promised me sweaty and gross and something called PB&J.”

  “You’ve never had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” Where on earth had this guy spent his childhood?

  “Nope, but I can’t wait to try it—if you have enough. I wouldn’t want to take food out of your kids’ mouths.”

  “Tell you what,” she answered, “I’ll split mine with you, and we’ll make up the difference at dinner.” Yeah, you just did that, and without a sitter again. Another date with Q at home with the kids . . . and her bed.

  “Dinner?” A smile teased his cheeks but couldn’t quite make itself at home.

  Might he have been mulling over the whole single mom situation? Fantastic. Now, Mia had scared the guy away from a simple lunch by hitching a trailer to the picnic blanket.

  “Hey, never mind about—”

  “You have yourself a deal, Mia.”

  25

  Threesome

  “Q!” Jonah dodged his mother’s outstretched arms, his entire being bursting from captivity like confetti shot from a cannon. Cupid barely had time to shield his crotch before the boy crashed into his knees and wrapped his arms tight around Cupid’s sweaty thighs.

  “Hey, buddy. Good to see you too,” Cupid said, bubbling over with laughter and ruffling the boy’s hair.

  “Mommy said we might not see you again, but here you are.”

  Cupid’s mirth died under the crushing weight of his predicament. Searching frantically for the proper response, he located Mia across the room as she bent to hoist the toddler into her arms.

  Dropping to his knees, Cupid wrapped his arms around Jonah. “Of course I am. I couldn’t stay away from you guys.” If Jonah only knew how much truth that statement held. “Are you taking good care of your invisible arrow?”

  “Mmhmm,” Jonah hummed against Cupid’s chest. “Will you tuck me in tonight?”

  “That’s up to your mother.”

  “What’s up to me?” The baby’s stroller rolled to a halt.

  Cupid cleared the frog from his throat and peeled Jonah off his sweaty chest. “Uh, Jonah was just asking if I could tuck him in tonight.”

  Mia set her hand on her oldest son’s shoulder, sandwiching the boy between Cupid and herself. “We’ll see,” she answered.

  Jonah’s face lit up again, and he leaned in and cupped his tiny hands around Cupid’s ear. “That means yes.” Jonah’s too–loud whisper spilled warm, moist air all over the shell of Cupid’s ear, and Cupid couldn’t help but giggle.

  Scooping up Jonah, Cupid stood to meet Mia’s eye roll head on. The toddler in Mia’s arms glared at Cupid. “Well, hello there, little guy. You’ve got your mother’s pretty green eyes.”

  The boy whipped his head around and buried his face in Mia’s bosom.

  “And this would be Eli,” Mia said with a smirk.

  “He’s only shy at first,” Jonah said.

  “Oh yeah?” Cupid and Mia shared a grin. “How about Lucas? Is he shy too?”

  “Lukie doesn’t talk. He’s just a baby.”

  “Ahhh, right.” Damn, Cupid was falling for sweet, earnest Jonah, so very eager to please.

  “Let’s go, J-man. Mommy’s got your favorite, PB&J.”

  “Can Q come too, Mommy?” Jonah asked, digging his fingers into Cupid’s shoulder.

  “Of course I’m coming,” Cupid answered, taking off toward the exit with a sudden sprint that left Jonah clutching him even tighter and trailing his breathless, deep-throated trill all the way to the patch of grass where he’d helped Mia set up their picnic. Greedy for more of Jonah’s giggles, Cupid grabbed the boy’s hands and twirled him around in tight circles until Jonah’s body stretched out from Cupid’s extended arms like a wood plank slicing a neat disc through the sky. Mia and the little ones caught up just as Cupid and Jonah collapsed onto the blanket in a pile of dizzy laughter and weary limbs.

  “I flied, Mommy! Didn’t I, Q?”

  After a knee-jerk moment of grief over his own lost wings, Cupid nodded. “You sure did, Jonah.”

  With Eli still clutching Mia for all he was worth, she sank down next to them, shaking her head and grinning. “Honestly, I don’t know which of you is the bigger kid.”

  Cupid popped up onto his elbows. “That would be me, or have you forgotten my size already?” He waggled his eyebrows, drawing, “Oh brother,” and a deep blush from Mia.

  Whatever strange force had overtaken the woman at the food market earlier, Mia’s desire for Cupid had clearly not diminished. Nor had his, er, situation, which had progressed well past irritating and into downright painful. Even the heat and exertion of yoga had not stemmed the tide of Cupid’s unrelenting arousal. While the prospect of infinite staying power intrigued him somewhat, he couldn’t bear to imagine how long he might be afflicted with this new torture. For the first time, Cupid genuinely empathized with Priapus, whose permanent, colossal yet useless erection served as a living reminder that no body part is exempt from divine “justice.” Poor
Priapus had simply been the wrong fetus of the wrong seed in the wrong womb, although in typical Olympian fashion, it was unclear whose womb and whose seed, only that Hera had inflicted the curse because Aphrodite’s beauty eclipsed her own.

  “Joe, why don’t you show Q how you help Mommy with Eli so I can feed the baby?”

  “Okay.” Jonah walked on his knees across the blanket to the picnic basket. “Here’s what you do, Q. First, you take off this straw.” He demonstrated pushing the sharp end of the straw through the wrapper. “Now poke it through here,” Jonah said, puncturing the silver circle in the juice box, “and then you hand it to Eli.”

  Eli snatched the juice box out of Jonah’s hands and shot Cupid a suspicious glare while gnawing on the tip of the straw.

  “And then, you find his samwedge”— Jonah dug deeper into the basket and pulled out a plastic bag containing bite-size pieces—“and you open it up.”

  “Can I do that for him, Jonah?” Cupid asked, figuring the surest way to win Eli’s heart was by filling his belly. It usually worked on Cupid anyway.

  “Sure.” Jonah handed Cupid the bag.

  Eli’s eyes narrowed. He flung out his hand and yelled, “Me!”

  “Here you go, buddy,” Cupid soothed. “I’m opening it for you.”

  “Nnnn.” Eli kicked the bag out of Cupid’s hand.

  Mia cupped Eli’s chin in her hand and swept her thumb across the tiny dimple. “Eli! Is that any way to treat our new friend?”

  Cupid backed away from the toddler. “It’s okay, Mia.” Give the boy time, he wanted to say, but Cupid had no idea whether winning over the boy was included in the gods’ plan, and the last thing Cupid wanted to do was give anyone, including himself, false hope.

  “Here you go, Mommy. For Lukie.” Jonah handed his mother two plastic boxes and a spoon with a soft white tip.

  “Thank you, sweetie.” She unstrapped the baby from his stroller and pulled him into her lap. “You hungry, Lukie? Mommy’s got some nice, mashed carrots for you. Num, num, num.” The adoring expressions shared by mother and son mesmerized Cupid as Mia dipped the spoon into the bright orange mush and delivered it to the baby’s mouth. “’Zat good? Mmhmm.”

 

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