Counterfeit Cupid (Mt. Olympus Employment Agency: Cupid #2)(11)

She’d been an observer, like me.

But I’d gone off the deep end and stormed out, furious at myself for being obsessed over someone I’d only met once, angry at Mt. Olympus for making me a Cupid in the first place, fuming at Ellen for sending me on an assignment I didn’t want, and pissed at the people next door for keeping me up all night.

When I got to the car and remembered how cramped it was in there, I’d lost my cool. I was not going to try and take off the wings in a compact.

It had been a huge, stupid risk, and I was lucky nobody saw me magically pop into existence on a suburban sidewalk in Texas. But an even bigger mistake was how I took them off. In my agitated state, I’d tugged too hard in the wrong direction and the elastic snapped on one side. Now my wings were wrecked. Both wings had to be attached in order for the whole unit to function.

And I still wasn’t sure who my client was.

But sleep and a little free coffee from the one-serving pot in my room helped me realize how much I’d blown things out of proportion. Nobody had seen me appear. I could probably hold the elastic on my wing in place with a safety pin. And tomorrow, I’d go back to that house and see who needed a blow dart in the butt to fix all their problems.

I checked the time. If Annie was working tonight, she’d probably start in another hour or so. My stomach grumbled at me, and I gave it a pat of apology. I wasn’t going down there until there was a chance I’d run into her.

I knew I was an idiot. Jen had moved out the day before. I still couldn’t muster any feeling about that other than a mild sense of relief. But that’s how all my relationships ended. They were okay for awhile, then they played themselves out. Cupid or not, I didn’t believe there was anything more out there than that initial rush.

Maybe a long-distance relationship would make that rush last longer. Who knew? But if I did manage to win over Annie, it still couldn’t last forever. Nothing ever did.

But don’t be sad that’s it’s over—be happy that it happened. That’s what people said, anyway.

I had to admit, it already made me heartsick to think about the inevitable end to my hypothetical relationship with Annie.

But those eyes. Green—true green—was so uncommon. There was something special about her. The way she smiled, her voice, the way she made me feel so welcome when I’d first walked into the lobby. Up until she’d decided I wasn’t worth her time last night at check-in, those eyes had smiled at me and made my blood pump faster. I wasn’t giving up quite yet.

Whatever I’d said or done to make her unhappy had to be something I could undo. I had to try.

*

She was there when I exited the elevator, and my face completely betrayed me. I tried to keep a neutral expression, but a goofy smile muscled its way into the situation. I willed it to stop, but it kind of settled in as if it planned to stay awhile.

The guy was at the counter again—Stuart, I think he’d said this morning—as she came through the front door carrying a small bundle of something under her arm and heading for the room behind the counter.

Stuart stopped her. “What did you forget that was so important? Did you find it?”

Her eyes grew wide and startled. “Uh…It’s woman stuff, Stuart. You know…” She gave him a pointed look.

He sputtered and turned red. “Oh. Of course. Sorry.” He ducked his head and straightened something under the counter.

Annie glanced my way, froze for a second, then bolted into the back room.

Apparently, she really didn’t want to see me. It felt like a slap to the face. How could she have formed such a terrible opinion of me in the ten minutes or less it took to check me in last night?

As far as that went, how could I have become so obsessed with her in those same ten minutes?

In an attempt to draw out my time in the lobby while I waited for her to come back, I strolled up to the counter with my hands tucked into the pockets of my jeans. I considered whistling on my way so I’d look casual, but decided that might be too much.

Stuart place one hand flat on the counter and smiled in a practiced way. “Mr. Flynn. How are you this evening?”

I blinked, surprised he knew my name. “Stuart, right?”

“Yes, sir.” He beamed. Apparently, guests didn’t usually remember his name. Then again, he did have a name tag on.

“Is the restaurant open for dinner yet?” I kept eye contact with him and didn’t look in the direction of the restaurant where people were obviously going in and out.

“Absolutely. Caffrey’s is open from 6:00 AM to 11:00 PM.”

I knew that from Annie’s check-in spiel and from the menu in the room, but I was stalling.

I leaned closer to him and lowered my voice, as if we were old friends sharing a confidence. “I had breakfast there this morning, but is dinner any good? Dallas is a huge city. Would you recommend I still have at least some of my meals here in the hotel?”

“Oh, yes.” His eyes lit up. “I eat there myself several nights a week.” He lowered his voice as if he, too, had a confidence to share. “The mozzarella sticks are wonderful.” The phone under the counter rang. “Excuse me a moment, please.” He picked up the phone, grunted and said a few yeses and one “I see,” jotted something on a piece of paper, then hung up.

Annie popped out of the back room at that moment, all tension and coldness gone. She gave me a friendly smile and turned to Stuart. “I tried to grab the phone in the back, but I was too slow. What do you have?” She pointed at the slip of paper in his hand.