Counterfeit Cupid (Mt. Olympus Employment Agency: Cupid #2)(8)

I stopped dead in the kitchen doorway and felt my blood drain into my toes. The Love-Meter Deluxe vibrated hard on my wrist. Annie sat at the kitchen table, looking tired but still beautiful, both of her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

If Annie was my client, somebody at the office was getting their ass kicked when I got home.





4. Annie


One of the best things about having a sister was knowing she would always answer the phone and come to the rescue when the other was in crisis. One of the worst things about being a sister was always having to come to the rescue when the phone rang—especially when I’d only been home from a double shift long enough for a quick catnap.

But…sisters. So, there I was. Listening to my sister fight with her husband while I sipped my coffee and tried to insert reason into the conversation wherever I could.

Richard stood blinking under the overhead light, looking like a kicked puppy. “Honey, I honestly don’t know where this is coming from. You know I was at the firehouse for the last three days. My shift schedule is right there on the fridge.” He pointed at the shiny silver door covered in animal magnets they’d collected from various zoos.

Her eyes filled with tears, probably for the third time in the last ten minutes. “But you didn’t even call. It’s like the minute you walk out that door, I don’t exist anymore.”

This was the general theme of the entire argument. Richard groaned and paced the floor. He’d already pointed out to her twice that he had called, but she hadn’t picked up, so he’d left her a voicemail. He showed great restraint in not repeating himself a third time. She’d already decided he knew when she would be in the shower or in the laundry room and wouldn’t hear him call.

Something was definitely wrong with Val.

I set my mug on the table and reached under the table to scratch Maggie’s head. She licked my hand and whined. Mommy and Daddy were fighting, and Maggie didn’t like it. I didn’t like it, either.

Maggie’s head came up, nostrils flaring. She let out a chuff and turned toward the arched doorway into the living room. Her tail wagged slowly as if unsure whether to be happy or not.

I lifted my head, much like Maggie had, and sniffed the air. The windows were closed, but I smelled something like a combination of clean laundry and freshly mown grass. I frowned.

Maggie trotted into the living room, and I followed until she stopped at the front door and fell back on her haunches.

“What did you smell, sweetheart?” I patted her head. The scent lingered for a moment, then disappeared, as if between us, we’d sniffed it all up. I glanced toward the kitchen and considered whether to call out to my sister and brother-in-law, so in the unlikely event they noticed I was gone, they wouldn’t be worried. Val’s voice got louder, so I decided not to interrupt. “I’ll be right back, Maggie.”

I opened the door and stepped out on the porch, sniffing the breeze. After a moment, I caught the scent again and followed it down the steps.

The likelihood that I was hallucinating due to lack of sleep was strong. I shrugged off any self-doubt and followed the elusive smell down the sidewalk and around the corner.

The street was empty. The only life I saw was a pair of squirrels chasing each other around a tree and a robin eyeing me sideways from a bush. A few cars sat in driveways, but mostly people were gone for the day or their cars were in their garages. A gray car—one of those compact models that really wanted to be a Mini but wasn’t—was the only car on the street.

As I stood contemplating my own sanity and made plans to turn off my phone when I got home so I could get some real sleep, my hallucinations added sight and sound to the previous smells I’d been experiencing.

“Dammit. Let go already, you stupid—” A man’s voice came out of nowhere from somewhere near the little gray car. A second later, the man popped into existence, struggling with something hanging off his back.

I stepped behind the nearest tree, feeling vulnerable and stupid. I wasn’t even surprised that he was the cute guy I’d checked in at the hotel the night before. His scent was unique, and I’d enjoyed it until he’d turned out to be a slimeball. I was obviously having one of those junk dreams where random items from the previous day made appearances.

When I peeked around the tree, he’d managed to pull the white thing off his shoulders. His shouts had turned to mumbles, and I couldn’t make out the words. When he held up the object of his wrath, I could see they were wings—big, white, flat wings. I’d worn a similar contraption several Halloweens ago when I’d dressed as the Ghost of Christmas Past, but mine had been pretty. His were ridiculous.

Maybe parachute material was the manly version of fairy wings.

I chuckled to myself. Maybe he was in town for a tooth fairy convention. My chuckle turned to a giggle, and I had to cover my mouth. Was he wearing tights under those cargo shorts? Was it casual Tuesday for tooth fairies?

I had reached the point in sleep deprivation where I’d gone a little loopy, and the image of a hot womanizer running around in pink tights, “manly wings,” and a tutu did me in. I bent in half, laughing so hard tears clouded my vision, and I had trouble breathing.

As I almost got a hold on myself, I wondered if his wand was manly, too, and the laughter started all over. I was braced against the tree, bent over, laughing in hysteric silence when the car door slammed and the car pulled away.