Wounded Wings (Cupid Chronicles) Read online

  His fingertips brushed up her scarred forearm, blazing a trail hot enough to brand her, then he was gone.

  Chapter 20

  Michael ignored the pounding on his door as he implored Gabriel on the other end of the phone. “But it’s a 9-1-1 emergency! I’m trying as hard as I can, truly I am. And I have every faith in Father’s plan, but I fear our fallen brother is just too far from my reach—”

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Michael glanced at the door with an irritated glare. Who could that be? He silently entreated them to buzz off.

  “Are you going to answer that?” Gabriel asked.

  Huh?

  “It could be important,” Gabriel continued. “In fact, I’m fairly certain you’ll want to get that. I’ll wait.”

  Michael harrumphed and flung open the door, only to stand face-to-face with the biggest angel he’d ever seen besides himself. If he didn’t know him as Brother, he’d have been intimidated by the tall, burly man with thick, salt and pepper hair and fathomless black eyes.

  The man stuck out his paw of a hand. “Jophiel,” he said in a commanding voice that sounded like boulders crashing in a canyon. “But most people just call me Jo.”

  Michael snapped his gaping mouth closed and accepted the man’s hand. “Michael.”

  “Yes. I’m aware. Gabriel said I should seek you out.” His eyes roamed into the apartment. “May I come in?”

  Michael stepped back. “Yes, of course.” Gabriel had sent him? Why?

  Oh, Gabriel! He was still on the phone. “Excuse me.” He kept his eye on the stranger as he pressed the phone back to his ear. “Gabriel?”

  “Yes, Brother? Did you get the door? Is Jophiel there?”

  “Um, yes. You sent him?”

  “I did. He’s from Prophecy and on an important mission for Father. He must pass a message to someone in your town of New Destiny before he moves on to his true destination. I thought perhaps you could use a friendly face since you’ve been on your own for so long.”

  Michael glanced over as the newcomer settled himself heavily onto his threadbare sofa with a grunt. Friendly face?

  As if reading his thoughts, Gabriel went on. “I know his appearance is somewhat . . . intimidating. But, Michael, really. So is yours. He is a wise and ancient one of our kind. He’s been a good friend to me. You can trust him, I promise you.”

  Wise and ancient, huh? Michael took a second glance as this Jo character sucked something from breakfast from his teeth. He glanced away. “All right, Gabriel. I will. Thank you.” He took a deep breath. “Take care.”

  They said their goodbyes and hung up, and Michael wondered what would be the quickest way to get rid of his guest without being rude. He spun around, a smile plastered on his face. “Jo—”

  “Have you figured out the key to our fallen brother’s heart yet? I saw him as I came into town, you know, and I daresay it’s staring you right in the face, friend.” He glanced up. “Right in the face.”

  Naomi studied the menu, trying her best to not look at Dr., er, Gage Arrington’s face across from her, reflected in candlelight that should’ve been romantic in the little Bistro.

  Why was she even here?

  She took a pitiful swallow of her water and attempted a smile. Because he’d asked her out in a moment of true weakness, that was why. If he hadn’t come in the bakery not even an hour after Eli had left, his words still singed onto her heart, she might’ve had the power to say no. After all, Dr. Arrington was a nice enough guy . . . nice-looking, smart, pleasant . . . but they were just friends. There would never be anything romantic between them. No spark.

  Not like the explosion of fireworks she felt with Eli.

  Not even close.

  She glanced at him and his kind blue eyes caught hers. It was like being on a date with . . . Beau. Ewww. God, he was going to rib her good. She could just hear it: Doctor and Nursey, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G . . .

  She thanked her lucky stars when the pole-thin waitress came over to take their order, breaking the uncomfortable tension.

  Dr—Gage cleared his throat once she was gone. “How’s Vi?”

  Naomi’s shoulders relaxed at the easy topic, thankful he’d chosen something easy. “Good. Stronger every day. The doctors think she’ll be able to be released from rehab and go home before the festival. Though she’s getting a little stir crazy and giving those physical therapists a run for their money now.”

  He smiled at her.

  Nice, but still no spark.

  “That’s great.”

  “Yeah, I’ve missed her a lot.”

  He fiddled with the corner of a napkin. Maybe he wasn’t the only one nervous and uncomfortable. “And I’m sure it couldn’t be easy running things at the bakery by yourself.”

  She shook her head. “No, but I’m managing.”

  Under the table, she heard his foot tapping. She picked up her water and sipped again.

  “Naomi?” he finally asked.

  “Yes?”

  “May I ask you a personal question?”

  Her heart rate spiked as she imagined the possibilities. Her life was full of painful ones. “Okay . . .”

  His eyes darted down, then back up to hers. “Why don’t you use your nursing degree?”

  She sank back a bit in her chair. She hadn’t expected that one. Something about her parentage, or her lack of a social life, maybe. Very few people even knew she held a nursing license. She never said anything and she’d shushed Vi when she wanted to brag about her degree. Because of her own shame.

  What was there to be proud of about a wasted opportunity? A dead dream?

  But as pain knifed her in the gut, she couldn’t deny that the dream wasn’t as dead as she’d thought. Just dormant as she’d set about doing what must be done to repay a debt.

  “How did you know?” she asked, her voice a pained whisper.

  “Vi. She’s my patient, and on a visit she let it slip.” He gave a wry half-smile. “She’s very proud, as she should be. She told me how hard you worked. Why would you give something like that up?”

  The waitress came again and set down their salads and breadsticks, the rich, garlic scent wafting up pleasantly.

  She shrugged. “I didn’t. Just put it on hold.”

  “Ah.” He sipped his drink. “So, why did you go to nursing school? What do you want to do?”

  Her gaze snapped up. His eyes were twinkling with a grin. He sincerely wanted to know. Trouble was, the dream was so long buried, she’d nearly forgotten. “Uh . . .” She glanced down at her salad, fidgeted with her fork. Remembered. “I’d love to do community nursing, like a clinic.” She glanced back up. “Or something with children. I really love children.” An aching, forgotten love filled her heart. “But I’m happy at the bakery.” She caught his gaze and held it, hoping to convince him. And herself.

  After a perfectly pleasant, slightly boring dinner, and an unspoken truce to not discuss her nursing career, or lack thereof, Naomi and Gage (she finally quit thinking of him as Dr. Arrington) left the little Bistro and decided to go out for dessert.

  “Charlie’s Creamery?” he suggested, his eyes actually sparkling. “I loved that place as a kid.”

  She smiled. “Sure.”

  He took her hand and led her to the car, but it felt friendly, nothing romantic about the evening at all. They made small talk as they drove toward the ice cream parlor and Naomi finally started to relax. He might not be Eli McSexy Pants, and her body might not ping and zing in his very presence, but he was nice and respectable. He had a nice smile. He was a gentleman. He had a good job. He drove safely.

  Oh, good God!

  Since when had driving record come on her list of datable attributes? He wasn’t a NASCAR driver, for cryin’ out
loud!

  She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity as they pulled up to the ice cream place, only to realize simultaneously that it was closed.

  “Oh, no,” he moaned. “That sucks.”

  “It does.” She paused. “What now?”

  He quirked his lip. “Maybe DQ?”

  “Ah, no thanks.” She’d had her heart set on the homemade double scoop of mocha fudge “Let’s just go to the diner. They’ll at least have something freshly baked.” She giggled. “I know because I made it this morning.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll beat a swirly cone any day of the week.”

  She didn’t have to twist his arm. He backed into traffic and they headed to the diner. Maura had them seated with warm peach pie à la mode and coffee in record time.

  Gage groaned over his first bite. “Oh, Naomi, this is heaven. Great idea.”

  She smiled and kept her eyes firmly on him. Not on the kitchen, where she knew a certain good-looking cook who wanted her, but wouldn’t admit it, was.

  I’m trying to save you, even if it kills me.

  Save her from what? Dying of lust? Sorry, buddy, already happening. Guess they’d die together.

  Shit. Her eyes automatically found Eli through the kitchen window. She glanced away before he spotted her and quickly took a bite of her pie.

  “And so was our date.” Gage smiled at her after a sip of coffee. “Eli was right.”

  She swallowed the heavy lump that suddenly lodged in her throat and stared at Gage. “Excuse me?”

  He dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I mean, I know it was a bit awkward at first, but I think we’ve had a good time. We get along.” He covered her hand with his. “Don’t we?”

  “Uh, sure. I guess,” she said, still stuck back on the first part. “But, what did you mean about Eli?”

  “Well . . .” His gaze darted toward the kitchen then back. “He suggested our date. Said something about us being perfect for each other. That you knew I was going to ask you out.”

  Anger pumped hot, heavy, and immediate through her veins. Her ears grew hot and her eyes burned. “Oh, he did, did he?”

  She stood and Gage peered up at her. “Yes. Was there some misunderstanding?”

  “No. No misunderstanding. If you’ll excuse me.” She spun away and mumbled under her breath, “I’ve got someone’s cute ass to kick.”

  Chapter 21

  The kitchen door hit the wall with a resounding smack, rattling Elijah’s pans precariously.

  Somehow, he had a sneaking suspicion who he’d find fuming at his back. He waited until it whooshed closed before he turned.

  Naomi glanced down at the gleaming 10-inch chef’s knife in his hand and quirked her brow. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

  Carefully, he set down his blade and picked up a rag to wipe his hands, not quite meeting her eyes. Fully aware Dr. Arrington was sitting in the dining room with their half-eaten pie, he could only guess what she was going to say. “Really? What’s that?”

  She remained silent for a moment. Her foot began to tap furiously. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her cross her arms. “Gage? Really?”

  He finally met her gaze. Her green eyes were absolutely sparking with anger. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Eli! You arranged this whole thing . . . him asking me out—” She bowed her head as if unable to continue, but not before he noticed the tears quivering on her lower lashes.

  His gut clenched. He’d never meant to make her cry. “Naomi—”

  “Why?” she asked again. She seemed to be asking him that a lot. Then she glanced up at him again, her eyes full of emotion. “He’s like a brother to me. It’s almost like going on a date with Beau.” She swiped an errant tear. “Am I so horrible? Such a ‘sin?’” she asked, tossing his words back at him.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “Then what is it? Please tell me.” She shuffled uncomfortably. “I’ve never been this shameless in my life, and I know I’m practically begging here, but I guess I just need to know what . . . what’s wrong with me?”

  Oh, God. Didn’t she understand? She was perfect in every single way. It was him that was as black as the starless night sky. “Nothing. Not a thing. It’s not yo—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “I know, it’s you, not me, right? I think I’ve heard this one before.” She yanked herself up straight, obviously not believing him. “I got it.”

  No, she really didn’t.

  “Well, listen,” she went on, “just do me a favor, will you? No more blind dates. You can keep your romantic advice for the other lonely ladies of New Destiny. I’ll take care of myself, okay?”

  “Okay,” he acquiesced, not knowing what else to say.

  “And we can finish our work on the benefit for Emma, then I guess we can be friends as long as you’re in town.” She glanced down at his pile of julienned carrots, then back at him. “If you want.”

  “I do.”

  She nodded then spun on her heel to go, but paused with her hand on the door as if in deep thought. He heard her ragged intake of breath and longed, more than anything, to go to her and comfort her. But she shocked him when she faced him with a wicked little grin. “Hey, since we’ve decided on a truce, you free to meet tomorrow afternoon?”

  He studied her eyes. “Um, sure. What time?”

  Her grin grew wider. “Meet me at the Y about four.”

  “The Y?”

  “Yup.” She pressed the door open. “We can talk about the benefit while I give you that swimming lesson I owe you.”

  The door swung shut on her laughter and all he could think about was all the ways she could drown him.

  Michael took Jophiel around town the next day, and the big, mysterious angel did eventually grow on him as a bit of a surrogate Gabriel. But, he was remarkably tight-lipped about his current assignment, and what he was doing in New Destiny. The only thing Michael knew was that it was serious—heck, when was Prophecy not?—and that he was beginning to get the impression that their two missions were somehow intertwined. He just couldn’t figure out how, and the big guy was no help.

  But, it was nice to talk shop and about home and old friends. It was just nice to be around one of his own kind.

  “So, Michael, Gabriel told me about your Tudor incident.” Jo laughed as he bit into a slice of Vi’s apple pie.

  Michael cringed. His biggest embarrassment as a Love Detail cupid. “Yes. Unfortunate. I’ve worked hard to redeem myself.”

  Jo sobered quickly. “Redeem yourself? Why on earth would you need to redeem yourself for the idiocy of one man and his abuse of Father’s free will?”

  Yes, so Michael had often been told, believed most of the time, and yet still had to remind his heart of daily. “I suppose you’re right, Brother,” he murmured.

  “I know I’m right, Michael. And so should you.” Jo’s tone demanded eye contact. “You’re being prepped as leader of the Love Detail, Michael. You are a fine Cupid. Do not question your skill.” He waved around them. “Even what you are doing here . . . a fallen brother . . . that’s important, Michael. Father sees something special in you. It would be a shame—I daresay a sin—if you didn’t see it in yourself.”

  Michael bowed his head as Jophiel’s words resonated within him. “Thank you, Brother.”

  “You’re welcome.” He sipped his coffee. “Now, let’s get out of here. I have work to do.”

  “Sure.” Michael stood and grabbed the check. “Where to?” Finally, he’d get some inkling what might be going on with the mysterious angel.

  “I need you to take me to church.”

  Chapter 22

  Naomi rushed through her workout at the Y that morning and debat
ed putting on a T-shirt over her swimsuit. What had possessed her to remind Eli about the stupid swim lessons? Heck, she could just as easily hand the benefit planning over to someone else, too, for that matter.

  But, as she caught sight of him strolling in, his liquid brown eyes avoiding the pool at all costs, she knew what had possessed her.

  Eli Smith and his sex appeal. Period.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  She ignored the impulse to suck in her stomach and offered him a smile. “Hey.”

  He tossed down his towel in the chair next to her. “Hi.”

  Her gaze raked down his body. She’d never seen him dressed so casually—faded flannel shirt over a gray T-shirt, blue board shorts, flip-flops. He usually looked like a Calvin Klein model. Her cheeks grew hot as his eyes roamed her in return. She couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw. Automatically, she used her right hand to cover her left forearm’s scar. His eyes returned to hers, but he didn’t say a word. She stood from her pool chair. “So . . . you ready?”

  “Not really.” His half-smile was honest.

  She grinned back. “We’ll start in the shallow end.” She moved ahead of him and tiptoed down the steps getting used to the overpowering scent of chlorine. She turned around when it was obvious he wasn’t following her. “You’ve really never swam before?”

  His gaze quickly darted around the enclosed area as if making sure they were really alone. That typically wasn’t a problem at this time on a school day—water aerobics was over and the kiddos liked weekends. “No.” He cleared his throat. “Never.”

  She moved to waist-deep and studied his face. “Are you scared?”

  He shook his head a little too emphatically. “Nah.”