Wounded Wings (Cupid Chronicles) Read online

  A few people were milling around the lobby, most of whom he knew from the diner. A couple waved and said hello. He had a sudden surge of shyness, having not been a part of a community long enough to be recognized since New York and angeldom. He found their familiarity a bit unnerving.

  He offered a brief acknowledgement then went in search of the rec room. He found it filled with several tables, metal chairs, and fluorescent lighting. And absolutely empty.

  He glanced at his watch. It was Saturday. Now 9:04 a.m.

  He decided to wait a few minutes and moved to the back of the room to glance out the windows. The view here wasn’t nearly as impressive as at Sharla’s. There was a large pool and a playscape with a few kids scampering around it. A huge, grassy field with sagging soccer goals on either end dominated the area next to the parking lot.

  After a while, it became obvious no one was coming, so he turned to go, just as the door swung open.

  He froze as Naomi’s sea-green eyes scanned the room quickly, giving him a brief moment to study her in her white sundress, dangly earrings, sunglasses pushed up on top of her head. Then she saw him, her gaze coming to rest on his face, and she slowly perused him up and down. Her appraisal warmed him as she seemed to like what she saw.

  She smiled. “You clean up nice.”

  “You, too.” He moved toward her. “No flour on your clothes today.”

  Her smile deepened, showing small dimples he’d never noticed before. “Nope. Vi’s got it covered this morning.” Her grin dropped a notch as her eyes flicked around the room. “Where’s everyone?”

  He shrugged. “I was wondering that myself. I was getting ready to go home when you got here.”

  She brushed past him, giving him a teasing hint of her scent—something sweet with a touch of vanilla and lavender that he found very enticing—and thunked her huge purse on the table to rifle through it. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. She shifted and leaned against the table as she pressed it to her ear.

  “Hi, Stephanie?” She smiled reassuringly at Elijah. “It’s Naomi. Listen, I’m here at the rec center for the festival committee meeting and nobody’s here. I was just wondering what’s going on? You coming?”

  She listened for a moment, her face clouding with confusion, then shock. “Really?” Her eyes shot up to Elijah. “You’re sure? When?” She pushed herself away from the table. “And you called everyone?” Her face paled as she pressed her face closer to the phone and turned away. “But you didn’t call me.” Pause. “Or Eli.”

  Her eyes were huge when she spun back to him. “I see. Well, we weren’t already notified. Mmmhmm. Well, thanks. I’ll see you later. Bye.”

  She hung up and sat heavily in the closest chair. “Well, crap.”

  He waited a beat to see if she’d tell him what was going on. But she just sat there staring at the phone in her hand. He sat next to her. “What did she say?”

  She glanced up at him. “Well . . . apparently the meeting has been rescheduled and everyone knew about it but us.” She furrowed her brows. “I thought we were the leaders of the committee. I don’t understand how this could’ve happened. I’m thoroughly confused.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s all right.”

  She glanced down to where he’d gripped her hand. He did as well, not having realized he’d done it. She peered back up into his eyes. “Not really. They picked another day that I can’t make it. It’s not that easy to get free time when you run your own business.”

  Funny, the zing was moving from his groin up into his chest and wasn’t altogether unpleasant. And she didn’t remove her hand from his, so he rubbed her knuckles experimentally with the pad of his thumb. It felt nice. “I understand,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “I only have a few free days myself.”

  She nodded. “So what should we do?”

  He glanced down at their overlapping fingers and was suddenly overwhelmed with visions of Sarah’s hand in his. He eased back and stood. “Well . . .” He glanced away then back to her once he had his emotions in order. “We could go ahead and meet ourselves. No reason we can’t get some preliminary ideas rolling now, then present it to the group later.”

  She studied him, her green eyes swimming with what appeared to be regret. “Sure. Sounds like a plan.” She grabbed a notepad and pen from her purse. Her face flashed what might’ve been hurt for a moment, but then it was gone. “So, let’s get started. You mentioned pie?”

  Naomi stared up into Eli’s Greek god of a face and willed her heart to get it together. Just because he’d held her hand for more than a few seconds was no reason to get all weak in the knees. He was just being friendly. He obviously didn’t have any feelings stronger than casual friendship.

  Did he?

  The way his thumb had traced the outline of her knuckles as his face took on that dreamy, unguarded expression, well . . . it spoke of something deeper than friends. Much deeper. No. It must’ve been her imagination.

  “What?” He studied her quizzically.

  She cleared her head and brought it back to the here-and-now. Maybe not a good idea with that adorably puzzled expression in his deep, dark eyes, that sexy stubble, and what was up with the male model ensemble?

  She cleared her throat. “Pies. You suggested a pie toss, right?”

  “Oh, right. I did. You think that’s a good idea?” His face relaxed as they started to get down to business.

  She glanced up from her notepad, where she’d already jumped ahead and was jotting down ideas for pie toss victims. Beau being first on her list. “It’s a great idea.”

  He grinned and it did crazy things to her insides. He glanced down at her list. “Nice start. What kind of pie should we use?”

  “Well, I don’t think it matters. Something cheap and simple. We could even use whipped cream in a pie pan just like Revenge of the Nerds. Minus the naked women pictures.”

  He tilted his head. “Revenge of the Nerds?”

  “Oh, come on. You haven’t seen that movie? It’s an 80’s classic.”

  A strange emotion flickered through his eyes, then it was gone. “Must’ve missed it. Whipped cream, huh?”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sure we could do a little better.” She watched as he paced to the window and gazed out over the lap pool. “You swim?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “No?”

  He turned back to her. “No. Never.” Regret laced his words.

  Her jaw might’ve hit the ground. “Never? As in . . . never?”

  His eyes flicked to the ground briefly then back to hers before he shook his head once.

  Wow.

  He just stood there staring at her, his piercing gaze drilling into her. Seeping into her heart, her barriers, her denial. As if he was elementally different from her in every way, and yet as close as the very breath in her lungs. He was overwhelming.

  She looked away, trying to grasp some semblance of balance. What was wrong with her?

  She peered up as the chair next to her squeaked and he sat. The words were out of her mouth before her brain could filter them. “I could teach you.”

  “Teach me?”

  Damn. She’d put her foot in it this time. “Yeah. To swim. I thought when you said you’d never . . . never mind. It’s silly.” Suddenly his trendy tennis shoes were fascinating and she couldn’t take her eyes off of them.

  “I’d like that.”

  His softly spoken words caught her off guard. Her head flipped up so fast she nearly gave herself a head rush. “You would?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” He grimaced, his brows thundering downward. “But . . .”

  “But, what?”

  He looked adorably chagrined. “But I don’t have anything to offer you in return. I would hate to be unfair to you, Naomi.�
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  The way her name rolled off his tongue made her quiver. But his words broke through and she saw her chance to see him in a bathing suit fleeing quickly. She had to act fast. “Oh, well, I want to. It’s not unfair if I offer. As a friend.” She smiled reassuringly.

  But he didn’t seem convinced.

  Her brain kicked it into high gear. She decided to be brave. Eli in a pool with swimwear—a Speedo if she was lucky—was worth the risk. She swallowed as she prepared to lay her biggest, most sacred secret at his feet.

  His earnest eyes implored her, as if he knew she was about to say something big.

  “I . . .” She could do it. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing at all. “I can’t cook.”

  His lips parted to say something, but no sound came out. Yeah. What do you say to someone who makes edible delights for a living who can’t actually make anything else to feed herself? It was ludicrous.

  The only thing that could possibly make the moment more humiliating happened when someone cleared their throat behind them. A furious blush climbed up her face as they turned simultaneously.

  Michael smiled sheepishly. “Hey, guys.” His eyes didn’t quite meet hers. “I was hoping I could speak with Eli alone for a few minutes?”

  Oh, no. Big Michael had heard her admission. Wonderful.

  She’d go crawl in a hole now.

  Chapter 10

  Naomi walked into the bakery and smack into her next big embarrassment—literally—when she ran into Vi and Sam canoodling at the door.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry,” Naomi said, even as she felt the second blush of the day begin to stain her cheeks hotly.

  Sam ducked his head and backed away toward the exit. “Excuse me.” He shot Vi a heated gaze filled with a meaning Naomi didn’t want to contemplate. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart?”

  Vi grinned. “Of course. Bye, now.”

  Sam left, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving the two women to stare at each other, Vi smiling, Naomi flummoxed. She knew Vi and Sam were dating, of course. But she had no idea they were so serious—if the passionate encounter and yearning gazes she’d just witnessed were any indication, anyway.

  Oblivious to her confusion, Vi moved behind the counter and began icing a three-tiered cake for the hardware store’s anniversary party. “How was the meeting?”

  “Uh . . .” Naomi shook her head. “It was cancelled, actually.”

  Vi glanced up. “Cancelled?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then where have you been all morning?”

  Was that accusation edging her voice when she was just making out with the plumber in the shop? “Well, if you must know, Eli and I missed the memo that the meeting had been cancelled, and were the only two to show up, so we discussed some things ourselves while we had the time.” She tried hard, she really did, to keep the defensiveness from her voice.

  Vi went back to icing the cake, the tip of the tube working intricately to form a little hammer and nails. “Hmmm.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” She squinted and tilted her head, pausing. “Damn. I don’t think I can get this. My eyes are just not what they used to be. I think you’ll have to finish this up.” She glanced up and held out the icing bag.

  And all of a sudden, any self-righteous anger Naomi felt fizzled. She loved this woman. She owed her every single good thing in her life.

  And she was aging right before her eyes. The thought shot an ache clear down to the marrow of her bones.

  She gently took the bag from Vi’s hand and nodded. Keeping her face downturned so Vi wouldn’t see the tears collecting, she donned her apron and got to work on the cake.

  Behind her, Vi shuffled around, messing with the display cases and the cash register tape as she tried to focus on the cake. A couple of customers came in and bought miscellaneous items and Vi chatted them up. She was so good at that.

  Naomi thought she was friendly enough, she’d worked hard on it anyway since Vi and Paul brought her here as a wounded and surly foster kid. She’d been so sure nobody would ever love her, never stick around for the long-term. But they had. They’d shown her a way of life that didn’t involve constant upheaval, yelling, hunger . . . pain. Unconsciously, her gaze drifted to her arm. She paused her work and studied it with clinical detachment now that nobody else was around. The pink, puckered skin covered a majority of her left forearm from wrist to elbow. There was no pain there anymore, not physically anyway. As a child, the stares and questions and taunts had been more torturous than the boiling water that had scalded the skin from her body.

  But, if that scalding water was what she’d had to endure to get her from the slums of Phoenix to Vi and Paul Stevens, well then, she’d long ago come to the conclusion she would’ve endured it a hundred fold.

  But, still, sometimes she’d give anything to have perfect, smooth, feminine skin. Like bathing suit season. Or when Eli ate her up with his gaze in that certain way. And she’d volunteered to get in a swimsuit . . . with Eli. Bad combo for her vanity.

  She was seriously going to have to get a grip. Just because he was being all sweet about the benefit didn’t mean she could forget he’d horned in on Vi’s love life and, more importantly, their business. She had big plans there and she wasn’t going to let someone, not even a gorgeous someone, get in the way of those plans.

  She glanced over at the magazine cover to bolster her resolve. Yes. She had a good plan. Maybe she could even come up with a spectacular new recipe to put frou-frou Frenchy baker boy next door to shame. Just because she couldn’t cook regular food like he could, didn’t mean she couldn’t put him in his place in the baking department.

  She would get on that first thing . . .

  She had work to do first and she got back to it.

  The door’s ringtone interrupted her plotting, but she couldn’t look up as she was bent over in the middle of the cake’s final layer of scalloped edging. So, she nearly did a nosedive into the buttercream icing when Vi called out, “Well, hello, Eli. What brings you by?”

  His smooth voice rolled over her skin like warm cream. “I came to see Naomi.”

  “Ah . . .” Vi’s voice moved away as she rounded the counter in Eli’s direction. “She’s just about done there. Aren’t you, sweetie?”

  Naomi swallowed and glanced up. He still looked good enough to eat in his designer duds. Faded, low-slung jeans. White button-up shirt rolled to his elbows, slate gray T-shirt underneath hugging his chest deliciously. His smiling eyes took her in, making every organ she had quiver, never mind her heart.

  She curled her toes in her Keds and nodded dumbly. Yeah. Whatever they said.

  It took every ounce of strength she had, but she finished the edging on the cake and boxed it, then carefully removed her apron, being extra careful not to muss her hair. All the while, she tried valiantly to ignore Vi and Eli’s casual chatter. What could he possibly want? She’d just left him not two hours ago.

  She moved around the counter and walked up with what she hoped wasn’t a forced smile. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” His eyes darted nervously to Vi.

  Vi clapped her hands and stepped back. “Well, I’ll leave you two and just go . . .” She hiked her thumb over her shoulder to indicate she’d be in the back.

  Naomi nodded and turned back to Eli. Was he sweating? “You okay?”

  He nodded a little too emphatically. “Sure. Sure.”

  “Here, why don’t we sit down?” She indicated one of the small wrought-iron tables for two in the corner of the bakery.

  He sank gratefully into the seat, resting his forearms on his thighs, his fingers steepled between his knees.

  She studied him for several moments while he remained silent, studying the floor. After a while, she go
t nervous and peeked down herself to make sure there weren’t any renegade dust bunnies after her morning cleaning job. That’d be bad. Nope, spotless.

  “So . . .” she prompted, staring at the top of his head.

  He finally glanced up and cleared his throat. “I was hoping that you and I . . .” His gaze darted to the door when Vi made some noise, then back to her face. “Perhaps we might share a meal? This evening?”

  Oh. “Well.”

  “To finish discussing the festival maybe, since Michael interrupted us?”

  Oh.

  “Well,” he continued, “Michael actually told me to come ask you. I said it wasn’t a good idea, but he insisted.”

  Oooooh.

  Way to make a girl feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

  She stood. “Don’t let me trouble you if you have better things to do.”

  His brows furrowed. “I have nothing to do.”

  What, no small animals to kick? Babies to pinch? “Work?”

  “Well. No, I’m off today.” He tilted his head. “So, I have nothing to do and can go to eat. With you.”

  “Really? You can go eat? With me? You’d trouble yourself that way?”

  “I—” He paused as if he suddenly sensed a landmine under his feet. “Um . . . yes?” His voice lost all conviction as he stared at her wide-eyed. He must’ve seen the change in demeanor that she felt coming over her as her blood pressure rose.

  Really. She knew men weren’t beating down her door to ask her out, but this was a new and humiliating low.

  He studied her intently with his soulful dark eyes and her heart nearly beat right out of her chest. She opened her mouth to tell him ‘No, thanks.’ To tell him where he could put his forced dinner, and all his über-delicious pastries while he was at it. To tell him she didn’t find him the teensy-eensiest bit attractive, that her body didn’t thrum with electricity whenever he was within ten feet, that he hadn’t complicated her life by a thousand-fold . . . but his words stopped her cold.