Aphrodite Needs an Alibi (Aphrodite Needs a Clue Book 1)

by Regan Claire

  “I’m no artist. Just a blacksmith,” he says, but I can tell he’s fighting back a smile at my words.

  “Let’s split the difference and say ‘craftsman’ instead.”

  He nods, “I suppose that will work. They call me Smith.” I’m glad that he doesn’t reach out a hand to shake.

  “April.”

  “How do you like the nursery?” he asks as he steps aside so I can walk out the door.

  “I love it so far. It’s unexpected. I didn’t think a place like this would be in the city,” I tell him. It’s the truth. Virginia Beach is great so far, but the part I’ve seen is very developed and this little garden shop seems out of place next to all the hotels.

  “You think so? I like to think there are tons of neat spots here. You haven’t traveled much beyond the oceanfront, have you?”

  “Well, I just moved here about a week ago, so I guess I’m still more of a tourist. I don’t know where anything is except the boardwalk.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, definitely more of a tourist. We need to change that. Do you like brunch?”

  Oh no. Was he asking me to brunch, or asking if I just like it in general?

  “We have a million brunch spots here, but the best is Bay Local. If you want to go where the locals go, then that’s the spot for brunch,” he rushes the words out. I bet he guessed my hesitation in answering, judging by the flattering blush creeping back up his neck.

  I hope I didn’t make him feel bad by not answering. “Thanks for the insider info, I can’t wait to go.” I put a little more enthusiasm into my words than I feel.

  “No problem. You’ll graduate from tourist to local before you know it.”

  I laugh. “I guess it’s only a matter of time if you keep giving me tips.”

  He’s beaming. “Of course! You try that place out this week, and next time I come in, I’ll tell you another spot.”

  The door jingles again.

  “Well, duty calls. It was nice meeting you, Smith,” I tell him before going to greet the customer who just walked in.

  “It was my pleasure,” his voice says softly.

  Throughout the rest of my day, I think about him. I can tell he’s interested in me, but he didn’t make it awkward and managed to carry on a conversation. I can see how he’d be easy company to keep. And a man who could make the type of art he made, well, there are hidden depths for sure. I’d only be trouble for someone like him.

  My shift ends before I know it. My feet hurt, I’m covered in dirt despite the apron, and I broke a nail.

  I also feel amazing. Chatting up the customers is my favorite. I made a lot of happy wives today, because Cora was right. I do have a knack for encouraging a bit more romance in a romantic gesture. That’s something I can do without using my abilities: remind people how much in love they are. Granted, it’s not something I’ve spent a lot of time on in the past. Old April was shallow and self-involved. New April got a kick out of gently reminding a gentleman that his wife of twenty years deserved something special, and I was rewarded with spending the next ten minutes with the man as he picked out the perfect blooms for a bouquet instead of just the half-dozen red roses that was his standby as he told me how he met his wife. I love love stories. Cora was even available to put the bouquet together since I don’t know how to yet.

  I get home, but I’m restless. In fact, I kind of feel like celebrating. I think I deserve it after such a successful first day.

  Besides, I can use a snack.

  Needs a Snack

  I don’t need to dress up when I go out to feed the beast; an oversized hoodie and men’s basketball shorts can’t stand in the way of getting what I need.

  Though, where’s the fun in that?

  The stilettos are a bit of overkill, but when you find a pair of Jimmy Choo’s in your size at the thrift store with no wear and a price tag in the lower double digits, you find any excuse to wear them. My Choo’s definitely made the cut when I pared down my wardrobe.

  I haven’t been in town long enough to know many places, so it’s no surprise the club I pick for the night is new to me. It’s close to the boardwalk so even when it’s not tourist season, it’s probably still busy. Which is good. I need quantity over quality these days.

  The available parking is a little further than my stilettoed feet would prefer, but we all make sacrifices. When I walk into the club, I immediately scope out the lay of the land. There’s a dance floor, and I love dancing, but things can quickly get out of hand for me so I’d rather give it a wide berth. The bar is perfect. It’s filled with men plucking up the liquid courage to ask for a dance, plus there are a few booths and at least one of them has enough male specimens to pique my interest. Or, more accurately, have their interests piqued by me.

  I take a deep breath and open myself up. Instantly, I feel a few heads turn my way, and I walk towards the side of the bar that has the highest number of bodies. It’s the far side and has the extra bonus of being closest to the booth I eyed a few seconds ago. More heads turn my way. I smile, because I can feel all the attention and it feels good. My hips sway in time with my steps. It’s my natural walk, but for now I don’t try and tone it down. I want the attention, that’s the whole point. Already I can feel tendrils of whatever it is that feeds me leaving my admirers and entering me. I feed off their attraction, their want—hell, I feed off of their lust, like a much needed snack. It nourishes me just enough to keep me from binge eating. After what happened last time, I don’t take full meals anymore. Not when the last guy wound up dead.

  The small group of men part ways as I approach, leaving the perfect amount of space for me to lean forward over the bar to grab the bartender’s attention.

  Not that he isn’t already aware of me.

  When I order my two bottles, one of water and one of beer since I don’t drink things from a cup when I’m out for a snack—it’s not safe—I’m not surprised by what I hear next. In fact, my meager bank account was counting on it.

  “Shane, put that on my tab.”

  “Thank you,” I turn to my left to thank the guy, after all, I certainly can’t afford the drinks, but my smile falters when I see who it is.

  “Uh, hi.” I try to cut loose the threads that are drifting in towards me. I don’t feed from people I might know. Not anymore. Not even snacks. “Rhys, right?”

  Gods, he is even sexier than I remember from yesterday. The black t-shirt is tight across is chest, and I get a visceral mental image of pressing myself against him.

  He smiles, and I swear I black out for a second. Men shouldn’t be this attractive

  “Rhys, won’t you leave the poor girl alone. Sweetheart, why don’t you bring those drinks over here. I promise we’re better company,” another voice, slick as oil, says from behind me.

  Rhys’ smile fades instantly, and I see danger flash through his eyes. I look over at the man speaking. It’s one of the people from the booth. He looks vaguely familiar, and gives me a total creeper vibe. His leering at me doesn’t help.

  I’ve been leered at a time or two in my life, and this guy takes the cake on creeper leers. He’s handsome in a former frat boy type of way, very clearly gets his hair highlighted, and if his tan is real then there’s a good chance that melanoma is in his future.

  “I’m actually fine,” I say.

  Another man from the table speaks up. He’s on the younger side and so good-looking it almost hurts to look at him. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Rhys?”

  I see Rhys relax a fraction. Who are these people to each other? And why in the world are they all so freaking hot?

  “April, this is Eros. April works with Informed Sight Staffing,” Rhys says. I notice he doesn’t introduce the other people at the table. I’m not the only one. The man who spoke before stands up from the table.

  “Rhys, always so rude. My name is Theo Thunderman.” He reaches out a hand and smiles, his teeth blindingly white.

  I don’t take his hand. “Uh, it’s nice to meet you
Eros. And Theo.”

  Theo takes that as an invitation to step closer to me. “Now now, don’t be shy—“

  “Lay off, Theo. She’s not interested,” Rhys says. I don’t really need him to help out, but whatever.

  “Look, I’m just trying to give her the opportunity to make a better decision this time.” He’s talking to Rhys, but his eyes are on me.

  “Oh jeez Theo. That sounded bad, even for you,” Eros says, and I like him for it. Something about him was very likable, though I question the company he keeps.

  Theo puts a hand on his heart. “You wound me,” he says to Eros. He takes a step closer to me. “At least a dance, April. You’ve clearly already met Rhys. Give me a chance to sway you my way.”

  “No offense Theo, but if I were interested in a douche, I would have stopped at the convenience store and bought one instead of coming here.”

  It takes his brain a few seconds to catch up to what I said, and when he does I can literally see his brain sputter. Eros is howling his laughter.

  “Oh, I like her.”

  “Shut up, Eros. Rhys is a bad habit, April.” Theo doesn’t move from in front of me, and his tone has switched from seduction to warning. I don’t like the look in his eyes. I turn to Rhys, who looks pretty mirthful, grab him by the hand, and shove my purse against Eros’s chest.

  “Hold my purse, I apparently have a bad habit to form,” I tell him before dragging Rhys onto the dance floor. As far as exits go, it’s not my best, but I’m pissed. I do not like men trying to tell me what to do. He is so very lucky I’m trying to be a better person, because I could make him eat out of the palm of my hand if I wanted to. Literally. I can really make him do that, and it is incredibly tempting whenever I meet a walking penis like him.

  I make it to the middle of the dance floor when I realize I’ve dragged Rhys the entire way. My mad cools down at the thought, and I second-guess my decision. I miss dancing. It’s a way to get up close and touchy without any sort of… commitment. But it is hard for me to do something so innately sensual as dancing is without using my abilities, and Rhys is already too tempting. What if I lose control and…

  I can still feel the eyes of Theo Thunderdouche on me, and that means I have to dance out of spite, which is always the best reason to do anything. I turn around, hook my arms around Rhys’ neck, and start swaying my hips to the music. He closes the distance between the two of us, puts one hand on my hip, and leans into me.

  It feels good to have him so close. I can’t help it, I open up just the tiniest bit and drink up the attraction I know he’s feeling for me. Just a sip.

  It’s delicious.

  He leans in close enough that his breath is warm against my ear.

  “What brings you here tonight, April?”

  I look up at him, and because he hasn’t moved back after he spoke, my lips are mere inches away from his. It would be too easy to close that distance.

  “I started a new job today and feel like celebrating,” I tell him. I don’t even have to lie.

  “Congratulations. To think I almost didn’t come here tonight,” he glances back at the bar, and I assume at the people we left there.

  “How about you? Is this one of your regular spots?” It doesn’t look like his vibe.

  “No, this scene is more Theo’s thing. I try to avoid this place,” he says with a fair amount of judgement in his voice.

  “What brought you here tonight, then?”

  He shrugs. “Honestly? Work.”

  “I thought you said you were a bounty hunter.”

  “I am. Well, technically I’m the bondsman, but it’s more fun doing the bounty side of things. You see that guy over there? The one currently getting yelled at by the brunette over in the corner?” He nods his head in a direction behind me.

  I turn my head to look.

  “Don’t look!”

  “But you told me to look.”

  “Don’t make it so obvious. Here.” He spins me so that my back is pressed against him, then leans down enough that his cheek is next to my ear. “See, over there?”

  I’m distracted by the feel of my body against his. He’s pushing against me harder than is decent, but I don’t move away.

  “Do you see them yet?”

  “Oh,” I finally pay attention to his words. “Uh, yeah. I do.”

  “Well, Mick there skipped bail last week. He’s been difficult to get alone, so when I followed his girlfriend here, I hoped he’d show up and she’d keep him distracted when they left, but it looks like she just found out the circumstances surrounding his arrest.”

  “What circumstances were those?” I ask, more for an excuse to lean my face against his.

  “He had another girl’s mouth around… well, let’s just say he was with another woman. The girlfriend obviously didn’t know when she bailed him out, and he’s known around town as a skirt chaser, if you will. His girlfriend over there, Charlotte, also has a temper and the rap sheet to prove it.”

  To prove his point, the woman smacks the guy in the face and storms away.

  “Ouch.”

  “No kidding. This was my easiest option to grab him without making a huge scene, and I’m out some money if he doesn’t have cuffs on him by morning.”

  We keep dancing, Rhys’s warm breath on my neck sends shivers down my spine. I close my eyes and luxuriate in the feeling for a moment. It’s electrical. I need to stop before I get carried away. My eyes open and I start searching for the guy Rhys is trying to nab. We’ve turned on the dance floor, but even without facing him directly, he’s easy to spot. It looks like he’s over his ex since he is now talking up a couple of girls. They’re not feeling it though. I don’t know how I know, but I do. I always do. The guy is being obvious about his interest, the way he keeps leaning in, and the girl he seems most interested in looks like she reciprocates. But she doesn’t. She’s probably just trying to get a free drink.

  “Ah, looks like my plan might still work out,” Rhys says, noticing the same interaction I did.

  “Not with that girl, it won’t.” I turn around to face him. His lips keep tickling my ear every time he talks to me, and I simply can’t put myself through that anymore. It’s like dangling a steak in front of a starving man, or a carb in front of someone doing Keto. Potato, Potahto.

  “Do you see something I don’t?”

  “We’re both about to see her shoot him down as soon as that cocktail server arrives with a new drink.”

  He gives me a considering look, and a sly expression crosses his face. “What I need is a girl who will lead him outside for me who won’t get in the way when I make my move.” He doesn’t question my instinct on the situation, which is refreshing. Part of what makes it difficult to resist ensnaring men is when they second-guess, correct, or mansplain every single thing in your life. It’s a lot easier just to make them adore you, even if they do occasionally drool if you hit ’em too hard with the good stuff.

  “Yeah, but where are you going to find one of those? I don’t think he’ll do anything but strike out tonight. Half of these women saw him get smacked in the face, and the other half are way out of his league.”

  Just then, the girl, fresh drink in hand, walks away with a couple of her girlfriends. The guy follows them and it’s hard to tell if he has figured out he just got blown off or not.

  “Maybe I can pay someone to do it for me.”

  Hah! Where will he find someone dumb enough for that?

  Wait. I’m a someone. Someone who really needs the money for a couch, to be specific.

  “How much are you talking?” I try not to sound too interested. I don’t know why.

  “Are you volunteering for the job?” he asks.

  “That depends. You didn’t tell me how much you’ll pay yet.”

  He pulls me closer. “How much do you want?”

  “Two hundred,” I say before thinking. No way he’s going to agree. That’s an absurd number. Two hundred dollars just to lead a horny guy outside? He
’s going to laugh in my face and find some chick who’ll do it for fifty bucks.

  “Deal. Just head to the back row of the parking lot—I’ll find you.” Then he leans over, gives me a firm, yet quick, smooch right on the lips, then leaves. Just like that.

  I’m left standing on the middle of the dance floor for a few seconds while my brain tries to catch up.

  Whoo! What a sucker! Okay, where is Dude so I can lure him outside so he can go back to jail and I can get paid entirely too much money? Two hundy for about ten minutes’ worth of work. What other job pays that well for so little time? Well, prostitution, but even I have a line somewhere.

  Although, this guy is a criminal, and Rhys didn’t exactly tell me what type. What if he’s out on bail for murdering someone? Do they let murderers out on bail? I look around to see if I can find where Rhys went, but shake myself before I succeed. No, I won’t lose my nerve. If it were dangerous, he wouldn’t agree to letting me do this.

  I hope.

  My eyes sweep the general area where Mick was before, but I don’t see him. Where would a guy who’s looking to score wind up after being shot down a few times?

  “Well, don’t you look tasty enough to eat.”

  Gross. He winds up on the dance floor, putting the disgusting moves on the only girl without a partner. I plaster a smile on my face before turning around.

  “Only for someone with a big appetite,” I tell him, impressed I didn’t puke in my mouth a little.

  “That’s me, sweetheart. How about I buy you a drink,” he asks in what I assume is meant to be a suggestive voice.

  I ignore his offer. “You know, I’ve been watching you.” I look him up and down. Technically, he’s not terrible looking. But still. Ick.

  “Have you?” he asks, chest puffing up.

  “Yeah. I wanted to come up and introduce myself after I saw how that girl treated you earlier.” I reach a hand up and touch his cheek where he was smacked. “But I lost my nerve. I’m glad you came to me instead.”

  “You saw that, huh?” He deflates back to his original size, either from embarrassment or shame.

  I bite my lip and nod. “I saw a really stupid woman do a really stupid thing. I know I would never treat a guy like you that way.” Am I laying it on too thick? I’m trying to do this thing organically instead of forcing my hand, but the words coming out of my mouth sound like the lead-up to a really bad soft-core porno.