“No!” the brothers chorused.
Zeb patted her hand. “It’s better that you stick with one of us, darling. They’re having some big cycling event from downtown to the waterfront today, which means there’ll be throngs of people and you could easily get lost. Besides, you’re far too delicious to let loose on the streets of Portland alone.” He winked.
“Zeb’s right, honey. You just stick with me.” Dake drew his cell phone from his pocket, checking the time on the digital display. “We can check in every thirty minutes by phone to monitor our progress.”
“Sounds good,” Zeb agreed. “Just remember that if you find Cupid first, you need to call me immediately before you let Lula go to him so I can be there to give her a great big goodbye hug.”
“Yeah…sure…” And Dake realized at that moment he hoped Lula would never find Cupid or her classmates.
Chapter Eight
“Cupid?” the spacey-looking guy with the pink-tipped purple hair said. “Oh yeah…like I think I just saw him a couple of minutes ago. Wow…he was like buzzing all around my head with his bow and arrow. Zip, zap, boing.”
The young man of indeterminate age gestured dramatically with his hands, the row of silver studs or snaps or whatever the hell they were along his forearm catching Dake’s attention as they glinted in the sunlight. “Like just zooming around, you know?”
Lula nodded. “Did he share the location of his headquarters with you?” she asked eagerly, obviously taking the guy seriously.
“Yeah…I think he did.” He bent down, giving Dake far more of a bird’s-eye view than he wanted as the guy’s shimmery chartreuse skin-tight cropped pants molded his ass.
Pointing at a spot where the building’s brick met the sidewalk, the guy said, “He was like staying in a little mousehole with tiny furniture somewhere in here. Whoa!” he slapped his head, a deep, ponderous look crossing his multi-pierced features. “Wait a minute…maybe that was just a dream. No, no, there he is. See him?” He grabbed at the air around his head. “He just flew by.”
“Oh…” Realization finally setting in, Lula’s shoulders sagged and Dake ached at her disappointed expression. “Thank you,” she said, reaching into the paper bag and digging out the last bread roll and butter pat. “This is for you. Please take care of yourself.”
“Cool. Thanks.” He unwrapped the butter, popped it in his mouth and swallowed. Then he clamped his teeth on the roll, devouring it as if he hadn’t eaten in a week.
“What a nice young man,” Lula said as they headed down the street. “Perhaps a little bit addled,” she tapped her temple, “but very personable.”
“Right,” Dake said just as his cell phone rang. “Nope, no luck,” he reported at Zeb’s inquiry. “You neither, huh?” He couldn’t help feeling guilty being so glad Lula hadn’t found Cupid yet. “Okay, how about dinner? I’m starving and poor little Lula’s just dragging her feet. She must be beat after all the walking we did. Thai? Sure, sounds good to me.” He turned to Lula. “Is Thai food okay with you?”
“It will be a new experience,” she answered with an affirmative nod. “I have yet to find a cuisine I do not enjoy. I take pleasure in trying new foods much the same as I enjoy discovering new sexual positions with you, Dake.”
Damn. There went his cock again. He was getting tired of walking around the city with an unrelenting hard-on. “Meet you at Bangkok Crossing, Zeb. We should be there in about five minutes.” He flipped the phone closed. “I’m sorry you didn’t have any luck finding Cupid today, Lula,” he lied. “Maybe you’ll have better luck tomorrow.”
“I do hope so, Dake. I’m missing out on all the valuable lessons Cupid is teaching. I’ll never be able to catch up with the rest of the class now.”
“Sure you will.” Dake draped his arm around her shoulder, giving Lula a buddy hug. “But in the meantime, we’ll do our best to discover as many new sexual positions as possible, okay?” He gave her his best devilish grin.
“Oh yes, Dake,” she said, wrapping her hands around his biceps and leaning close as they walked. “That will make me feel much better indeed. Will you be accompanying me tomorrow again?”
An image of the wide-eyed innocent Lula, who thought she had street smarts, scampering about town with her perky little body and asking strange men if they knew where to find Cupid sent an alarming jolt through Dake’s system.
“Yes,” he told her, his mind racing as he mentally tried to sort out his appointments and responsibilities over the next couple of days. Dammit, he was the owner of the business, after all, so what better time to learn to let go and delegate? He had a good, dedicated crew of electricians working for him, each of them capable of handling the various jobs on the docket. All it would take is a few calls.
“What has made you laugh?” Lula said, smiling up at him.
“I was just thinking about the reaction of my crew when I tell them I’m taking a few days off.” Dake chuckled again. “They’ll never believe it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m sort of a workaholic,” Dake explained. “No days off, no vacations. I just really get into my work, I guess.”
“You enjoy your work then? That’s a very good thing. What is it that you do?”
“Yeah, I like it.” Dake shrugged. “I’m an electrical contractor. That means I provide customers with the electrical systems they need for their homes or businesses. It’s a good way to make a living. Besides, there’s never really been any reason to take time off.”
“Until me,” Lula noted, worrying her bottom lip.
Dake watched her nibble and then drag the pouty lip between her teeth. Why? Why the hell did such a simple, innocuous act make him so goddamned hot? So ready to slap her up against the brick wall, spread her legs and drive his cock into her? Even the most ordinary, mundane things about Lula were a turn-on, for chrissakes.
“I would feel bad taking you away from your important electrical work, Dake. And I don’t want to take Zebulon away from his flower shop tomorrow either. You have both been so very good to me and I don’t want to disrupt your lives any more than I already have.”
“Too late. You’ve already turned my life upside down, Lula,” Dake admitted with a chuckle. “But only in the best possible way.” He bent to give her a quick kiss. “Believe me, there’s nothing I’d rather do than spend the day with you tomorrow and the day after.”
“Will you be with me both nights too?” She leaned against him closer. “So we can wake up in each other’s arms again?”
Dake felt her fingers sinking into his flesh as she leaned her head on his arm. Red flag. The chick was getting attached. Sure, he’d make it a point to get a couple of quickies in, but stay with her all night again? Uh-uh. No way. Not smart. That smacked too much of being a one-gal kind of guy, which he most certainly wasn’t.
After all, what if Lula never found Cupid and got stuck here forever? He couldn’t have her thinking they were a permanent item—that he had any intention of getting a ring stuck through his nose. No, after a quickie or two, he’d be on his way. She could stay by herself in Zeb’s apartment overnight while Dake bunked with his brother or maybe at a hotel.
He opened his mouth to answer Lula, looking down at her at the same instant she gazed up into his eyes and smiled. “Yeah,” he heard himself say, astounded he hadn’t choked on the word. “Yes, we’ll spend the next two nights together.”
“Oh, you make me so happy, Dake.”
Well, there you have it. He’d lost it. No doubt about it. His brain had taken a hike and his dick was doing all his thinking and talking for him. What the hell did he think he was doing, committing himself to Lula like that? It was like he had some torrid fever smoldering away at his insides—and Lula was it.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Lula said, inclining her head toward the curb.
“I didn’t say anything,” Dake answered, hoping that reading minds wasn’t among a nymph’s skills.
“Not you,” Lula told him, patti
ng his arm. “I was talking to the flowers.”
“To the…” Stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets, Dake shrugged. “Oh sure. Of course. I do it all the time myself.” He watched Lula squat, addressing the colorful array of flowers planted in the grassy area between the sidewalk and curb.
“Really?” she said to the blossoms. “Oh you poor dears. Don’t worry, I’ll get you some right now.” Getting to her feet again, Lula gazed at Dake, all pink-cheeked and clearly incensed. It was the first time he’d seen that particular look in her eyes.
“Oh, this makes me so angry,” she whispered to him before peering at the storefront, cocking her head as she read the sign. “What is a sports bar?” she asked.
“It’s like a tavern where they serve lots of beer and play sports on big TV screens. Something tells me you’re not asking because you feel like a beer.”
“No, but I believe they will have what is needed,” Lula said, moving past Dake, opening the bar’s door and entering the establishment with a purposeful strut that said she was ready to rumble.
Belting out a resigned sigh, Dake followed after her, only to hear the interior erupt in wolf whistles and animated conversation as the curvaceous nymph approached the bar.
“Well…” the bartender mused in a singsong voice, giving Lula the once-over and a slick smile. “What can I get for you, little lady?” The guy was buff and nice-looking and Dake wasn’t too happy with the way he was ogling his nymph—especially the way the guy’s eyes seemed to be glued to Lula’s breasts.
“Water, please,” Lula said. “Enough for thorough saturation.”
“Spring or sparkling?” the bartender asked, plucking two clear plastic bottles from a refrigerated area and plopping them on the counter in front of her.
Lula touched each bottle and frowned. “Spring. But it must not be cold. Cold water shocks the system.”
“Lemme see what I got.” The bartender squatted down, looking through his behind-the-bar inventory and came up with two bottles of room temperature water. “One for each of you?” he said, acknowledging Dake’s presence for the first time.
“This won’t be enough,” Lula said with assurance. “They’ll need much more. At least a full pail. They’re terribly thirsty. In fact, some of them are close to death.”
“Death? What? Who?” the bartender asked, glancing around to see if he’d missed someone who came in with them. “Lady, what are you talking about?”
“The flowers.”
The guy shifted his skewed glance to Dake who threw up his hands in a don’t-ask-me gesture.
“What flowers?” the guy asked, looking totally perplexed.
Chin elevated, Lula asked, “Are you the owner of this sports bar?”
“Yeah, but—”
One fist balled against her hip while she pointed outside with her other hand, she went on, “And are those sweet, beautiful flowers out there not in your care?”
Damn, she looked good when she was righteous and fuming. Hot and sassy and sexy as hell.
“Yeah, but—”
“Can’t you see they are in desperate need of water? They said it’s been unseasonably dry of late. And they told me you never take care of them,” Lula complained.
By this time, most eyes in the place were on the bartender, who looked none to happy about it. “Told you?” the guy said, slanting her a look that telegraphed he thought she was crazy. “Hey,” he asked Dake, while making a swirly motion at his temple, “has your girlfriend got a few screws loose or something?”
“All of my screws are firmly in place,” Lula bristled. Standing shoulders back and ramrod straight, her breasts strained against the black silk of her tank top, drawing the attention of every damn guy in the place. The bra she wore did little to conceal the rigid little buttons of her nipples. “I am well versed in botany. I was schooled at the academy on Olympus and count many flowers among my friends.”
Oh yeah, Dake knew damn well Lula sounded nutty all right, but all of a sudden he found himself caught up in an unfamiliar protective sort of mode. He didn’t like the fact that this guy was insulting his nymph.
“I wouldn’t mess with her,” Dake warned just as the guy opened his mouth, no doubt to remark about Lula’s Olympus comment—and just maybe the part about having flowers as part of her social circle. “She’s the city’s OFC.”
The bartender scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “Official Flower Caretaker,” Dake explained, without a clue as to where in the hell that had come from. “She’s been issuing citations all day,” he continued. “At two hundred bucks a pop.”
“For not watering flowers?” the bartender practically squeaked.
“Yup.”
“No shit.” The bartender glanced from Dake to Lula. “Hey, I was just about to go out and water them before you came in,” he told her, filling a large pitcher with tap water.
“Is the water in the bottles of a better quality?” Lula asked. “Because if it is, then I want you to use that instead. It is the least you can do after neglecting and mistreating those blooms and their fragile root systems.”
Holding his hands up in surrender, the bartender assured, “No problem.” He called to his assistant, telling him to watch the bar while he watered the flowers. The assistant snickered and the bartender shot him a narrow-eyed look that squelched the snicker in midstream.
“See that you keep it up,” Dake said, holding the door open for the guy whose arms were full of bottled water. “The OFC will be making regular rounds.”
“Will do, buddy.”
“You’re very welcome,” Lula said to the flowers after they’d been watered. “He promised to be much kinder to you from now on.”
As they headed down the street, she wrapped her arms around Dake’s midsection. “Thank you, Dake. I am so proud of the way you put that flower abuser in his place with your warning. Does Portland actually have an Official Flower Caretaker? If it doesn’t, perhaps you should suggest the development of such an important position to the city’s officials.”
Dake swallowed a chuckle. He could just imagine the reception he’d get with that suggestion. Of course, in green-friendly Portland, it just might fly. “I’ll certainly look into it,” he told Lula, who gave him a bright, satisfied smile. “So you can really communicate with flowers, huh?”
“Of course, Dake. I’m a nymph,” she said, as if that explained it all. And Dake guessed that it did, actually.
Not only was she sexy beyond words, she was also caring, bighearted and unafraid to stand up for her beliefs. With her environmentalist tree-hugger spirit, she’d fit right in with Portland’s ecologically concerned population.
“So how do they feel about being picked?” Dake asked, imagining flowers with expressive horror-stricken cartoon-like faces screaming Help me, help meeeee! in itty-bitty voices as eager, plucking fingers approached them.
“They consider it an honor,” Lula explained. “Providing pleasure and happiness through their beauty, fragrance and delicate taste is their primary purpose—their life’s mission, so to speak. Unlike a withering death from lack of water or sunlight, being picked and admired at their peak brings flowers great joy and a sense of fulfillment.”
“I’ll never think of picking daisies in quite the same way again,” Dake said, snaking his arm around her waist and slipping his hand into the back pocket of her jeans. She let out a delighted squeal when he grabbed a handful of plump ass and squeezed.
The fact that he’d never before found himself turned on by a flower activist didn’t stop Dake’s cock from swelling. She sure as hell didn’t look like any Earth Mother types he’d ever encountered. Nope, his beautiful, sensuous nymph was a fascinating anomaly. Like no other woman he’d ever known.
Damn, he really had to stop from thinking of Lula as his nymph. That kind of foreign thinking had thoughts of commitment and relationships skittering across his mind, which would never do. Dake worked to force the alien ideas from his brain as they headed for the restaurant.<
br />
A moment later, he yanked open the door when they reached Bangkok Crossing, stepping aside for Lula to enter. She gave an enthusiastic wave when she spotted Zeb sitting at one of the tables, waiting for them. Yeah, maybe what Dake needed was to burn all those cloying commitment-related thoughts about Lula being so soft and sweet and juicy and sexy out of his brain with some spicy hot Thai food.
“That was an awfully long five minutes,” Zeb complained. “Where were you—or shouldn’t I ask?” He snickered.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, bro,” Dake said. “It just so happens we got involved in a serious case of flower abuse along the way.”
Zeb’s eyebrows shot up with interest.
“Oh Zebulon, your heart would break if you could have seen those poor, neglected little posies.” Lula’s expression was full of compassion.
“Lula gave the owner of Packy’s Sports Bar what for, didn’t you, honey?”
Lula nodded. “Yes, with Dake’s help, the situation has been rectified.”
“With Dakin’s help, hmm? Well, I am impressed. You’re clearly a good influence on my brother, Lula.”
Dake frowned. Yeah…too good.
Halfway through the meal, with frightening thoughts of rings through the nose prominent in his thoughts, Dake blotted the blinding sweat from his face for the umpteenth time. He’d asked for the Gaeng Ped Dang hot and he sure as hell got it that way. His mouth was so on fire, he could barely distinguish between the sweet basil leaves, Thai eggplants, bamboo shoots, bell peppers or pork swimming in the red curry sauce.
Water only made it worse. Rice appeased the burn somewhat and the Thai beer felt like liquid fire going down his gullet.
“Since when did you become such a fan of hot and spicy, Dakin?” Zeb asked, swallowing a mouthful of Pad Thai noodles. Dake’s glance slid over to Lula for just the briefest instant, but it was long enough for Zeb to figure out what was going on. Zeb held up his hand. “I withdraw the question,” he said, snickering and clearly enjoying Dake’s torment.
Lula murmured her pleasure at the peanutty sweetness of her Panang curry with chicken. “Mmmm, such exquisite cuisine,” she said, helping herself to another forkful of Zeb’s noodles at his urging. “Both strong and delicate with floral undertones, a fine nuance of herbs and spices. I wish I could stay here in Portland long enough to try every dish on the menu.”
Finding Cupid Page 11
