by Anya Nowlan
BUCK ME… FOR VALENTINE’S
FROST BROTHERS’ BRIDES
BY
ANYA NOWLAN
A LITTLE TASTE…
“My artisanal bakery only makes bread from pumpkin seeds!”
“I don’t think anyone has a better vision for the future than Trump!”
“Oh, yes, I intend to have my first baby in about nine months from Valentine’s Day!”
The list of inane answers to even dumber questions that Cupid forced himself to ask was starting to grate at him so badly that by the time he came to sit down at table twenty-seven, he had lost every modicum of hope for mankind, women, relationships, or happiness. Not that he’d come in there with much of any of the aforementioned, but it was painful nonetheless.
“Come here often?” she asked, her tone dry and deadpan, beating Cupid to the question.
He perked up immediately, finally looking up at who he was talking to now instead of at his score card, woefully empty as it was. The ding of the bell was still ringing in his ears as the other couples around them started buzzing with strained conversation and Cupid just sort of… stared.
She was a vision.
Dark skin that made him think of a delicious cup of coffee with cream, soulful gray eyes, and a crown of hair that seemed to be more of a halo of black curls than anything else, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She had dimples and a small nose and her brows were arched in the most delectable, slightly amused fashion. It took a whole lot of work not to lean over the table, put both hands on her cheeks and just kiss her until they both ran out of air.
Holy hell, man! What’s wrong with you?!
Copyright © 2016 Anya Nowlan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Buck Me… For Valentine’s
Frost Brothers’ Brides
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be used, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use. This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Anya Nowlan. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Cover © Jack of Covers
You can find all of my books here:
Amazon Author Page
www.anyanowlan.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS
A LITTLE TASTE…
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
Cupid
“You’re treating this like a death sentence,” Pran said, leaning back in the co-pilot’s seat as the New York skyline slowly came into view.
Cupid’s brows were knitted together as he stared at the controls with no joy evident in his features, his expression tight, controlled, and annoyed.
“Sure, and you think Nick didn’t do this to piss me off? He knows I hate the Day That Shall Not Be Named,” Cupid said with a growl, easing up on the throttle as they went in for the long approach.
Big Red Seven was one of the biggest airplanes in the world. In fact, there were only eight others like it, each one flown by one of the nine Frost brothers, and Big Red Seven was currently coming in fast and low on New York City. The man at the controls was another giant of a sort—tall and wide-shouldered and built to withstand anything—but currently his broad shoulders were hunched forward and his pleasant, handsome face contorted in a mask of annoyance.
Cupid Frost was a man of many talents—impeccable timing and a steady hand in navigating even the worst turbulence among them—but being calm, cordial, and gathered when something made his skin crawl definitely wasn’t in that list. He quirked his nose slightly, listening to the familiar words coming from air traffic control in the headset speakers as he maneuvered the large plane toward JFK International Airport.
“You mean Valentine’s Day?” Pran asked with a shit-eating grin that asked to be wiped off his face.
“The Day That Shall Not Be Named,” Cupid sighed, tossing his brother a glare that could have leveled cities and sent men and women alike running for the hills.
Or at least it would have if there was any fairness in the world. Considering that it was three days to Valentine’s Day and Cupid was finishing up his last mission, with a two week vacation following straight after, it was obvious that the concept of fair was completely lost on the universe as far as Cupid was concerned.
“You’re being a real drama queen about it,” Pran muttered, sliding his phone out of his pocket with a slight shake of his head. “It’s not like the day is cursed or anything. And not working for a while will do you good. We’ve got six birds in the air for the holiday and the rest of the Frost clan is happily working themselves to the bone. You and I need to live it up for all of them!”
Cupid couldn’t help it. He picked up an empty coffee cup, the remnants of the tar-like substance he seemed to consider coffee long since dried up, and whacked it in the general direction of Pran’s head. The world seemed to get a few tones gloomier when it failed to hit, Pran dodging with all the speed of a well-trained athlete. Which of course he was, which was even more annoying.
“I don’t enjoy vacations. Especially not now, not in this spirits forsaken city. Who wants to be in New York City during the D—”
“Valentine’s Day? Most singles in the world, I’d imagine,” Pran commented wryly, picking up the fallen coffee cup and depositing it in a trash can screwed down on the floor of the spacious cockpit. “I know I do,” he said, flicking through his phone.
“That makes one of us, then,” Cupid snorted, squinting his eyes as he adjusted course and got on the approach vector assigned to Big Red Seven.
There were very few people in existence who knew this, but the Frost family company, Elevated Logistics by Frost, was the premiere shipping and handling firm in the world. They were best known for the fact that they were the people behind Christmas, obviously, with Nick Frost essentially running that show, but the rest of the high-volume holidays got a fair share of Frost family magic as well. Valentine’s Day, Thanksgiving, even the Fourth of July, curiously enough, were all times when the skies were lit up by Big Reds and the shifter pilots that handled them.
And this time, Cupid was going to be forced down on the ground instead of up in the air where he belonged, having to partake in the general “joy” of the whole charade instead of getting to scoff at it from above the clouds.
I bet it’s because I beat Nick in poker last week… or maybe it was because of that chick I stole from Ru in Indianapolis…
Cupid pursed his lips slightly, a ponderous look hanging to him for a moment as he had put the plane on the right course once more. He was awarded for it with more discomfort and the realization that he would soon have to make a show of having fun on his vacation. Blergh.
“What are you doing, Pran?” Cupid asked, turning in his seat to catch his brother flicking through something on his big smartphone.
“SassyDate,” P
ran said with a grin, holding up the phone for a moment so Cupid could see an app made up in whites and reds in the spirit of Valentine’s Day.
It almost made him gag.
“You looking to land yourself a girlfriend in the next few weeks?” Cupid asked with a smirk, easing himself back into the seat and flicking his eyes over the instruments to make sure everything was all right.
It was. It always was, in fact. The Big Reds were kept in tip-top shape. They had to be, because the damn things were so big that if anything went wrong and the airplane ever needed to make an emergency landing instead of its usual controlled one, they could end up leveling most modern airports. No one had airstrips long enough to slow down something that was essentially the size of a football field.
“Can’t hurt to try. Lonely hearts, gathering together, searching for love in all the wrong places,” Pran rattled off, giving Cupid a misty-eyed look that was all lies and deceit, his devilish grin glimmering behind it.
“Riiight. As long as you keep that shit away from me, we’ll be fine,” Cupid snorted.
“Hey, it worked out for Blitz and Dash, didn’t it? You’d never imagine Blitz to be the first guy out of us to get married, and here we are…” Pran said with a shrug, quirking a brow.
“Sounds like you’re getting old, man,” Cupid retorted, wondering if the discarded coffee cup would soon come flying toward his head instead. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Where’s your will to live free and wild!?”
“Adventure?” Pran asked, sounding slightly incredulous. “You mean to ask a guy who has literally been in every single place in the world, and seen just about everything imaginable where his sense of adventure is? I think Nick made the right choice by putting you on the bench for this one, Cupid. You obviously need to reflect a bit on that head injury you seem to be sporting!”
“Yeah, well, you know what I mean, smartass. It’s one thing to be doing this work when you have nothing to tie you down, and it’s a whole other matter entirely when you’re married and about to have kids. Who do you think is going to have to pick up all the slack Dash and Blitz will leave behind? You know it’s going to be us. I’d rather not see you join the ranks of the useless and the dreary too, brother dearest.”
“And by useless and dreary I’m sure you mean happy and satisfied, right? I’ve never seen either of them as happy as they are now with their mates,” Pran said, and Cupid could feel the burn of a question in the man’s gaze.
If he wants me to admit that I’m unhappy, it’s not going to happen, he thought darkly, with JFK now looming below them.
As usual, Big Red Seven had the farthest spot from the passenger terminals, a nearly forgotten stretch of runway that ended with a fence. Fortunately for the pilot of the monstrously large airplane, he didn’t need any tarmac at all to properly touch down.
As if by sheer force of will, the forward momentum seemed to be dissipating and lowering until Big Red seemed to hover in one spot, the engines tipping downward in a ninety degree angle to face the ground below. Slowly and gracefully, or at least as gracefully as could be imagined for something that weighed about as much as the Empire State Building, the garish red plane touched down, scarcely disturbing a blade of grass below it.
“I bet they just don’t know what they’re missing,” Cupid said with a small hint of bitterness in his voice, after letting air traffic control know that they’d set down and the crew could be sent up to the plane.
“Oh, I think they know exactly what they’re missing, and you and I are the chumps who think we’ve got it made,” Pran said, unhooking his seatbelt and sliding out of the seat. “But you’ve got to promise me not to wallow for the next two weeks and actually try to have fun, all right? Tell you what. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow and we’ll hit up this event I heard about. You’ll love it, I’m sure.”
“What kind of event?” Cupid asked dubiously, standing up and rolling his shoulders back as he watched the massive convoy of vehicles heading toward Big Red.
The airplane needed to be covered with a tarp to conceal it, and its massive, seemingly endless cargo holds emptied out so all the happy couples and romantic fools could get their candies and teddy bears with big red hearts and roses delivered to them in time. All of it made Cupid gag, if he had to be perfectly honest.
“You’ll see,” Pran said with a chuckle, unlocking the door and stepping out into the long hallway that would take him to the holds where he could assist with the offloading and checking of the manifest.
“You should know I don’t like surprises!” Cupid called after him, shutting off the engines one by one.
“You should know I don’t give a crap, brother!”
Of course he doesn’t, Cupid thought with a grin and a shake of his head.
Whatever he could say about the Frost family, at least they always had fun. Even if it was at the expense of one another.
CHAPTER TWO
Zaria
“I hate it already,” Zaria Swann said, digging her heels into the ground and stopping dead in her tracks as her friend Brittany attempted to drag her in through the door.
“You’ll love it, I’m telling you!” Brittany said with an exasperated sigh, tugging her by the arm, her long acrylic nails digging into Zaria’s arm through her black sweater.
“It looks like a high school prom came in here and vomited on the place!” Zaria protested, her gray eyes shining with every manner of woeful annoyance she could muster.
“It looks cute!” Brittany all but snarled, changing her tactic and taking Zaria by the shoulders, practically shoving her into the room. “Now stop complaining and let’s go get our nametags so we can blend in and mingle for God’s sake!”
Try as she might, Zaria knew her friend far too well. Short of running away into the cold New York February air, probably having to leave her coat behind so Brittany wouldn’t catch up, Zaria was all out of options.
I knew I shouldn’t have said yes to one of her “fun” activities, she thought, feeling mighty down on herself that particular day.
“It still looks like a bad kid’s party, though,” Zaria grumbled as she let Brittany lead her to the table with the bubbly-looking blonde with big glasses and a toothy smile, who seemed to revel in the opportunity of giving people stickers and Sharpies to write down their assigned number and stick it on their shirt.
Brittany filled out her own and Zaria’s for her, slapping the thing on her chest and tugging her sweater down a bit in the process.
“Hey!” Zaria protested, moving to correct it since Brittany had pulled her top down low enough that her cleavage was showing more than she would have preferred.
“Hey nothing. Put those puppies out on display. Do you want to get a hot date out of this or not?!” Brittany asked, flailing her arms as she pointed to the big banners above their heads that were surrounded by pink and red heart cutouts and balloons in the shapes of hearts, and bowls of candy in the shape of hearts, and… well, you get the point.
One of the banners read: SassyDate’s Sinful Speed-Dating for Valentine’s! Find Your Love Match In 2 Minutes! Her stomach lurched at the sight of it. When she’d spotted it outside after they’d gotten off the subway, Zaria had held out hope that maybe her friend was just taking her to a nice new coffee place, or a bar known for serving only large quantities of tequila in which to drown her sorrows. No such luck, apparently.
“I really don’t,” Zaria said, her gray eyes filling with all the incredulous surprise she could manage. “Why would you think I would?” she asked, her high heels clinking over the floors as Brittany took her by the hand and led her into the throng of chatting people.
New York City was known for being a town of singles. It seemed every one of them were either too rich, too alternative, or too bitter to find someone they could be truly happy with. As far as Zaria could tell, she fell into the latter category.
Tall, curvy, and with caramel skin that caught the eye of more than one man, Zaria had all the confidence n
ecessary for big city dating. Though she was no longer twenty-two, giggly and perky, she knew she had a worth that some of these younger girls did not, a certain level of wisdom and self-confidence that came with experience and by getting burned enough times.
But tonight, she didn’t feel particularly sexy, nor confident. And the simpering faces of countless hopeful speed-daters around her didn’t make it any better. Brittany thrust a complimentary flute of champagne into her hands and Zaria kicked it back in one gulp, setting the glass down and taking another.
“That’s the spirit!” Brittany cheered, her clever eyes glancing around and seizing up the competition, as well as the goods. “Looks like there’s at least plenty of guys this time. I know the girl who runs this thing, Amber, and she pulled out all the stops for this one! Find love for Valentine’s! I think it’ll be ah-mazing!”
“I can’t say I share your enthusiasm,” Zaria said dully, sipping at the second glass in a more reserved manner.
“You need to get over him, you know. Find someone new, someone better!” Brittany said idly, far too easily catching on to Zaria’s reason for having a bad mood.
“Get over him? Oh yeah, sure. Because that is my problem. Not the fact that Brad’s been stalking me for the past few weeks. I remind you that I dumped him, not the other way around,” Zaria said, her brows knitting in a frown at the mention of her Wall Street ex, the uber-smarmy and completely infuriating Brad Walken.
“You only did it because of… well, you know why,” Brittany commented, giving her a pointed look that made Zaria tuck back her messy, wild curls of dark hair to give herself something to do other than inhale alcohol and concede defeat.
“Say it,” she quipped.
“Because it’s Valentine’s Day and apparently it’s cursed,” Brittany said with a roll of her sky-blue eyes.
