redeeming cupid 01 - struck by eros Read Free Page B

I dropped the book in my lap. “What a crock of crap.” If finding the love of your life were so simple, Grayson and I would be leading ordinary lives far away from each another, instead of providing divine intervention for wayward soul mates.
    Twenty minutes later, Grayson jogged back, snatched a towel, and wiped away the coat of sweat that covered his perfectly chiseled abs. I couldn’t help but notice the way his black board shorts showed off his Apollo’s belt, that lovely little “V” indent by his pelvic bone. Just because I didn’t want to spend eternity with him didn’t mean I couldn’t admire the spectacular view.
    “Found our mark.” He grabbed a water bottle and took a gulp. “I’ll need your help.”
    I tossed my book on the sand. “Anything to move this day along.”
    With another gulp of water, Grayson grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the chair. “Scenario Sixty-Two?” A couple at odds.
    “No. Not Sixty-Two. I don’t have the mental fortitude to fake a fight with you. How about Eight?” I pulled my hand out of his before the lust ignited and we ended up on a Serta sleeper with post-orgasmic guilt.
    “Eight won’t work. He’s not exactly… handsome.” Grayson scrunched his nose, which only made him look more adorable.
    Not what I wanted to hear. “How about Thirteen?” I wasn’t in the mood to hit on anyone today, but the lesser of two evils and all that.
    “Thirteen it is.”
    We approached the lavish, red and white beachfront hotel most people found beautiful. It reminded me of the ex-asshole playing hide-the-sausage in the honeymoon suite with his assistant while I stood groomless under a hydrangea-covered trellis on this very same beach.
    Cupid delighted in finding new ways to torture me.
    We walked down the stone path to the beachfront café where a purple arrow floated over a man in his late twenties with a receding hairline, pockmarks, and a shirt that read, “ I’m not a geek, I’m a level nine warlock.” No wonder Grayson wanted Scenario Sixty-Two; he had a soft spot for the desperate.
    Grayson reached out and unbuttoned three buttons on my bathing suit cover up, exposing a lot more cleavage than a level nine warlock deserved. “Better than your personality.”
    I shoved his hands away. “Just go find his other half.”
    Grayson blew me a kiss and wandered off.
    I closed one of the buttons, slid into the empty seat next to him at the bar, and held out my hand. “Hi, I’m Noel.”
    He took a gander of the goods, then knocked over his drink in a hurry to shake my hand. A foamy white substance smelling of rum and coconut crept along the wood. His stare wandered between the crawling liquid and back to me, but he finally made the decision to ignore the mess and talk to the hot girl.
    “Norm.” He ogled my abundant cleavage, then remembered his good manners, clasping my hand in his, shaking vigorously.
    Thank God for divine intervention, or this poor shmuck would never get laid.
    But today was Norm’s lucky day. Today he’d meet his other half. The ying to his yang. The milk to his cookie. The peanut butter to his jelly. And he might even have sex.
    “Do you play Warcraft?” He looked hopeful.
    I shook my head.
    “It’s a great game. See, the elves hate the orcs…” Norm started his very detailed explanation.
    At the twenty-minute mark of the ins and outs of The World of Warcraft, I developed an irritating twitch. Another moment and I was going to find a BFG, otherwise known as a Big Fucking Gun in geek speak, and shoot myself.
    Norm rambled on and I answered and nodded when appropriate, but my scope of vision zeroed in the surrounding area in search of Grayson and Norm’s ladylove.
    Grayson walked up with an attractive blonde in a pale-yellow bikini, Norm’s matching purple arrow bobbing over her head. He settled her at an empty table and came to the bar. I ignored my partner and studied Norm’s mate. She was a seven out of ten, way better than my geeky