Divine Ambrosia Page 4
“Are you one of them?” The words flew from her lips before she could reel them in.
The stranger chuckled and pulled off his helmet. Dark hair tumbled out around his shoulders, framing a face equal parts rugged and handsome, not as pretty and flawless as Luke, but breathtaking in its own kind of way, his bright blue eyes above a crooked nose that looked like it had once been broken and hadn’t set right.
Esme stared, as petrified by his resemblance to the warrior of her dream as she was aroused by it. It had to be coincidence.
Despite his warm smile, he exuded a strong aura of don’t-fuck-with-me that dissuaded Esme from approaching. Guys like him started bar brawls and finished them, the last man standing while all other bodies lay strewn among puddles of spilled liquor and shattered furniture.
“Nah. Not tonight, I’m not. You have a name to go with that pretty voice?”
Instead of telling him how much she wanted to sit on his face, she tersely said, “It isn’t nice to follow someone alongside the road. Haven’t you seen all those anti-catcalling videos on Facebook?”
He blinked at her, and a moment of awkward silence passed before he let loose a long laugh, the warm and comforting kind that didn’t feel like he was laughing at her specifically. “You got me there, but technically, I haven’t catcalled you. I don’t do that kind of shit. Honest, I’m just offering you a ride home. You’re carrying a backpack that looks like it weighs fifty pounds, and it’s frosty as hell out here.”
Esme hung back for a second. Her thumb was still hovering over the button to call 911.
“Isn’t it dangerous to ride a bike in the winter?”
“No more than a car when you’re with the right rider, and I don’t crash. Ever.”
“I don’t know…”
“Look, ride or no ride, I’m gonna escort you along. So you can tolerate my company walking or have a break and let me drive you.”
What would Marie do when faced with the impossible choice of potentially being swept away by a hot man on a motorcycle versus walking alone in the cold for ten minutes?
Her good and dependable, boring friend would take the long route, citing possible abduction and sex dungeons. “Fine.” She wiggled her other arm into the second strap of her backpack then crossed the sidewalk to join him.
While balancing the powerful machine between his strong legs, he placed the helmet over her head and slid it neatly into place before coaxing her behind him on the enormous bike. She immediately felt like a bad ass. “Just put your arms around me, baby, and hold on tight.”
It had to be one of her more foolish decisions ever, but she did as he said and gripped his coat. The body beneath it was rock-hard and warm as a furnace, heating through her clothes and jacket. She laced her fingers over his abdomen and let her overactive imagination carry her away.
When she relaxed and sank in against him, he throttled the engine and took off, the bike rocketing forward with more speed than she’d anticipated. Her mysterious—what did she call him when “stalker” had a negative connotation, conflicting with the reassuring comfort the stranger emitted—helper lowered his hand from the bar to her thigh, effectively steadying her.
The bike didn’t wobble, didn’t veer even an inch off course, but Esme freaked and buried her fingers into the leather. “Put your damn hand back where it belongs!”
“Damn. Sorry. You seemed tense.”
“You not having both hands on the bars is making me more tense.”
He laughed again and removed his hand. “Where to?”
“Ridgewood Lane. You can drop me at the cafe on the corner.”
“You got it.”
“So, what’s your name, then?”
“Beau.”
Esme laughed against the back of his shoulder. He looked like a Beau, the name a perfect match to those chiseled angles, tempting lips, and the scruffy shadow covering his jaw and chin.
“What’s so funny?”
“It… fits. You look like a Beau.”
“I hoped you’d say that.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.”
The walk that would have taken her ten minutes took a couple on his bike, and despite the wind cutting through her clothes, Beau put off heat like a furnace. She almost resented arriving so soon, content to remain pressed against his back and soaking up the warmth.
Esme made herself release the absurdly hot stranger, climb off his bike, and step onto the curb. “Look, um, thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.” He helped pull off the helmet. “Maybe I can catch you around some other day…?”
“Esme,” she said in a rush.
“See? That wasn’t so hard.” He grinned and gunned the engine, then pulled away before she could say anything else.
Beau set the bag of Chinese takeout on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch next to Luke, a widening grin on his face. Being the god of war didn’t mean he couldn’t celebrate and revel in every minor achievement too. And getting Esme on the back of his ride had definitely been a victory over the smarmy little asshole beside him.
“What were you saying before I left? That our Esme would never get on the back of a motorcycle with a man she doesn’t know?”
Luke scowled. “She probably sensed something about you. Some part of her has to remember us after all of this time.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you just struck out so bad she’s eager to get to know a real man who won’t pop his cock in her hand on the first date.”
“Dude, are you ever going to let me live that down?”
“Nope,” Beau replied.
“I think you deserved more than the slap she gave you,” Alexander said. He sat opposite them, a huge man who barely fit in the seat even though Luke had personally bought the oversized recliner just for him. No amount of magic would shrink him or make him any smaller, his size part of his divine gift, so to speak.
“I’m sorry, okay? Look, I thought… I just figured she’d be like the old Aphrodite, and once we started, she wouldn’t be able to get enough of me.”
Alexander leaned forward, a warm orange glow lit behind his amber eyes, turning them molten like flame. “You figured wrong, kid.”
“As if you’re doing any better. You stalk her in the shadows because you’re too afraid of letting her see your face. You’ve been in this town with her for years, man. Watched her. There’s a word for guys like you.”
Alex was out of the chair in a flash, seven feet of man with fists as large as hams. Luke met the challenge and jumped off the couch.
And if those two clashed in this little apartment building, there’d be nothing left of it but rubble and cinders.
Beau groaned and stepped between his brother and friend.
“Guys, seriously? This is the shit that chased her away before. You wanna take this opportunity and fuck it up, be my guest, because maybe if you kill each other this time, she’ll give me a shot and I can have her all to myself. All this sharing is caring bullshit we came up with won’t even be necessary because she’ll be all mine.”
Alex grunted. “If it wasn’t for my observations over the years, none of us would be getting this chance to win her back. Remember that.” The giant stepped back first and returned to his chair. “I lived here before she was even born this time around. You wanna take it up with someone, go harass the Fates.”
“Pus—”
Beau shot Luke a hard look, cutting him off before he could finish the insult. “Drop it, Hermes,” he warned in a low voice. “It’s not worth a fight.”
“Whatever. You want some rangoons?” Luke went back to the table to divide their takeout.
Beau snorted. No one else had wanted to go out into the cold and messy night again, so he’d been saddled with picking up the order for their shared dinner. They met at least once a month to play cards over beers and discuss their shared subject of interest, but lately they had gathered more often than that. “I was gonna take some whether you offered or not.”
“Anyway, what’s the plan now?”
“It’s probably been long enough for Esme to cool off. You can probably try to apologize again,” Beau said. At least, he hoped it had been long enough. For this to work, they all needed to be in her good graces.
Luke forked a huge shrimp and a tangle of lo mein into his mouth. “She’s assisting the art director with an important fundraiser thing. I know you donated some money anonymously last year, Heph, but maybe you need to like… give them a piece of work this time around. It’d really brighten her up.”
Alex grunted. “That was my plan. I decided to attend the fundraiser in person this year.”
Beau fumbled his chopsticks. “Say again?”
“You two had your chance. This is mine. I have a piece to donate, and I’ll be attending.”
“But… but… that’s unfair!”
Beau studied his brother. “Getting a bit of an advantage, aren’t you? Posh event, artwork, tuxedos. Ladies love men in tuxes the way they used to love seeing us in armor.”
“It’s not my fault you cling to your bad boy persona, or that Luke here is as dimwitted as ever.”
“Hey!”
“You want me to do more than watch her from the shadows, so I am,” Alex continued. “And as I’ve already said, my decision to live in the middle of nowhere is responsible for finding her in the first place. You struck out, Hermes. Be pissed at yourself if you want to be mad at anyone.”
“She used to like it when I did that,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, well, she used to like a lot of things, but she’s the one who gave up her divinity to become mortal.” Beau sighed. “She’s had two dozen lifetimes to develop entirely different preferences.”
“You afraid of a little hard work?” Alex asked.
“Me, afraid? Nah.” Beau slouched back in his seat again and grinned at the other two gods—his former rivals, two men he’d once hated more than anything. “This only means it’s up to us to figure out this new Aphrodite and win her back. All of us.”
4
An uneventful week followed her meeting with the mystery biker. Since Esme and Marie alternated between their families during the holidays, they made the three-hour drive to San Jose the day before Thanksgiving to hang with the Caro family.
“We’re home!” Esme called.
Her mother swept into the room from the kitchen, wearing her favorite holiday apron decorated with snowflakes and yule-themed designs. “Oh, you girls are so early. How was the traffic?”
“Surprisingly nonexistent. Where’s Daddy?”
“Watching sports and leaving me be in the kitchen.”
Her mother took their coats and gloves, tucking them and the scarves into the sleeves and hanging them on the rack as she always had since they were children. Then she ushered them both into the kitchen to taste the banana pudding she’d prepared for dessert.
“Hey, Daddy.”
“Hi, Mr. Caro.”
“Hello, girls. I hope you’re prepared to gain a few pounds. There’s about a thousand treats in there, and I imagine the pile is only going to continue growing by tomorrow.”
Her mother frowned. “Don’t exaggerate. I haven’t made that much.”
A pot of the prettiest roses Esme had ever seen sat on the counter. The attached card featured cherubs and hearts—apparently, an out of season Valentine’s Day card.
“Daddy buying you late flowers?”
Her mother grinned. “Oh no. Those are for you. They arrived yesterday. You could have told us you have a new boyfriend.”
Esme raised the card and opened it. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
I’m sorry. I know I messed up. Please give me a chance to apologize.
L
Marie stepped up to peer over her shoulder. “What’s that. Oh, whoa. He sent flowers?”
“Yeah, maybe…” But how had he discovered her address? Esme was torn between being creeped out and touched by the sweet gesture. She glanced at Marie. “He didn’t mention it to you?”
“Me? No, it’s a surprise to me too.”
“Seems like a nice young man if he understands he made a mistake,” Daddy said, revealing he’d snooped and read the card, making her all the more grateful Luke’s discreet message didn’t mention his crime. That was a conversation she didn’t want to have with her folks.
“I think you’d like him. He’s a track star probably bound for the Olympics. Transferred here to help out a family friend last year.”
Her father rubbed his chin. He loved college sports. “Sounds familiar. Wouldn’t be Luke—”
“Tempest.”
His eyes lit up behind his glasses. “Well, what are you waiting for? Give the boy a call.”
“Daddy,” she gritted out.
“What?” He looked innocent. “Rich, isn’t he? I believe he’s majority stockholder in an athletic shoe company.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It’s a good sign when a man has enough humility to refrain from singing his own praises,” her father said.
Luke had been exceptionally quiet about his personal life, mentioning little beyond his friends, hobbies, and present activities around the school. His money, his inheritance and supposed trust fund, and all those things had never come up.
“Anyway, you girls go ahead and make yourselves at home. It’s always nice to have you over, Marie. The house is too quiet without you two running around.”
Esme rolled her eyes and pulled Marie away by the arm. They retreated to her bedroom upstairs, which hadn’t changed much over the years. The same rainbow polka-dot comforter from her high school days covered the bed, and a few peeling posters of old bands and actors covered the walls. Memories of Daniel occupied every corner of the room, from the sable football jersey-wearing teddy bear he’d gifted her last year, to a team sweatshirt tossed over the back of the desk chair. She’d even kept her prom corsage.
As soon as they were inside, Esme shut the door and pulled out her phone.
“Are you texting Luke?”
“No, e-mailing Dots and Burkes about their donation. They’re catering the desserts.”
Marie rolled her eyes. “Are you really going to work on that fundraiser here? Now? Girl, it’s called a Thanksgiving break for a reason. It means you put down the work and enjoy some time off relaxing.”
Her mother peeked into the room without knocking and entered to set a plate of gooey brownies in front of them. “Esmeralda Valentina Caro, put that phone away and at least attempt to relax. You always take your work so seriously.”
“It’s for a good cause.”
“A cause that can allow you a few responsibility-free days. I mean it now, or I’ll take the phone away.”
Esme set her phone aside on the nightstand. She sulked at her mother and best friend but surrendered the fight. “Fine. Gang up and bully me.”
Her mother departed again, leaving them alone in a room tainted by Daniel’s old gifts. Esme frowned and sprawled across the bed.
“Ooookay. One second,” Marie said. She vanished and returned moments later with a trash bag. “Fresh goodies for charity.” After bagging the sweatshirt, she traveled around the room, trashing remnants of Esme’s failed relationship. She even plucked a rectangle of photobooth pictures down from the dresser mirror and tossed them into the trash bin.
“Thanks. I guess I forgot how much of him was in this room.”
“Ever notice how every gift he’s ever given you is football or video game related? You know, when I think back, he wasn’t even the best player on the team. Just the cutest,” Marie said.
“Yeah, I guess. I actually liked playing games with him, though.”
“Still, it’s not like he was interested in your, well, interests.”
Esme swung her legs off the bed and started with the closet, saying goodbye to a Call of Duty T-shirt she’d also stolen from Daniel. “True.” A moment passed before she reclaimed it.
Fuck him. She loved Call of Duty.
“I’ll consider it, but only if you promise no more boy talk this weekend. No work, no boys.”
“Deal.”
Snow drifted outside of the student recreation center in waves of condensed fluff, almost hypnotic when Esme stared outside the window too long. She had claimed her usual recliner in the student lounge to study for final exams, craving a peppermint cocoa but too stubborn to add even more calories to her waistline.
Screw it. I can go to the gym with Marie and hit the weights.
The moment she set her book aside to rise, Luke Tempest stepped around the front of the chair, bearing two extra-large hot chocolates and already fixing her with pleading, puppy-dog eyes, the kind of eyes only a heartless shrew could ignore if she had a shriveled little piece of coal where her heart should reside.
Damn.
“Thirsty?”
Esme lingered in the seat. “Maybe.”
He held out a cup. “I wanted to apologize for that shit on our date. Really.”
She crossed her arms against her chest. “Uh-huh.”
“I misread you. I thought things were going somewhere they weren’t, and I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“And?”
His dark brows squished together, clearly perplexed. “I’m sorry? I mean, I really don’t know what else to say aside from promising to keep it in my pants next time.”
“You’re saying that next time bit like you’re positive there’s going to be one.”
His face fell with genuine disappointment. “I really don’t know how else to apologize,” he said in a quiet voice. “But I can promise I won’t do it again.”
Esme sighed. She had the hottest, most sought-after guy in school practically begging her for another chance, and nothing about it seemed real. “I believe you.”
“And if you give me another chance, I swear my dick won’t come out again unless you ask for it.” He gave her a hopeful look, offering the cup again. “Beg for it maybe?”