Eros (Contemporary Mythos Book 4)

It was late morning, and I stood outside The Arrow, rubbing the wool jacket covering my arms because evidently, the bar didn’t open that early. Go figure. Blowing into my hands to warm them, I slipped them into my pockets, bouncing on my heels as I waited for Graeme to show up.

“Wow. Miss me that much?” Eric said from behind me.

I whipped around to face him as he dug a set of keys from his pocket with a sparkling grin.

“For your information, I’m meeting Graeme so we can fly to Santa Fe in a private jet.” I lifted my nose, wiggling it to ease the numbness from the cold.

“Santa Fe, huh? And what pray tell, is in Santa Fe?” He jingled the keys.

I sniffled. “A free MMA fight.”

He frowned and opened the door, standing aside to let me in. “You’re flying all the way there to watch a fight? I thought you said the only sport you could stand watching was hockey?”

I ran past him, feverishly rubbing my arms.

He remembered I said that?

“I did, I do—but Graeme is a big fan or something, and I mean, they’re free tickets from my sister.” I shrugged, covering my nose with my palm.

Eric stared down at the keys, tossing them in his hand before dropping them in his pocket. “Uh-huh, how many times did he insist on going?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“Here’s a crazy idea. You could’ve said something like— ‘no.’”

“I just met this guy, Eric. And I have a really good feeling about him. What’s pretending like I’m into two women beating the crap out of each other for a couple of hours?” I ran a finger over my collarbone, remembering the way Graeme’s eyes burned into me as he watched me drink scotch. “Besides, it’ll give us a chance to get to know each other outside of a bar.”

“What’s pretending? Do you really have to ask?” He raised a brow and moved behind the bar.

“Please. Like you’ve never told little white lies or put on this front in the initial stages of a relationship.” I sat on a stool, curling my jacket over my thin leggings.

He shrugged his jacket off, revealing a gray Henley hugging his chest versus the usual flannel. My stomach fluttered. “First off—” He rolled his sleeves up and turned the hot water on of the sink. “Starting things with a lie is never a good start. Trust me.” The corner of his jaw tightened. He made the water soapy and proceeded to wash a shaker bottle. “Secondly, any decent guy would’ve sensed your apprehension and suggested doing something else.”

How had he known I was apprehensive?

“Maybe he doesn’t read people well.”

There was something unusually sensual about watching Eric clean dishes. I pressed my palms together and slipped them between my knees.

He dried the shaker with a towel. “Or he saw it and chose to ignore it because he selfishly wants to go.”

“Admit that you’re worried this guy might be the winner and stop stepping on my toes, Eric.” My mouth twitched. There was as good of a possibility of him being right about Graeme, but my heart wouldn’t let me think otherwise. It was like some sort of hope-hardened shield all of a sudden.

His eyes lifted over my shoulder, and he bent forward, the Henley hugging his arms in all the perfect places. “Don’t let anything cloud your judgment. Eyes and ears open, champ.” He tapped under my chin with his knuckle, lips curving into a half-smile.

“Elani, ye ready to go?” Graeme called out from the doorway.

I traced my fingertips over my chin, still feeling the tingles Eric left behind.

Eric’s gaze dropped to my mouth, and the smile faded, followed by his eyes widening as if something spooked him. He pushed away, backpedaling, and motioning toward Graeme with his head. “Your chariot awaits.”

I glared at him, wondering what the hell that was all about before hopping off my stool and curling my arm with Graeme’s. As we walked outside, I peeked over my shoulder. Eric paced the length of the bar, switching from rubbing his chin to the back of his neck.

You’d think during a several-hour flight, two people who’d just met would not be short of conversation. Color me surprised when we sat in near silence for the duration of the trip. Graeme spent most of the time on his phone, talking to clients and typing up e-mails. Any other free moment, he’d show me YouTube videos of Makos’s fights. I was running out of fake enthusiasm.

I pulled out my phone to text Alex as we began our descent.

Me: I’m bored with Hottie MacTottie. How’s that possible?

Alex: What have you guys talked about?

Me: Nothing, really. And he keeps showing me MMA vids.

Alex: You’re the one that agreed to go, my dear. You made your bed now either get him to sleep in it or wash the sheets.

Me: Did you make that up?

Alex: Don’t I always?

“We’re here,” Graeme said with a wide smile.

Me: I’ll text you later.

Alex: Smack Chelsea on the ass for me.

Chuckling, I dropped my phone in my purse without answering her. “We’ll need to stop at the will-call booth so I can pick up our tickets.”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Elani.”

“Of course,” I answered with a half-smile.

As the Uber carted us to the arena, I texted Chelsea.

Me: So, I’m here. In Santa Fe.

Chels: …are you shitting with me?

I bit back a grin.

Me: Nope. I’ll be at will-call in five minutes. Meet me there?

Chels: OKAY!

“Do you happen to know how close the seats are?” Graeme’s knee bounced.

“I have no idea. I’d assume close given she has a direct connection with a fighter.”

He dragged his hands down his face. “This is unreal.”

I cocked my head to the side, taking in the bundle of nerves Graeme had become as we neared the arena. You’d think we were on our way to meet the King of the Gods or something.

And Alex was rubbing off on me way too much.

Chelsea was already there when we reached the ticket booth, pacing back and forth, looking through the crowds of people. Her gaze landed on me, and her entire face brightened with her smile. I grinned back, holding my arms out to receive the bear hug I knew she’d give. The waves of her fiery-red hair bounced as she ran over, somehow not tripping over the designer heels she wore.

Her arms wrapped around me. “Elani, it’s been way, way too long.”

“I’ll try to get better about it, big sis.” The familiar smell of her shampoo, honey, and apple blossom triggered memories of us as teens learning N’Sync choreography together—our escape after our parents divorced.

She leaned back, squeezing my shoulders. “And you brought a guest.” Beaming at Graeme, she held out her hand.

“Chelsea, this is Graeme, Graeme, my sister Chelsea.”

Graeme slapped on his charming smile, making his eyes squint as he shook her hand. “Pleasure to meet ye, and thank you for the ticket.”

Chelsea’s smile stretched. “No problem. And you’re Scottish. Delightful.” She elbowed me in the side.

We approached the ticket booth, and Chelsea asked for our passes.

“Who’s Makos fighting?” A sad attempt on my part to act at least somewhat interested.

Chelsea opened her mouth to answer.

“Kelly Fitz. Makos is defending her title for the second time,” Graeme interrupted, making his brow bounce.

“That’s right. Big fan, huh?” Chelsea held the tickets out to me, but Graeme snatched them with a broadened smile.

“Do you need to get back to the locker room?” I watched Graeme preen over the tickets from the corner of my eye.

Chelsea folded her arms. “Yeah, unfortunately. But hey, I’ll meet up with you after the fight. Can you stick around for a little bit and give your sister the time of day?”

I nudged her. “Yes, Chels.”

“Good.” She kissed my cheek. “Enjoy the fight.”

“Oh, you know me.”

“You’re right.” She shifted her eyes to Graeme. “I do.”

After giving my arm a final squeeze, she disappeared into the crowd.

“Elani, these tickets are front row.” He pointed at the seat numbers. “And center.” His heels bounced in excitement.

“Nothing like getting blood and sweat in your eye, huh?” I tugged on his sleeve, leading him into the arena.

“That’d be quite the memento, aye?”

“I’d rather not have to worry about soaking my white shirt to get someone else’s bloodstain off it, thanks.”

“Aw, come on, lass.” He whirled me to face him, brushing his hands up and down my arms. “Would ye like a pretzel? A hotdog, perhaps?”

I tapped my lips. “A hotdog.”

“You got it.” He handed me a ticket. “Meet ye at the seats.” He gave my lips a quick peck.

I froze, hoping he didn’t try to go further. When he turned away, walking toward the food stand, I let out a breath.

The seats, thankfully, were not so close you could get questionable bodily fluids on you. My knees bounced as I waited for Graeme, and I tapped my fingers against my thighs, peeking over my shoulder every ten seconds to spot him. The fourteenth time I glanced, Graeme walked side by side with a redhead. They smiled and laughed as if they knew each other. She squeezed his bicep before ducking into a row several behind ours.

He sat down, handing me a hot dog smothered in mustard, ketchup, and onions. Well, at least that’d play an excellent kiss deterrent—I wasn’t ready for it. Would I ever be prepared for it?

“Sorry, I took so long.”

“Who was that?” I motioned behind me with my head and shoved half of the hot dog in my mouth—mainly to keep myself from talking.

“An old friend. We met in Ireland years ago. Isn’t it funny how two people can run into each other inexplicably from opposite ends of the globe?” His eyes twinkled.

Fate.

Talking with that much processed meat product in my mouth would’ve proved futile. Instead, I shrugged and smiled without teeth.

The lights dimmed as the fighter intros began. Click Click Boom by Saliva played for Kelly Fitz as she entered, exciting the crowds. After her opening, the familiar sounds of the Wonder Woman movie theme music boomed through the arena. I smiled to myself, knowing Chelsea had to be the one to pick it. The woman loved her gimmicks. Harm “Amazon” Makos worked her way through the crowd, the scowl deepening over her brow.

Chelsea had talked about Harm several times during our occasional catch-up phone calls. Most often, she used words to describe her as intense, closed-off, and confident. The woman I saw slip into the ring didn’t look that way to me, however. She kept wincing, shaking her head, and furrowing her brow.

I leaned over to Graeme. “She looks distracted or something.”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “She’s focused.”

I frowned and sat back.

The fight started, and it didn’t take long for Kelly to clip Harm in the side of the head.

“Oh, shite,” Graeme mumbled.

Harm stared off in the distance, and her face fell blank. It was like her mind went somewhere else, leaving her body behind. Kelly hit her again, and Harm’s swings turned desperate and uncalculated.

“She’s going to lose,” I whispered.

“No. No, she’s got this. She has to,” Graeme said with a snarl.

Harm stumbled backward, grasping the cage behind her. Kelly’s foot slammed into the side of Harm’s temple, sending her in a slump to the ground.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” Graeme held his face in his hands as the crowd around us booed and yelled.

Harm lay flat on her back in the ring. A man with dark hair pulled into a bun at the base of his head and equally as dark beard rushed to her side. He looked familiar. Another MMA fighter, maybe? I sighed, waiting for the inevitable text from Chelsea. As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my purse.

Chels: Sorry little sis, I need to make sure Harm doesn’t drink her way into oblivion.

Me: It’s all good. We’ll catch up again. Promise it won’t be so long this time.

Chels: :-* Love you.

Me: Me too.

“Let’s get the hell out of here. What a disappointment.” Graeme shot to his feet, shaking his head and flicking his wrist at the cage like the fighters inside disgusted him. “I can’t believe she lost.”

“She had an off day.” I followed behind him, taking one last glance behind me at Harm.

The bearded man stormed after her as she sprinted from the cage, ripping the gloves off before she even reached the locker room doors.

“She screwed up is what she did. It’s hard to bounce back after a loss like that. Look at Rousey.” He took my hand, interlacing our fingers.

I didn’t know who he was talking about, but I found myself staring at our hands—our skin pressed against each other. No tingles. No flutters in my stomach. Not like what happened every single time with…no.

“You okay?” Graeme asked, shaking my hand.

I snapped my gaze to his face like I’d been caught staring at the lengthy impression in his pants. “Hm, what? Yeah. I’m fine, just a little tired.”

“Fortunately for you, we got a semi-long flight you can sleep on.” He pressed a kiss at the corner of my brow.

As we walked outside to wait on our Uber, I trailed a finger over where he kissed. Graeme was everything I needed laying out right there on paper. The algorithm chose him for a reason. And unlike the other failures, the formula matched us to our deeper-rooted characteristics. Admittedly, the Scottish portion of it was the biggest draw for me. We shared an ancient tie of culture. He even had the dark hair and eyes that always drove me wild. My gaze dropped to his chin—smooth. No cleft.

I’d lied to Graeme, telling him I was tired and wanted to call it a night. He’d dipped his mouth to mine, going in for the kiss. I should’ve just gone for it. The kiss would’ve told me everything I needed to know, but I was scared. Scared because deep down in my gut, I knew it’d tell me what I didn’t want to hear. I needed to talk to Dad. He always had a way of making the world make sense. No matter how crazy it got.

I tapped my fingernail against the side of my laptop, watching the calling screen in front of me as it dialed. I glanced at the time, knowing Dad should still be up. Disappointment washed over me just as his face appeared on my screen.

I smiled. “Hey, Da.”

“Elani? It hasn’t even been a week since our last chat. Everything okay, lass?” His brow crinkled.

“Physically, yes.”

“Lani.” He leaned forward, making his green eyes fill the screen behind his glasses. “Talk to me.”

“I met someone.”

His face brightened. “Well, that’s wonderful news. Why do you look so sad?”

“He’s everything I should want. Has a great job. Charming. Funny. Handsome. He’s even Scottish.”

“Is he now? What clan?”

“MacFarlane.”

Dad’s lip bounced.

“Da.” I chuckled.

“I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. It sounds like your mind’s made up. Do ye want to ask me what you really wanted to ask?”

I stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t feel anything with him.”

“Uh-huh. I thought you were looking for a partner for life, Lani girl. Not love.”

I snapped my eyes back to him. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” His warm smile calmed me—soothed me.

Is that what I was waiting for?

No, no. Graeme and I just needed some more time. It’d click in at the opportune moment.

“I should go, Dad. I appreciate the talk.”

“Lani.” He leaned forward, taking off his glasses. “Don’t close yourself off to the possibilities around you. Don’t let what’s happened to you in the past fog your chances of being happy. Eyes and ears open.” He nodded once. “We’ll talk again soon.”

His face disappeared, replaced by a black screen. I stared at it, my heart thudding in my chest. Someone else had said nearly those exact words to me.

Eyes and ears open, champ.