Eros (Contemporary Mythos Book 4)
Eros: Chapter 8

“I can’t believe you followed me here,” I said to Alex, who’d been on my heels since leaving the office.

“Given your track record lately, I don’t think I can trust you with doing this alone anymore.”

I bumped my hip against the door leading into The Arrow. “Do you want to date Graeme too?”

“I’d be down for a three-way.” She raised one dark brow.

“Shut up, goober.” I chuckled and turned my gaze to the bar.

No sign of Eric.

“Who you looking for?” Alex’s chin dipped over my shoulder.

I jumped, clapping a hand over my chest. “No one.”

“Liar, liar, I’m going to set your hair on fire for lying to me.”

“That’s not how the saying goes.”

“My version does. You were looking for Eric, weren’t you?”

“He’s the bartender. How else am I going to get a drink? A free one, mind you?”

“I’ve got my eye on you, Stewart.” She pointed to her eyes and then to me before sitting on a stool.

I leaned my forearms against the edge, tapping in rhythm while humming You’re Nobody ‘Til Somebody Loves You by Dean Martin.

“Dean Martin, huh?” Alex helped herself to a maraschino cherry from the other side of the bar.

“You know I love my crooners.”

Eric appeared from the back room, and the sight of him made butterflies clash inside my stomach. He rubbed the back of his neck with a lop-sided grin, thanking the cocktail waitress for watching over the bar.

His blue eyes fixed on me, and a swagger formed in his step. “Ah. Brought back up this time, did you?” He grinned at Alex.

“I’m here of my own accord.” Alex’s face remained blank as she flipped the lid and grabbed another cherry.

“Those aren’t for snacking, you know?” He snapped the lid shut.

“Then why have them so close to the customers?”

They weren’t that close. She had to stand on the wrung of her stool to reach them.

Eric chuckled and popped the lid back open. “You know what? Knock yourself out.”

He turned his attention to me, pressing his hands into the wood of the bar. The green and blue plaid of his flannel shirt reminded me of Clan Stewart hunting tartan colors.

“Did you have fun last night?” He raised his brow.

“The company was charming, yes.” I folded my hands and rested them in my lap. “We have another date here tonight.”

He cocked his head to the side, eyes searching my face and unabashedly scoping my chest. “You don’t need to have every date here in the bar. You know that, right?”

“Sure, but I want you to bear witness to losing bit by bit.” I challenged him with my stare.

He brought our faces closer, curling his bottom lip under his teeth. “How villainous.”

“I’m replaceing my inner Maleficent.”

His right eye twitched. “Funny, I’d call you more of an Ursula.”

My jaw dropped, and I swatted him in the arm. The brief contact with the taut muscle hiding underneath his shirt sent a twinge from my stomach to my toes. I snapped my hand back to my lap.

He glanced down where I’d slapped him. “Well, I should whip you up another drink, eh?”

“You would be correct.” I pressed my hands together so tightly under the bar they trembled.

He tapped twice with his finger, trying to wink at me again before turning away and making my drink.

Alex’s face appeared in my peripheral vision, her eyes centimeters from my head.

“Can I help you?” I leaned back, scanning her face.

“You cannot be this dense.”

“Excuse me?”

She grabbed my face, squishing my cheeks, and turned my head, forcing me to look at Eric making my drink. He whistled to himself as he flipped bottles, flashing a smile now and again at the woman watching from the corner seat of the bar.

“Are you trying to make a point?” I asked with a muffled voice.

She groaned and let her hand drop. “Are you trying to tell me that you decided to come here for your date to make Eric suffer while he watched you with Graeme?”

“That’s precisely why.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you replace yourself having more fun bantering with Eric versus going places you don’t like with Graeme?”

A glaring battle ensued between us. “I don’t think I like what you’re suggesting.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Eric asked, holding a martini glass with yellowish-white liquid.

Alex glared at him and drummed her fingers. “Are you an archery enthusiast?”

“Did you see what I named my bar?” Eric pointed to the glowing red sign above us.

Her drumming turned into tapping. “You’re awfully good at putting two people together. Does it run in the family?”

“You could say that.” Eric narrowed his eyes.

“Alex—” I started, but she pressed a finger against my lips and kept her focus on Eric.

“You scratch your back a lot. Hiding something?”

“I’ve got a skin condition.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“You asked.”

My eyes darted between them like I was observing the world’s strangest tennis match.

“Do any of your other names rhyme with stupid?”

Eric leaned in. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I feel like I should be insulted somehow.”

She slowly slipped off her stool. After pointing at him and then me, she pointed at her own eyes before moving to a different seat.

“That’s Alex for you.” I craned my head to the side. “What’s this drink called?”

He squinted at Alex before shaking his head and brightening his eyes as he set the drink in front of me. “Fallen Angel.”

My pulse raced.

“Does this work on women?” The words came out breathy.

“Sex on the Beach usually works fine.” He grinned at me, deepening the dimple in his chin.

My gaze fell to his lips as I slid the glass across the bar. “And what’s in this winged drink?”

“Gin, lime, crème de menthe – and a dash of magic.”

“Magic? Wow. Did you sprinkle fairy dust in it?”

His eyes grew heavy. “Fairies ain’t got nothing on me.”

What was happening? Why was our dynamic changing, and more to the point…why was I going along with it?

“Sorry I’m late,” Graeme said from behind me, making me jump and sputter, sending angelic liquid all over Eric’s face.

I slapped a hand over my mouth, trying to hold back a laugh.

Eric had one eye closed, liquid rolling down it, and he chuckled. “Can’t say I’ve ever had that happen before.”

“I’m so sorry.” I giggled as I grabbed a napkin.

Our gazes locked, my hand numbly dabbing his cheek.

“Can I get a beer, Eric?” Graeme leaned on the bar.

Eric took the napkin from my hand, making sure to graze his fingertip over my skin. The reaction was instantaneous, sending ripples of static shooting down my arm.

“Sure thing. Molson?”

“Perfect.” Graeme’s hand slid over my lower back, and he smiled at me as if what just happened with Eric flew over his head.

I took a sip of my drink, noting the scent of mint from the leaves floating on top added to the experience.

“What drink is that?” Graeme asked, peeking at the concoction.

“A Fallen Angel.”

“Prohibition classic. Very nice.” He grinned as he brushed the tip of my nose with his. His eyes dropped to my lips.

I held the drink between us. “Would you like a sip?”

He squinted at me, his smile fading, and shook his head.

I could feel Alex’s stare singing my hairline. She made an “o” shape with one hand and slid her finger in and out of it, motioning her chin at Eric. I waved my hands at her to stop making obscene gestures while my cheeks warmed. When I turned back to Graeme, his lips planted on mine. I tensed, splaying my hands in the air, staring at his closed eyes.

Not one single spark went off anywhere in me. No explosions behind my eyelids. Not even tingles.

He pulled away, licking at the corner of his lips. “Sorry. I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you drinking scotch. Never thought I could be jealous of a beverage.” He smirked, wiping the side of my mouth with a flick of his thumb.

“No reason to apologize. It was—” I smiled. “Nice.”

A Molson bottle slammed on the bar top near us. Eric’s forearms tensed as he leaned on the bar. “That’ll be ten fifty.”

Graeme kept his gaze on me as he fished into his back pocket, producing a wallet. My phone buzzed in my purse, and I snatched it, thankful for the reprieve—a long text from Dad.

Da: Lani, I’m feeling under the weather, and I think it’s best if I skip our Scotland trip this year. I know you’ll be disappointed, but take someone else with ye. Enjoy yourself. I love you.

I frowned and let the phone slip from my hand. Eric’s arm shot out, catching it before it crashed to the ground.

“Everything okay?” Eric lowered his head so he could see my face.

“Sweetheart?” Graeme touched my shoulder.

I looked between the two men, my eyelashes fluttering. Words tried to come out, but only squeaks and cracks escaped. I didn’t want to go to Scotland alone, to represent Clan Stewart alone. But Graeme and I had only known each other for a matter of days. It’d be crazy to—

“Come to Scotland with me.” I heard the words come out of my mouth, it was me who said them, but where they’d come from, I hadn’t a clue.

Eric’s eyes widened for a brief moment, and I tried my best to ignore him.

“Scotland? You’re serious?” Graeme’s eyes sparkled.

I nodded and whimpered at the same time.

“Well, when? How? I mean—” He blinked.

“Two days. My dad can’t go this year. You can have his plane ticket. Please, Graeme?”

He chuckled. “A paid trip to Scotland? I’d be crazy to pass that up.”

I jostled his shoulder. “It’ll be fun. You can show me where you’re from.”

His eyes fell shut, and he snapped his fingers. “Two days. I have an important client meeting I can’t miss.”

“You can exchange the ticket? The Calling of the Clans isn’t until Friday. I think I can manage alone for a night.” I gave a weak smile.

“Alright. It’s a date.” His phone rang, and he sighed once he read the name on the screen. “I have to take this. Be right back.” He pressed the cell to his ear, stood, and walked to a vacant corner.

“What are you doing, Elani?” Eric frowned.

“I’m going to Scotland with my future husband.”

His brow rose. “Don’t you think it’s a little soon to be gallivanting across the globe?”

“You gave me three months. Nothing is too soon.”

“You looked surprised when you asked him.”

“You did.” Alex slid onto the stool next to me. “And you sounded like a robot when you said it.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Will you both butt out? I have to make this work. Remember, Alex?”

She clucked her tongue against the inside of her cheek with a sigh.

“If this is about the bet, Elani, I—”

I threw a hand up. “This has gone beyond the bet. This is about Graeme and me.”

There was a reason I’d never tried the algorithm on myself—an underlying fear that it wouldn’t work. And if it didn’t…all those failed dates, never lasting relationships—it’d mean I was a lost cause.

My world didn’t revolve around replaceing a guy, but the thought of living out the rest of my life alone…terrified me.

I blinked and looked at Alex. The side of her mouth twitched in her version of a warped smile.

A shadow cast over my brain, clouding my thoughts, making me wince.

“I’m going to Scotland with Graeme, and I’d appreciate it if we moved on from the subject.”

Eric dragged a hand over his face and pushed away from the bar, retreating to a corner.

“One last thing, and I’ll do as you ask and shut up.” Alex rested her chin in her hand. “You had an open ticket for two weeks in Scotland, and instead of asking your best friend whom you’ve known for almost ten years, you ask a guy you’ve known for days. Doesn’t sound like you, Stewart.”

I scratched my temple. It did sound absurd.

She grabbed my shoulders, turning me to face her. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have been so surprised if you would’ve picked the other one you’ve known for days, but Graeme? Is it because he’s from the Motherland?”

“You said one last thing.”

Alex sighed and slid from her stool. “You owe me some time tomorrow before you whisk off to the land of men going commando in kilts. Remember that.”

“I wouldn’t forget it for the world, Alex.”

She playfully punched my shoulder and left, sticking her tongue out at Graeme as she went.

Graeme eyed her quizzically as he walked back over, slipping the phone into his pocket. “I’ve got to get going, Lani, but I guess the next time I see you will be in Scotland, aye?” He beamed, bending down to kiss me.

It was a brief touch of lips caressing against each other before he squeezed my forearm and whisked through the door.

Eric’s face was in mine when I turned back around, making me teeter on my stool. His hand shot out, grabbing my arm, tensing to keep me from falling backward.

“Did Vena talk to you when I went to the back the other day?” His brow furrowed, eyes unblinking and boring into my very being.

His touch rippled through me, taking my breath away.

I rubbed the skin between my eyes, trying to put together memories from that night. “All she said was goodbye.”

The corners of his jaw tightened. “Anything else? Did she do anything at all, Elani?”

“Why are you interrogating me?”

He let go of my arm and balled his hands into fists. “It’s important. Please?”

“She…blew me a kiss? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

His eyes closed, and a growl vibrated at the back of his throat.

“That doesn’t seem that abnormal to me. I thought she was coy.”

“It’s—” He swiped a hand through his hair, giving the dark tendrils one firm tug. “It’s hard to explain.”

“You’re scaring me, Eric.” I curled my arms around myself, stealthily moving off the stool.

“I’m not trying to. Vena she’s—she’s complicated. Petty and deceitful. Do you understand?”

With baby steps, I moved toward the exit. “Sure. But what do any of those have to do with me?”

His blue eyes rippled like a strengthening current. “Everything.”

I bumped into a chair.

Eric frowned and hopped over the table to stop me. He lightly grabbed my biceps and stared down at me, pleading in his gaze.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I watched his anguished expression, the hard creases forming in his cheeks and forehead.

He winced and rolled his shoulders, making his jaw tighten. “Be careful in Scotland. If a thought or an action you do doesn’t feel like yourself, try to fight it.”

“What does that mean, Eric?”

He grimaced and rolled his shoulders again. “Just be careful.” He grabbed my hand and scribbled something on it with a pen before curling my fingers over it. “My number. In case you want to gloat over how swimmingly your time with Graeme is going.” He half-smiled but winced as if someone poked him in the side with a torch.

“I—okay. Are you alright?” I grabbed his shoulder.

He turned away from my touch. “I’m fine. I’ve got to go, but remember what I said, alright? Remember.”

“Okay, okay.”

He gave a curt nod before sprinting for the back. Either the guy had some gigantic skeletons in his closet or the world’s worst case of IBS.

I opened my hand, staring down at the phone number with a tiny bow and arrow drawn on the end.

My brain told me to wash my hand, rid it of the number I didn’t need. But heeding Eric’s advice, I listened to my heart—a piece of me that whispered in my ear to save it.