Chapter XXIII
Roman
The last thing I’d expected to do today was spend what was supposed to be a working lunch with Demi and my daughter.
Not that I was complaining. The view was infinitely better than my makeshift office in one of the lodge’s converted guest rooms. Watching Demi teach Junie how to toss grapes into the air and catch them with her mouth was . . . well . . . attractive.
Too attractive.
I hadn’t dated much since my divorce. And I’d never introduced Junie to any of the women I’d gone out with.
Not that this was a date. But seeing Demi with Junie—laughing, being silly, letting her guard down—it did something to me.
It made me want a woman in my life again.
Someone who brought a softer touch. Someone who’d love Junie like her own.
Don’t get me wrong, Carmen was a wonderful mother. She loved Junie fiercely. But I missed the feminine presence in our home. The warmth. The balance. And I wanted more children.
If I was being honest with myself—dangerously honest—part of me wanted Demi. The part of me that was clearly irrational. The part that didn’t care if I lost the show, or got my entire crew fired.
Earlier that morning, while I was scheduling Demi’s upcoming dates, a jealous monster had roared inside me. All I could think about was what she’d said in the forest the night before. About our first meeting. Why did I have to be such a prick at eighteen?
That memory—sharp and stupid—ate at me. And this overwhelming feeling of regret consumed me. Deep down, I knew I’d missed out on more than just being her friend. And now here I was, tasked with—and volunteering for—helping her find her true love. What a cruel twist of fate.
Demi caught me staring. She tossed the grape and missed, and it landed beside her bare legs. Smooth legs. Shapely legs.
“What?” she asked, cheeks flushing.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “You’re just . . . good at that.”
“Oh, thanks,” she replied, voice a little too high, a little too nervous.
I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable around me, but I wasn’t sure how to ease that.
“By the way, thank you for lunch. I, too, love peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwiches.” She pointed at her half-eaten sandwich lying on unfolded parchment paper.
“You can thank your pet. She delivered the picnic basket full of food after she scared the hell out of me in my office.”
Demi giggled. “She does enjoy her theatrics.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“I guess the gods really do want us to be friends.” She emphasized the title like it had quotation marks around it.
Was that her hint to me to cool the attraction she felt rolling off me? Her emotional radar system was a hindrance.
“Yeah,” I said lamely. What else was I going to say? Demi was on a quest to find true love. I wasn’t going to get in the way of that.
Thankfully, Junie helped me out.
“My grandma showed me some videos of you doing gymnastics. You were so good,” she said, wide-eyed. “Can you teach me some gymnastics?”
Demi shifted on the picnic blanket, nibbling her lower lip. “Um . . . it’s been a long time since I’ve done any gymnastics.”
“How come?” Junie asked innocently.
Demi pointed to a faint line on her thigh. “A long time ago, I was in an accident, and it hurt my legs.”
Junie touched the line gently. “Are you all better now?”
Demi thought for a moment. “My legs are better, but my heart is still hurt.” She cast a furtive glance at me.
I didn’t need to touch her or know her heart to feel the pain she obviously still carried with her from the night of her accident.
The gods might have been able to heal her physically, but emotionally she was still wounded.
And to think I’d probably added to those wounds the night of our first meeting when all she was looking for was a friend.
I was a bastard.
All the animosity between us through the years now made much more sense. Which wasn’t to say that I agreed with how she ran the Bureau or that she didn’t love to stick it to me when she could. But I could now see why she had her guidebook and rules.
“How do you fix your heart?” Junie asked.
I wanted to know the answer to that question too. But I knew Demi’s heart wasn’t something I could fix. All I could do was help her find the man for the job.
“Well.” Demi smiled. “Maybe you can help me fix a part of it. How about I teach you a few things about gymnastics?”
Junie jumped up. “Yes!”
Demi stood and tilted her head, studying me. So many questions in her eyes. I got the same feeling as I had the night before—like she was sizing me up and trying me on.
“You have to do this too.”
Her voice was playful and light, so unlike the Demi I’d thought I knew. It was as if she were peeling back the layers and discovering herself again.
Her dazzling smile caught me off guard, as did the way the sunlight’s rays seemed to adore her. It made her red hair, down in long, loose waves, appear as fire. But as dazzling as her smile was, it was still missing something—her heart.
“I’m not a gymnastics guy,” I assured her.
“You’ll be fine. I promise.” She held out her hand to me.
Without a second thought, I took it. Anything to touch her.
When I placed my hand in Demi’s, Junie beamed unnaturally. I knew that devious look in her eyes. Her goddess spoke to her.
The god in me had some things to say too. He longed for this connection, as did I.
Demi helped pull me up and held on to my hand for a moment longer, still trying to read me. Odd, considering she always could. But it was like she’d read something and couldn’t decipher it.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
She flushed an adorable shade of red and dropped her hand. “Uh . . . nothing. Just want to make sure you’re up for this challenge.”
“I am!” Junie shouted, bouncing on her toes.
I wished I could bottle her energy.
Demi ruffled Junie’s hair.
“Let’s do this, then. As a gymnast, balance is very important. So, we’re going to do a couple of balancing exercises. Are you ready?”
Junie nodded.
“First, we are going to start with a flamingo stand.”
“I love flamingos because they’re pink,” Junie informed Demi.
“I love flamingos too,” Demi replied. “And we are going to stand on one foot like one. To start, spread your arms out wide, and when you feel comfortable, lift one leg.”
She demonstrated with effortless grace—arms extended, one leg bent, then hands coming together at her chest like a prayer. She didn’t wobble. Not even once. She was a goddess. And not just because of her lineage.
“Okay, now you try.” Demi stayed in position, perfectly posed, with not even a hint of wavering even though the ground below us was uneven.
Not to brag, but I nailed it. One leg up, arms out, hands to heart. I even matched her expression—focused, serene, slightly amused.
“Very good, Padawan,” Demi teased.
I laughed, and it threw me off-balance enough that I had to drop my leg to steady myself.
Demi smirked, victorious, before turning her attention to Junie, trying her hardest to keep her leg up for more than a second at a time. Her arms flailed. Her foot wobbled. But her determination? Unshakable.
It was one of the things I loved most about my daughter.
“Close your eyes, Junie,” Demi instructed. “And just focus on your breath while lifting your leg. The key to balance is finding your center, and in the center of everything is your breath.”
Wise words, I thought. I also couldn’t help but think how lovely Demi was.
It amazed me how steady she was on one leg as she carefully watched Junie and tried to guide her.
Her physical stamina was incredible. And I loved how patient she was with Junie.
I bet she would have made a great coach if she’d been given the chance.
After several attempts, Junie was finally able to keep her leg up for a few seconds. She beamed with pride.
“Daddy, I’m doing it.”
“Yes, you are. I’m proud of you.”
“Me too,” Demi said, her voice warm and full of praise. “Now, are you ready for something a little harder?”
Junie nodded, always up for a challenge. Just like her mom.
“Very good,” Demi said. “We’re going to try an airplane pose next.”
Without missing a beat, she shifted—her lifted leg extending back, torso tilting forward until her body formed a perfect line, arms outstretched like wings. She didn’t waver. Not once.
There was a reason they used to call her the Flame. Commentators said she didn’t just compete—she ignited the floor. And right now, she was igniting something inside me. Something I knew I should extinguish. But didn’t want to.
Junie clapped enthusiastically. “You’re so good! You do it, Daddy!”
I was about to decline—this was her lesson, not mine—but Demi, still perfectly poised, flashed me a smirk. The kind that said, Are you chicken?
Never one to back down, I stepped into position. Not as graceful. Definitely not as steady. But passable—if I say so myself.
And then I realized: I was face-to-face with Demi. Close enough to feel her breath—warm, sweet—brush across my cheek.
Her eyes met mine.
“Um . . . hi,” she whispered.
And just like that, the ground beneath me felt a little less stable.
I stared at her lips, wanting to capture them.
The need to know how she tasted consumed me—a foolish, reckless impulse.
Before I could act on it, something shoved me.
I swore it. A force—not wind, not gravity—sent me tumbling forward.
I wrapped my arms around her, trying to cushion the fall, but it felt more like a tackle than a rescue. We landed on the blanket, tangled in limbs and breath and heat. Her body pressed against mine—lithe, warm, bare in places that made my pulse stutter.
“Damn, I’m sorry,” I said, breathless. “It felt like someone gave me a shove.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. She just . . . stilled and settled. But her brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
She shook her head slowly. “I was just thinking . . . we keep getting thrown together. Maybe there’s a reason. A reason besides . . . you know . . .” She shut her eyes tight. “Never mind.”
My hold on her strengthened, fingers daring to press into her skin. I wanted her to finish that thought. Needed her to. Even if it was foolish. Even if it was dangerous. Her goddess life and her heart were on the line. I didn’t take that lightly.
But maybe she was right.
Maybe there was more to this.
To us.
But . . . as hard as I tried, even at that very moment, there was no breaking into her heart. Was it possible that eventually any part of me could?
What was I even thinking? She was a cast member on my show. And I’d known her for years — years filled with nothing but hate between us. I’d take the blame for that.
And I was a Cupid. Wouldn’t I know if she were my true love? Wouldn’t she?
“Are you guys going to get up?” Junie asked, snapping me back to reality. The bubble that seemed to appear when I was with Demi lately popped.
Demi untangled herself from me with practiced speed. She stood, brushed off her legs, and wrapped Junie in a hug.
“Well, that was fun,” she said, voice light, almost musical.
“Thanks for lunch.” She kissed Junie’s cheek.
“It was good to see you again. Next time, make sure you ask your grandma or dad—or call Lady Goldy, and I’ll know.
” Then, like a soprano hitting her final note, she added, “See you both later.”
And jogged off.
Before I could catch her.
Before I could ask what she meant.
Before I could say anything at all.
It was her MO around me—vanishing. Leaving me stunned. Wondering what the hell had just happened.
Junie knelt beside me, grinning like she’d just watched the best episode of her favorite show. “You’re funny, Daddy.”
I sat up, slinging an arm around her small shoulders, trying to shake off whatever that was between me and Demi. It felt like I’d missed something. Again.
“You think so?” I asked.
She nodded and leaned her head against me. “Uh-huh.”
“How come?”
“Because you’re a scaredy-cat, Daddy.”
I blinked. “What?”
“She wanted you to kiss her,” Junie said matter-of-factly. “And you didn’t.”
My heart, admittedly, skipped a few beats.
“Junie . . . how do you know that?” How could she read Demi, when I couldn’t? Sometimes Junie’s gifts frightened me. And I had a feeling that the older she got, the more of them she would discover.
“Because I know things.”
“Care to share with your dad?”
Junie giggled. “I can’t, silly.”
I’d figured that’s what she was going to say. Her little goddess was a divine pain sometimes.
But I couldn’t help but wonder if she was right. Had Demi wanted me to kiss her? Did Demi really think there was more to us? I didn’t have time to contemplate it. I had to get back and set Demi up on dates. Meaningless dates with the wrong men.
If Demi wasn’t meant for any of these men, then who was she meant for?
Me? Were the signs pointing us in that direction? That was a risky thought.
All I knew was that this quest was getting stranger and stranger.