Cupid and Cupcakes

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

I grabbed my jacket and headed out the front doors and down the steps. The cool night air was a welcome relief. Despite everything, the evening was a success. Mom had reconnected with an old friend, and I scored a cupcake—I took a victory bite. I was still swearing off lying for the sake of Cupid. That was bad.

“Wait,” a deep male voice called behind me.

I jumped and nearly choked on my cupcake. I spun around to see Mr. Muscles standing there, brown eyes locked on me with a lopsided grin.

“What?” I coughed, my hand over my mouth that was still half-full. “I’m outside.” I gestured to the parking lot behind me.

He stared at the remaining half of my cupcake.

Oh no! He was not taking my cupcake too. Before he could make a move, I stuffed the rest into my mouth in one defiant bite, while keeping eye contact.

His grin widened, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. His smile was sweet, and he looked like a different man from before, the dimple giving me déjà vu. “Your mother might be right; you could be starving. ”

I swallowed, the cake coating my throat and changing my voice two octaves lower. “I can come back when my mom’s done.” I cleared my throat and ran my tongue along my teeth covered behind my hand and repeated. “I can come back when Mom’s done.”

He grinned. “Her phone is dead though, remember?”

Very unlikely.

“Truuee.” I drew out the word. “I’ll wait in the car then.”

He motioned with his head for me to follow him. “Come back inside.”

I looked over my shoulder through the parking lot. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to be in there.”

“Oh you aren’t,” he said with a smile. “But if I make sure you aren’t harassing anyone, it should be fine…” Muscles’ casual expression changed. “But just for tonight. I really need to attempt to keep Mr. Cole happy.” His forehead creased.

I scoffed. “I never harassed anyone.”

“Debatable.” He chuckled as he held the door open for me. “It’s warmer inside.” He gestured toward the foyer.

I hesitantly walked up a few steps. “You’re sure you want me to come inside?” Where was the grumpy scowling man from before?

“I do.” He nodded.

I watched his eyes, waiting for the magic spell to wear off as I slowly stepped into the building.

“May I hang up your coat?” he asked, reaching for my jacket.

I stepped back. “Okay, hold up. Who are you? And where is the man from before?” I tipped my head to the side.

He ran a hand through his brown hair. “I might have overreacted last time.” He shrugged. “This event’s success is paramount for The Brick House, and Cole gets under my skin.”

I eyed him with skepticism, although I could admit that the danger vibes I felt had come from the older man. There was something about the way Muscles ran his hand through his hair that was so familiar .

He looked down at my eyes, holding contact. “I haven’t been at my best. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “It’s been a very long few months.” He held his hand out between us. “Let’s start over. My name is Grant.”

“Grant?” My eyebrows lowered, but I held out my hand. “As in Cary Grant?”

His forehead wrinkled. “Not sure. I didn’t pick it.”

What are the odds?

It would be creepy to say I wished for a Grant, right?

Right.

“I’m Emma.” I shook his hand. I ignored that my hand tingled from his touch.

“Guess both our parents preferred traditional names.” He gestured to a sitting area by the large glass windows.

I walked over to one of the armchairs and sat. Grant followed, sitting in a chair next to mine.

“Were you here before because your mom wanted you to be?”

I flinched. “Um, kinda?”

“Wait.” He held his hands up. “You were looking for a date last time?”

“Not for me. Gross. No!” I shuddered.

“I’m not following.” Grant eased back in the chair, placing his right elbow on the arm of the chair.

“It’s kind of a long story…” I warned him.

He looked at his watch. “Well it looks like you have my attention for the next…twenty-five minutes.” He nodded for me to continue. “I’m all ears.”

I grimaced. “It’s not my ‘proudest moment.’” I used air quotes around the words Mom used earlier.

He chuckled. “Perfect. That’s what I need right now.” He visibly relaxed his shoulders. My breath caught in my throat. He was gorgeous.

“Remind me to not get in your way when you are determined.” He chuckled, then pointed to my rug-burned knees. “What happened there?”

I grimaced. “I might have dived behind the raffle table in an attempt to escape you.” I scrunched my nose remembering the failed attempt.

He tipped his head back with a loud, carefree laugh. “I could not figure out how you got past me.”

His laugh was rich and deep, and I wanted to wrap its warmth around me. He was hot before, but to watch him now without the stiff exterior and his soft smile, I was in awe.

“I still can’t believe you thought I was a gold digger. I wouldn’t date someone old enough to be my father.” I shuddered. “Well, I’m assuming they are old enough to be my father. I didn’t know mine. He left when I was one.”

Grant’s shoulders stiffened. “Sorry about your dad.”

“Don’t be.” I shrugged. “I don’t remember him, so I can’t miss him.”

Grant stared at the floor. “My father passed a few years ago.” His jaw clenched. “I wish I didn’t remember him.” Whatever his relationship with his dad, I was definitely not getting happy-go-lucky vibes.

I tipped my head and watched him as tense air seemed to be pressing down on him. I raised my hand for a high-five. “No-dad club?”

It was crass, but it worked. He rolled his eyes and gave me a soft high-five.

“You don’t have to sit with me. I won’t bother anyone.” I crossed my heart. “I’m sure you are busy.”

“I’m pretty sure my staying with you is in everyone’s best interest.” He shook his head. “You terrified Mr. Hanen last time.” He flashed me his dimple with his carefree smile. The man needed a permit to be flashing it about, it was so disarming.

I looked up to the ceiling trying to remember Mr. Hanen and stop gawking at Grant. “Was he the one who asked to see my feet?”

Grant’s eyes pulled wide. “Someone asked to see your feet?”

I tried to stop the giggle. “Yep. Like my bare feet.” I mimicked vomiting.

“Huh.” He shook his head. One corner of his lips pulled up in a mischievous grin. “So, did you show him your feet?”

“Gross! No!” I swatted him on the shoulder.

“Just checking.” He laughed.

“Okay, it’s your turn.” I tucked my hair behind an ear and crossed my ankles.

“My turn to what?”

“Tell me about you.” I gestured for him to talk.

Grant leaned back and rubbed his hand through his trimmed beard. “Hmm, okay. Let me think.” He tipped his head back. “I have spent far too much time and energy trying to get this business off the ground. I like hard eighties rock like Metallica and AC/DC, salt over sugar,” he paused, “and I have never been called a gold digger.” His lips split into a wide grin, pleased at his joke.

I rolled my eyes.

Wait…

“You like salt over sugar?!” I shook my head in mock sadness. “What kind of monster are you? We can never be friends now.” I held my hand to my heart.

“I think it could work.” Grant shrugged. “I get to eat all the salty and you all the sweet. Seems better that way, then we don’t have to share.” He smiled.

My mouth dropped open. “Huh?” My mind blanked. “I never thought of it that way.”

Grant raised his eyebrows. “See, maybe we could be friends after all.” He winked and folded his hands behind his head and leaned back, closing his eyes. Effectively straining the sleeves of his button-up shirt against his biceps. He obviously left out the part about the gym, I enjoyed the view of his arms as he relaxed.

“Mr. Kelly?”

I startled at an angry voice behind me. I turned and saw Darian Cole, mouth clenched tight and anger radiating off him in waves.

“Mr. Cole,” Grant stood. His back was ramrod straight as he stepped toward him, holding out his hand for a firm handshake. “Good to see you this evening.” All the calm that possessed Grant leaked out of him and he was replaced by something colder and less personable.

The older man returned the handshake, and unless I was mistaken, Cole seemed to tighten his grip as hard as possible.

Grant didn’t flinch.

“I thought we had an understanding?” Mr. Cole gestured in my direction.

I blushed and looked away.

Grant nodded. “Mr. Cole, this is Emma Woods; she is waiting to give her mother a ride home.” Grant gestured to me. “Emma, this is Mr. Darian Cole. He is the man who owns Kismet Silvers.” Grant’s voice was icy.

I wasn’t sure what had shifted in him, but I didn’t like it.

I cleared my throat, “Nice to meet you…again.” I held my hand out to him. Would he squeeze my hand like he had Grant’s?

Mr. Cole scowled at me, ignoring my hand, and then shifted his gaze to Grant. “Mr. Kelly, we have a contract and I expect it to be upheld. The only reason I haven’t pulled my contract is out of respect for your late father and our friendship.”

Grant nodded. “Understood. I assure you. I’m aware of our contract, and it is being upheld.”

Mr. Cole pointed right at me.

Rude.

“The contract states no one under fifty will be allowed to take part in any of the events or mingle with your guests,” Grant repeated robotically. “Emma is waiting in the foyer until after the raffle to give her mother a ride home. I felt it was unnecessary for her to wait in her car.”

“And she isn’t bothering any of the guests?”

“No, sir.”

“She is standing right here,” I muttered under my breath, and Mr. Cole’s dark eyes shifted to me. A chill rushed down my spine.

Grant took a step slightly in front of me, drawing Mr. Cole’s attention. “I assure you, she isn’t bothering anyone.”

“Fine.” Mr. Cole grumbled and pulled his gaze away. “It would be a shame if I had to take my business elsewhere.” He sneered in a way that was clearly a threat. “Now, what about the movie reels I asked for?”

“I haven’t had any luck.” Grant clenched a fist at his side. “I can find digital color remakes of several Cary Grant films but not the old film reels.”

“No.” He growled. “No digital remastered ones. It has to be authentic. Understood?”

Grant nodded. “I understand. I will keep looking.”

Darian Cole offered me one last chilling glare before he stalked off.

I peeked around Grant to make sure Cole was out of earshot. “It’s a shocker that man is single with such a charming personality.”

Grant sighed as he plopped back down in his chair. “I hate working with him.” His fists clenched, and his jaw was tight.

Looks like I needed to change the subject. “What movie reels did you need?”

“What?” Grant shook his head, resurfacing from his anger.

“Something about Cary Grant movie reels?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded the direction Mr. Cole had gone. “He wants authentic movie reels for an event. It can’t be digital.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Where the crap am I supposed to find that?”

“I might have some at The Bees Knees. Do you know what ones you are looking for?”

He tipped his chin toward me. “Where is that? I might have checked there?”

My eyebrows lowered. “Maybe. It’s a vintage thrift store downtown that I work at.” My smile faltered. Wait! Was that where I had seen him before? “Were you in a few weeks ago?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I think so. Just checked real quick and left, I think.”

Thats why I kept thinking he felt familiar. “We get new inventory all the time, so I’m happy to check if you want.” My phone vibrated. I pulled it out of my purse and smiled at my text. “It looks like Mom won the Latin dance class.”

Grant’s forehead creased. “Wait. I thought your mom’s phone wasn’t charged?” He didn’t say a word.

“Maybe she charged it?” I forced a weak smile.

He waited with a raised brow.

“Or…maybe you were part of her payback for me setting her up?” I wrinkled my nose and squinted.

He tipped his chin and grinned. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. A very dangerous and determined tree.”