“You’re not kidnapping me, are ya?” Maybelle asked after a long journey through the mansion, jutting her hip and crossing her arms as her dress swished near her calves. Michael simply gave her a wink.
“If only I could.”
Gosh, he sure was good with the one-liners. “Well, you should warn a girl before so much cardio. My piggies are barkin’.”
He tossed his head back with laughter and stopped, making her bump into his back. He was a stone wall of muscle and man, and her thoughts vacated her head momentarily.
“Think you can make it twenty more feet?” he teased. “Or should I carry you?”
“You should definitely carry me.”
She never thought he would. She’d never been the girl to be carried. When she pictured her wedding day, she didn’t imagine her husband plucking her up like she was light as air because she simply wasn’t. She was a good size sixteen wide hip and special order size undergarment. So when Michael swept an arm under her knees and she fell back into his hold, her stomach was left somewhere on the floor.
“Oh!” she squealed, grasping for his neck, hot flames licking her skin. “Sweet Mary and Joseph, you don’t have to—”
“Your pigs were barking,” he said, his voice vibrating through his chest, beating in the palm of her hand. “From what I hear, that’s not the noise they make, so I was concerned.”
Her feet did ache, but that sensation was drowned out by the worry that he would soon regret this decision. Did he normally carry this much weight? She honestly didn’t think so, no matter how buff he was.
His steps fell heavy against the wood floor, an easy grin on his face. She took the opportunity to admire his features while they were so close—the small curls in his dark facial hair, precision in the trimming that told her it was part of a daily routine. His lips were pink against his dark skin, full and wide, and she bit her own, wondering how it would be to be kissed by lips like that.
He spun around as they neared a door, then pushed it open with his back. Maybelle curled in closer so her head didn’t get taken off by a doorframe. His skin smelled of honey and citrus, and she wondered what he’d had for lunch because she could go for some.
“Okay,” he said, facing them out, the sun piercing through the clouds. Maybelle squinted, tempted to shade her eyes but didn’t want to drop her hold on Michael. What if that small movement was the straw that broke the camel’s back and she fell straight to her rear-end?
“Okay…” she said, eyes still adjusting. The sun reflected off a glassy fountain, rays skewing off in every direction, rainbows dancing across the surface. She gave him a smile and wriggled enough to make him set her to her feet. “It’s gorgeous.”
He chuckled deeply and set a large hand on her chin, delicately nudging her gaze to just beyond the extravagant fountains.
Her stomach leaped. “Oooooh.”
“I thought you might want to see him in person.”
She set a grateful and touched hand on his arm, then crossed around the water to the life size statue, the marble glinting in the sun. The young god looked masculine and stoic, standing with his arrow poised, a quiver hung low on his hip, a robe exposing a smooth and chiseled chest. She tilted her head, tempted to run her fingers along one of the angel feathers jutting from his back.
“He’s a lot more… grown up than I imagined.” She laughed. Michael came up beside her.
“Well, this is Eros, not Cupid. You won’t see a mischievous little baby with wings around here.”
“Mischievous?” She reached for his elbow, stroking a single finger across the marble. “Maybe Cupid is the one hanging around Alabama.”
“Whatever helps you feel better.”
She gave him a good back-handed smack to the stomach. He pretended it hurt, but it couldn’t possibly have. There was way too much amusement in his eyes.
“Do you know the difference?” he asked, nodding up at the statue. “Between the two.”
“One is Greek, the other is Roman.”
“Yeah, but there’s a bit more to it than that.”
She waved at the handsome display she never would’ve thought to associate with the god of love she’d grown up picturing. “Obviously.”
He chuckled. “Well, besides their looks, Eros is a bit more about love than lust, while Cupid’s got the reputation of picking on us humans.”
“Making us fall for people who won’t love us back?”
“Not exactly. Just wound us with his arrows.”
She pointed at the quiver. “Seems like this guy knows how to wound us, too.”
He circled around the statue, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He had no qualms about touching the statue, so Maybelle took that as an okay to poke at one of the arrow tips. “They both had two kinds of arrows—lead and gold. Cupid may have been the god of love, but it was said that he shot arrows of lust and distaste, while Eros shot ones of love and indifference.”
“That’s quite the distinction.” She dropped her hand and looked up into the face of the Greek god. “Though indifference seems much more painful than distaste.”
“How do you figure?”
“It’s easy to forget about someone who obviously doesn’t like you. Not so much with someone who treats you like a friend but feels nothing for you.”
He raised a thick brow and ducked under the statue’s arm, closing the gap between them. “You got some experience in that?”
“More than I care to admit.”
He was quiet for a beat. “That seems insane.” He settled a hand on hers as she played with the stone arrows. “I can’t imagine anyone feeling indifferent to someone like you.”
Heat rushed through her chest, and she laughed off the compliment. “You tell all the girls that?”
“Just you.” He smirked.
She looked down at his hand on hers, butterflies flapping their little wings in the pit of her stomach. “Careful, Michael. You could get a girl thinking she might have a chance with ya.”
He let out a long, exaggerated sigh of relief. “Oh good. I was afraid I was being too subtle.”
If she had been blushing before, it was nothing compared to what spread through her cheeks then. She ripped her eyes away and got caught up in the rainbows dancing along the fountains. Getting a man interested had been her only battle in her dating years, and Michael had known her all of twenty-four hours and laid it out there for her to take. She subconsciously looked around for Will, needing him to come intervene, because by golly, she was ready and willing to take Michael’s hand and run off into the sunset, no matter what his thoughts on marriage and children.
He must’ve sensed her dilemma, because he broke the silence and let go of her hand, using Eros’s abs to hold himself up. “Plans tonight?”
“Sorry?”
“Do you have plans tonight?”
“I think my entire stay is planned, ain’t it?”
“I meant after the act. One I should really be more active in right now or I’m gonna get the boot.”
She let out a laugh. “Winter doesn’t seem like the type to fire anyone.”
“You’d be surprised.” He grinned and straightened, tucking his large hands into his pockets. “Tell you what… you wanna mystery solve, head to the gardens tonight after dinner.” His gaze dropped to her hands briefly before locking on her eyes. “Or if you want to see if maybe you got what you came for, head to the third floor.”
“Floor three is off limits to guests.”
He reached for her hand and pressed a keycard into her palm, the corners pushing into her fair skin. “Just wave this over that black screen. Should get you there.”
She bit her lip, debating on closing her hand over the card. “Is this a booty call?” she asked, irritation lacing her voice. “’Cause I ain’t into that, mister, and I oughtta throw this key card into that fountain over there.”
His laughter shook the statue. “Maybelle, I promise I’m interested in more than just… ‘booty.’ I would just like to spend some time with you outside of the act I’ve got to play, and should be playing right now.”
She studied his eyes, making sure this wasn’t just another line he was throwing her way. There was a spark between them, for sure, and she knew she felt it. She knew that this was something different, something new, something exciting. Was it better than what she felt toward Garreth? She wasn’t sure yet. Garreth was familiar in a way, and she hesitated pushing at it. Michael was completely out of her wheelhouse, straightforward in what he wanted, in his attraction toward her. The only problem was she wasn’t sure if what she wanted and what he wanted would line up together.
She wrapped the card up and held it close, offering up a playful smile. “I s’pose we’ll see where I end up tonight.” The gardens with Garreth or the third floor with Michael. If she played her cards right, maybe she wouldn’t have to choose at all.