She sat upright with a jolt, not even thinking to take the comforter with her—now that her jugs were enormous, none of her nightgowns fit properly, which left her spilling out of them.
But Khristos averted his eyes like a consummate gentleman. He smiled at her as perfectly as if he hadn’t had the exact amount of sleep she’d had. “It’s time to rise and shine, Goddess of Love. The Love Boat leaves in an hour. So up and at ’em. C’mon, lets hit the showers and carpe diem!”
Her stare was blank when she looked up at him, pushing her long tangle of hair from her face. “I take it you’re a morning person?”
“I’m a whatever-I-have-to-be-to-keep-my-butt-out-of-the-pokey person.”
God. The guilt, followed by the flashes of visions of heinous Greek punishments. “Right. I’m on it. Just give me twenty minutes.” She scrambled upward, this time remembering the comforter, and rose to a standing position. But her bedroom was so small, there was little choice except to end up almost touching.
Her heart pounded hard in her chest as she sucked in her stomach. Wow, he smelled good. In fact, if she were to have a picture in her mind of what a god would look and smell like, Khristos with a K certainly fit the bill.
“There’s coffee right there on the nightstand. Marty made it, and Wanda baked some cinnamon rolls.”
“They actually stayed the night?” All but begging Nina to stay after Aphrodite had shown up, she’d also requested Marty, Ingrid, and Wanda stay, too. She’d even offered to pay them for their services. Not that they would hear of it—except for Nina, who named her price at two-point-two-million. The point-two being for her hoodie fund.
There was something about them as a group, something she innately trusted—needed at this very moment in her life—and she was afraid if they left, she’d miss something she couldn’t define or find the right words to describe.
Warmth spread throughout her limbs. These people didn’t know her, even if they’d talked about her with Ingrid. Yet, they’d targeted her fears and offered a soothing balm of comfort to ease them all because of their relationship to her friend.
They were really good at this OOPS thing.
Khristos nodded, sticking his hands in the pockets of his pants “They did. I only know of them through Nina, but they’re exactly as she described. Well, almost. I don’t find Marty at all offensive when she recommends colors that are in my color wheel.” He yanked a hand from his jeans and circled his face just the way Marty had last night when she’d explained what a color wheel was.
Quinn giggled. “I can’t believe she owns Bobbie-Sue Cosmetics and her husband owns Pack Cosmetics. Talk about the Jets and the Sharks.”
“They’re good people. They’ll protect you from me.”
Her cheeks went bright red; she felt the flush of them. “I…I’m sorry. It’s just that—”
“That I’m a stranger. I’m not offended by that either. Anyway, wasn’t sure if you were a New York Times reader or whatever, but I know you love to read, if the mountain of books versus actual food in your kitchen pantry is any indication. So I went out and bought a slew of reading material, just in case it’s what you do in the mornings.” He pointed to the stack of newspapers he’d set right under her white lamp with the ruffled lampshade.
He was so nice. So considerate. Sweet, in fact. Her heart clenched, and then she froze and took a deep breath.
This would not happen. No way was she going to let any warm feelings for this man creep into her heart. Absolutely not. He was her teacher and she was his student.
Grasshopper and sensei. Coach and football player.
“Do you have to call in to work? Will anyone worry if you don’t show up?”
Ugh. Work. She loved her job because she could drown herself in books. But how would she ever explain her hooters? Thankfully, she had plenty of time to figure it out.
“No. I had a ton of vacation saved up. The plan was to spend two weeks in Greece and then come home…” Engaged and wildly in love. “And spend the next couple of weeks looking for an apartment.”
Together. Jesus, she was an idiot. Had she even consulted Igor about any of the dreams she’d spun in her head? Had she ever once considered he’d say no to her proposal, let alone agree to move into a new place with her?
“Good to know.”
“I have another question. If I’m in charge of all this matchmaking and procreation and whatever else I’ve managed to commit myself to in my absurd efforts to save your homeland, how do I do it? I mean, do goddesses of love ever sleep? How can I be everywhere? I’m not just the Goddess of Love of New York, am I? Did I only win that tiara at the pageant—or am I holding the world crown?”
“You’ve got the world crown, but eventually you’ll be able to do this in your sleep—literally. Your command to make a match will happen as effortlessly as you breathe.”
“Then why do I need these lessons you keep insisting I need?”
“Honestly?”