Red Hot Valentine: Falling for Cupid

Red Hot Valentine:
FALLING FOR CUPID

A Red Hot Valentine Title

Christin Lovell

—

FALLING FOR CUPID

Copyright © 2014 by Christin M Lovell

Cover Image
© CURAphotography

This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or
distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission
from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy
of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All characters and storylines are the
property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and
not intended by the author.

—

Falling for Cupid

Cupid Valentine, a.k.a.
Coop, is the worst divorce attorney in the entire Southeast.
Ninety-eight percent of his clients reconcile before the gavel hits
the block. He's dedicated his life to love; yet he's never
experienced it for himself...until Daisy.
Plus size Daisy and her best friend, Brad, made a pact when they
were younger: if they weren't married by thirty, they'd marry each
other. Two years later, they've learned that love has many forms,
and a passionate love is needed to have a fulfilling
relationship.
The pair confounds Coop. His job has always been to repair
relationships, but what happens when he suddenly finds himself
rooting for the opposite of all he stands for? He does what any
smart Cupid would do and flies away. But you can only escape
Cupid's arrow for so long, even if you happen to be
Cupid.

—

Falling for Cupid

Chapter One

October
24
^th

Daisy

My feet were barking in my shoes. They were
going to hate me by the end of the day. Truth be told, high heels
were made for the skinnies of the world, but I couldn’t resist how
they elongated and slimmed my short, extra plump legs, particularly
in the light wash, ripped and rugged skinny jeans I wore. The high
heeled, grey suede booties I donned, with the V-shaped top, looked
identical to a high-end pair I dreamed about but could never
afford. A forgiving hot pink tank top beneath a hunter green
military style blazer with a long, elegant silver necklace layered
atop blended several styles in my one ensemble.

But that’s what I enjoyed. I didn’t box
myself in. My clients knew me as a trend-defying master. I mixed
and matched Bohemian with Hampton chic, vintage glam with rocker,
retro with trendy every day. I believed no one should confine to
one label but rather use many labels to define themselves. What
you’re wearing is always the first impression you make, and I
enjoyed surprising others. After all, the last thing my size two
millionaire nightmare was expecting this morning was a size
twenty-two fashionista claiming to be her new personal shopper and
temporary stylist. Apparently she’d expected another size two with
a toned down outfit, although she conceded, “I suppose you don’t
have to look good so long as you make me look good, but I cannot in
good taste offer you referrals as you are.”

Yup. That was how I started
my morning. I then spent the next five hours combing two out of her
three closets as she sipped imported water from a plush chair an
assistant relocated to each closet, so she could ensure I didn’t
steal or damage anything. At noon she consumed a small salad with
no dressing and at two I excused myself, promising to return and go
through her third closet, which she claimed was the largest.
God help me.

It was common practice to get a sense of
their style, learn their sizes with different brands, and to avoid
purchasing something they already owned. What was taking me so long
was she wanted an entire outfit that was unlike anything she
currently owned. There could be no similarities, which was going to
be a challenge given all she had…

It felt good to sit down in my car after
standing so long without a break. My arms ached from sliding
hangers, holding out items and reaching for accessories all day,
and it was far from over. My legs and feet practically sang their
gratitude for the reprieve the entire drive to the coffee shop in
downtown. All too quickly I found street parking and was back on my
feet walking towards the shop.

The air was crisp and cool despite the sun’s
efforts. Living in a high end, small sized Florida beach town had
its ups and downs. Ups? It was sunny year round, which meant it was
busy and booming with tourists and potential clients year round. I
had a steady stream of corporate wives and small time celebrities
seeking me out for charity functions, golf tournaments and vacation
chic ensembles upon arrival. I enjoyed shopping and making my
clients look amazing, no matter their budget.

Downs? My own budget was far smaller than
theirs, which meant I shopped boutiques for them and bargains for
myself. On occasion, Paleo, a local designer extraordinaire, gave
me a generous discount for bringing him more customers. Too bad I
could only use it for accessories, for he only designed up to a
size ten, and incessantly pestering him to expand his line hadn’t
helped over the years. He claimed, “Not all fat women are as
fabulous as you, my dear. I would not want my name tarnished with
elastic waistlines.” I tried not to be offended for all the plus
size women around the world at that moment, but it was
difficult.

The bottom line was I lived far below the
standards of most of my clients. Yes I lived on the beach, but I
lived in a studio apartment with an ocean view you had to crook
your neck for.

Also, as much as I loved the sun, I hated
being a big girl in July. I broke more fat girl rules during summer
than any other time of year. You couldn’t pay me to wear pants or
even capris in Florida during summer. I got many a disappointing
glare, but I couldn’t care less. I rocked soft, yet structured
black shorts that barely grazed mid-thigh with a loose grey cotton
tank, a necklace to glam it up and open-toed neon yellow pumps for
edge. I would never apologize for my size or for dressing it as I
would a size two. I ensured it was flattering and most of my
unflattering-to-the-masses bits were covered.

I cringed as I rounded the corner to the
coffee shop. Brad stood outside the door, clearly waiting for me
with his arm around Lisa.

Brad and I had been best friends for as long
as I could remember. It seemed like any time off I had was spent
with him, or him and Lisa. We had this amazing bond everyone
claimed jealousy over. So when we both turned thirty and were still
single, we took the plunge and got married, fulfilling our long ago
pact.

And we were happy…mostly…except in the
bedroom. It was all vanilla and no passion. We loved each other,
but not like that.

We were content though…until Brad met Lisa. I
adored the petite blonde. She’s warm and friendly, if a bit shy,
but she’s always genuine. She made it impossible for me to hate
her, especially since Brad was smiling wider than ever. He had a
steady glow about him since the day he first laid eyes on her.

And that’s why I cringed. If I couldn’t make
my best friend happy, what chance did I have with anyone else?
Suddenly, I found myself losing my husband and best friend, and no
matter how happy I was for him, it didn’t ease the bit of sadness
that seemed a permanent stone in my chest.

Brad waved emphatically as I approached. “You
look like hell,” he said, pulling me in for a hug.

He, of course, looked impeccable in khaki
board shorts and a blue polo that matched his eyes. He was the
all-American boy: surfer blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, an athletic
build and a smile that could charm the panties off a nun. He was a
catch with looks and personality. But there had always been that
brotherly aspect. I didn’t daydream about stripping him and dipping
him in chocolate like every other woman seemed to…which was a tad
disappointing. I’d often wished I could somehow flip the
switch.

I slapped him on the arm as I pulled away.
“You never tell a woman she looks like hell, even if she does. No
wonder it took you so long to wrangle a woman.” I shook my head in
dismay.

I took a step towards Lisa and hugged her
tiny frame. “Don’t let him get away with that crap.”

She laughed, squeezing me gently before
letting go. “Oh I don’t. I planned to give him an earful later for
that line. I thought it would be impolite to make a scene in
public.”

Yup. I couldn’t help but love her. “Still do
it.” I winked.

Brad frowned. “I don’t know if I like you two
together.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, hush and open the door
for us like a gentleman.”

He harrumphed. “Aren’t you two supposed to
hate each other’s guts?” He held the door for me.

“
Please, there’s nothing
normal about this tryst.” I sashayed past him, grabbing Lisa’s hand
and dragging her ahead of him with me.

She giggled. “He doesn’t let me get away with
half the stuff you do.” She tried to play it off, but I heard her
unease.

I glanced sideways at her, stopping in my
tracks. Big brown eyes met my own. I understood her vulnerability
because I myself felt it at times with Brad and her. It wasn’t
jealousy, but it still centered around fear. “That’s because he
doesn’t love me the way he does you. Siblings beat the shit out of
each other and act as if nothing happened the next day, but you
wouldn’t dare do that with your significant other. It’s a different
dynamic with its own set of rules. Trust me when I say you have
nothing to worry about, Lis.”

A grin split her face. She still had cute
features. In truth, she was cute all over at twenty-three. “My mom
swore up and down that Brad was lying through his teeth when he
said his current wife knew about us, supported the whole affair and
would divorce him when we were ready to get serious.”

I pursed my lips, ever so slightly turning my
nose up. “Looks like we showed her.”

Lisa’s eyes danced with amusement. “She about
fell out of her chair when you said it was true.”

A couple months in, Brad had gone to meet
Lisa’s parents. I’d called to see how everything was going and to
ensure what Lis’ mom made was edible and he wouldn’t want something
at home later. Apparently the shit hit the fan when they saw his
wedding ring, which he still wore - and insisted I wear. Brad was
anything but dishonest.

When she learned who was on the phone, she
snatched it from him and blurted, “Do you know where your husband
is?”

I promptly replied, “Meeting his girlfriend’s
parents. And, for the record, he told me the day he met Lisa that
she was different and he wanted to pursue her. We haven’t been
intimate since weeks prior to that day and I’ve been nothing but
supportive because they make each other happy. As his best friend,
I want him to be happy. Please tell Brad I will see him home later.
I hope you all have a pleasant evening.”

She stuttered and mumbled something before
hanging up. Brad gave me an extra big hug that night and then
relayed everything from his side.

Yeah, this situation was anything but normal.
I loved Brad, not passionately, yet I would still mourn the loss of
him as a husband; only because I was lonely though. The more time
he spent with Lisa, the more I realized he was practically my only
friend.

“
There he is.” Brad forced
his way between Lisa and me and pointed to a table in the corner.
It was still in the open, yet eluded to privacy, as much as one
could get in public.

My gaze stumbled as a pair of crystal clear
not-quite-green yet not-quite-blue eyes met mine. Butterflies
fluttered in my belly; it felt like faery dust was tickling my
flesh. He literally stopped me in my tracks.

Dark brown hair touched his brow and my
fingers itched to push it back. I couldn’t seem to break away.
There was something in his depths that held me in place, that
revved my engine and warmed me to the toes, that had me helplessly
melting into a puddle right where I stood.

I don’t know how long I stood there, looking
like an idiot I’m sure, before Brad interrupted.

“
Earth to
Daisy!”

I blinked in rapid succession as his hand
passed in front of my face. I cut my eyes at him and smacked his
hand away.

He laughed easily. “Oh, come on. I’m hotter
than him, and you’ve never gone goo-goo for me.”

I scrunched my nose. “That’s because I know
you.”

“
Well, damn. Way to set my
heart aflame.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “More like your ego,
but I’m sure Lisa will pour water on it.” I winked back at him as I
strolled up to the counter and ordered a cappuccino.

They followed behind me, each ordering
something different.