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Her wife’s voice interrupted her train of thought.

“This is very much an order to un-retire.”

At Abby’s blank stare, Sabine turned in her arms and simply handed her the phone. There in black on white—would Sabineever step into the 21st century and use dark mode—was a text message.

“Be in Vegas during the usual week in February. You have two months to dust off your quiver and WIN The Queen Of Perfect Match title again. Zeus and the whole damn family will be there. DO NOT embarrass me, Sabine. Bring Abby. I’ll need jokes and a drinking partner.”

“Well, at least I am good for something.” Abby handed back the phone and grinned.

Her attempt at levity did not succeed, as Sabine closed her eyes and laid her forehead against Abby’s.

“You know she doesn’t mean it like that. But damn her for thinking she can just yank my chain and drag me back into that whole business. The complete and utter lack of respect for my choices and my life is… Damn. What do I care if Zeus and the rest of those numpties will be there?”

Calling the Olympians “numpties” didn’t bode very well for anyone involved and so therewouldbe lots of drinking and jokes once they got to Vegas, Abby thought.

She lingered in the warm embrace for a moment longer, enjoying how their bodies fit like two pieces of a puzzle. But Sabine was clearly upset and, more than her closeness, Abby knew she needed coffee and a plan of action. The ever-rational and organized soul that was her wife always functioned better with sustenance and a contingency strategy.

She took Sabine’s hand and drew her through their wide open living room to the breakfast nook, where Orange and Brownie, their slothful and very chonky cats, lounged. As she seated Sabine on the satin-covered bench, their black lab, Sir Emerson Blackmore III, as always sensing his mistress’s distress, carefully laid his enormous head with those silky ears into Sabine’s lap. Abby pressed the sequence of buttons on the coffeemaker. If the cats noticed the tension in the air at all,they attached exactly zero importance to it as they continued to lounge on their cushions.

“Zeus and the family?” As a cupid who’d graduated from the Academy five years ago, Abby was somewhat familiar with the workings of the Olympus machinery, but only distantly. Apollo had been her professor once upon a time and she was good friends with some of the muses, especially Melpomene, what with their joint theater ventures.

But other than that, Abby mostly just did her cupid duty and stayed out of the fray. The internal politics and bitchery that surrounded the gods were a little confusing and generally too murky for her. Never one to go looking for trouble, unless it was to follow her wife, Abby would rather not get involved.

Looked like her days of staying out of the Olympic mess were over though.

“I don’t think you’ve met Zeus, have you?” Sabine absently scratched under Orange’s ear. “These days, he’s an oil magnate obsessed with boats. I guess he’s never shown up in Vegas before because he can’t steer his latest mega-yacht there.”

“What’s he like?” At the sound of the coffeemaker, Abby poured two mugs, splashing cream into hers and made a face at Sabine’s bitter black.

“Eccentric, funny, total asshole. Sometimes loveable, more often—not at all. Pretty much what you read about him in the myths and legends of Ancient Greece. He has not changed, and I don’t think he ever will. Chases every skirt, has progeny everywhere. Is confused about what morality is.”

“Sounds like an upstanding dude.”

“Not by a long shot, no. Still, with him, what you see is what you get, even if his motives and scheming are constant. But youknowhe’s always up to something. There’s no pretense, no fake innocence or pretentious manner. Zeus knows he’s a jerk. He isn’t hiding it. And he mostly just lives his life—well, his eternallife. He’s making tons of money and sailing his latest boat monstrosity from one corner of whichever ocean to another.”

“Why would he come to Vegas? I mean, why would he be there for the Cupids Convention? Isn’t thatnothis domain?” Abby sipped her coffee and felt slightly more alert, a myriad of questions on her mind now.

“He usually doesn’t. Once in a very rare while, some god or other type of celestial fool reminds him that he is the head of the family. A big, dysfunctional family. And he puffs up his chest to prove to everyone that he still rules the roost.” The cat, awoken by Sabine’s caresses, purred like a freight train.

“Does he? Rule the roost?”

“Maybe in his dreams? Since his divorce from Hera, he has really stepped back from meddling in the business of the various gods and goddesses. They have pretty much done as they pleased for centuries, with an occasional bout of chest-puffing and grandstanding from the old coot.”

“So why is Aphrodite so demanding now? Why does it matter that he and the family, whomever that entails, will be in Vegas?”

“That is indeed the question. Perhaps he is checking up on her? Perhaps he is doing his once-in-a-century round of ‘gotta keep tabs on them kids’? Even if she isn’t his child. Or perhaps something else crawled up her excellent butt? Who knows at this point? But it’s mighty presumptuous of her to think that she can just trot me out there like a prize pony to show off to her nitwit relatives.”

Abby laughed, and Sabine just shook her head. “They really are a nitwit bunch, darling. You’ll see.”

“So we are going then? In two months? And you’ll resume your cupid duties in the meantime?” She felt a small tension wrinkle appear on her forehead and Sabine confirmed it by reaching out her fingers, the same ones that had just been making the cat purr in ecstasy, to smooth it out. Orange allbut growled in frustration at said fingers being taken away and gave Abby the stink eye before curling his tail in the air and swaggering off.

“Retired or not, I am still a cupid, and she is still the Goddess of Love. So I have to obey. But wouldn’t you agree the message is rather vague? The order, per se, imprecise?” The fingers moved from Abby’s forehead to cup her cheek, the thumb slowly tracing her lower lip, setting off sparks in its wake. And the low, suggestive, decidedly devious tone of voice was doing wonders for other places on Abby’s body.

“You mean…” She sucked in a breath, then sucked in Sabine’s thumb, whose other hand snuck under Abby’s robe and found her ready and very, very willing.

“I mean…” Sabine’s voice now sounded near her ear, as that wicked mouth was working its magic on her jaw. “That Aphrodite plays her games. But I am still The Queen Of The Perfect Match and I can play mine…”

“So, what are you going to do? Do you have a plan?” Abby could hear the plea in her own question since the fingers on her skin were too tender and now avoiding any place that would give her true respite.