Wounded Wings (Cupid Chronicles) Read Online Free Page B

think he left here last night and cooked over at the shelter. The man is something else.”
    “Hmmm. Sounds like it.” Michael waved off his change as his eyes tracked Elijah stacking up the dishes just before the waitress moved off to help him and inspiration struck. “Say, why are you two doing that? Don’t you have a bus boy or dishwasher?”
    “Nope. The high school kid we had quit on us last week and we haven’t been able to get anyone else yet.” She gave a half-laugh. “Why? You wanna apply?”
    How hard could it be? He’d hoped to work at a local tattoo studio—his only true human talent—and his heart gave a little tug at the thought of not being able to do that. But this was much better for his assignment. He could be near Elijah every day.
    He smiled at her. “Sure. Where can I get an app—?”
    “Sharla!” she yelled, interrupting him.
    A pretty woman with delicately coiffed gray hair and a hot pink track suit appeared from a back office with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand and a grin. “The place better be on fire for all that hollerin’.” She winked in Michael’s direction and sipped her drink. “On second thought, better not be on fire. What is it, Maura?”
    The petite waitress took her stack of dishes to the counter and nodded in his direction. “He wants to apply for the dishwasher position.” Her pleading eyes spoke volumes.
    Sharla, obviously the owner, turned sharp eyes on him, now appraising him as more than just a customer. He sure hoped she saw more than just a three-hundred pound bald biker. “You do?”
    He stood and approached her with his most charming smile. “Yes, ma’am.” He offered his hand. “Michael Smith.”
    Her surprised gaze darted to Elijah then back as she accepted his handshake. “Michael Smith? A lot of Smiths applying for jobs these days.”
    He smiled, but didn’t respond. How could he explain that angels weren’t very creative with their surnames? Not exactly part of the job description.
    She took him into her sparse office—just a place for her computer, file cabinet, and a simple desk, obviously—where she asked him a few basic questions and had him fill out an application.
    She stumbled a bit when he told her he was fresh from Texas. “What is it with all of you guys coming from out of town?” When he didn’t answer again, she shrugged. “You planning on moving on soon, too?”
    So Elijah was planning to leave? He’d have to move quickly. “No, ma’am. I’m planning on being here as long as I’m needed.”
    “You ever washed dishes before?”
    He shook his head, embarrassed. “Not really. Just at home.”
    “Hmmm . . . I’m not sure if I can take a chance on another mover and shaker that’ll up and split on me. Plus you don’t have any experience.”
    Michael’s heart sank as he saw his chances slipping through his fingers.
    Next to them, Elijah knocked on the door and popped his head in. “Sharla, I’ve finished . . . oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. I didn’t realize you were with someone.”
    She glanced over, then back to Michael. “No problem. We were just finishing up.”
    Michael stood. “Well, thank you for your time, ma’am.” He offered his hand again. “If you change your mind or don’t find anyone else to fill the position, I’ll be around town for a while yet.”
    She stood and took his hand.
    Elijah stood in the door watching their exchange. “Position?”
    Michael caught his eye. Again, something unspoken seemed to pass between them. Just a mere second of unacknowledged brotherhood, perhaps. Maybe something deeper. But whatever it was, Elijah stood his ground in the doorway. “You know, Sharla,” he said. “If it’s the dishwasher position, you might want to reconsider.” He glanced at her with a soft smile. “I mean, I don’t want to step on your toes by any means, but we could really use the help, and he certainly seems like a strong, hard-working guy. Maybe you could give him a trial run like