Page 50 of Ruled By Fate

Sherry nodded thoughtfully, swirling a drink of her own. “Well, I understand why you’d get swept up in the romance of it all. He’s very dreamy.”

It was a hard point to refute.

The angel stood a head taller than nearly everyone around him, emanating a radiance so out of place in the little dive bar that it was well and truly absurd.

“I mean, it’s like somebody gift-wrapped a fantasy and dropped him right into your lap,” Sherry mused. “But I have to ask — and tell me if I’m out of line here — how much do you actually know about him? He seems nice, don’t get me wrong. But he’s also a little…”

In a rather odd bit of timing, Cameron found himself swept away in the general spirit of the place and started singing a sea shanty that likely hadn’t been heard since the 1800s.

At first, his fellow patrons looked at each other in acute embarrassment, wondering if someone should do the responsible thing and confiscate his keys. Still, by his second time through the chorus, they’d all hoisted their drinks aloft and joined in, stomping their feet on the ground in rhythm and chanting about “bully boys,” whatever those were. The song seemed to speak to some primordial part of Mike’s Irish roots. He was sloshing a tankard of beer around like he was on a pirate ship, singing at the top of his lungs and having the time of his life.

Between the wine at The Grey Duck and the multiple sidecars and beers the bartender had supplied, the girlfriends were in no condition to process the scene. They merely laughed with the rest, holding onto the counter for balance, tears running down the sides of their faces.

When at last they quieted down, Brie turned to Sherry, a flush of color still splashed across her cheeks. “Not enough, Sher. I don’t know him nearly well enough. But I’m working on it.”

Sherry dabbed at her eyeliner, still grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll say this for him, Brie. The man knows how to turn a party. I’m going to find Mike and grab us a seat. Who gave him that glass, anyway? He’s going to put someone’s eye out.”

Sherry went to search for her boyfriend as the bar patrons broke into a round of cheers as the song ended. Many made their way back to the bar, where Brie had climbed precariously onto one of the stools and was spinning herself happily back and forth.

One of the customers jostled against her, nearly tipping her off her seat. “Oops, sorry. Oh, hello there.”

The intoxicated man attempted to right himself, but ended up leaning heavily on the bar, well inside her personal space. He inhaled and ran a hand through his hair, looking at her hungrily. “Hav’ you ever been arrested?”

She blinked in surprise, trying to keep him in focus. “Excuse me?”

“Have you ever been arrested?” he repeated. “Because it must’ve hurt when you fell from the sky.” He stopped and squinted, vaguely aware he’d made a mistake. “From Heaven,” he amended, nodding with satisfaction.

She gave him a pitying look. “Okay, buddy. I think you’ve had a few too many. This?” She drew a circle in the air with her finger, indicating the two of them. “This isn’t going to happen. Go back to your friends.”

She’d already turned her attention to the bar when he grabbed her by the shoulder and tried to spin her around. “Hey, wait a minute. You didn’t tell me your name.”

She wasn’t exactly in fighting form, but she was having none of this. “Don’t touch me.”

He put his hand on her arm again. “I jus’ wanna—”

There was a streak of color, and a chocolate curl blew back from her face.

Just like that, Cameron was standing in between them. His face was calm, but his eyes were all kinds of angry, focusing on the man in a way that suddenly reminded Brie he was able to shoot lightning bolts from his hands. “The lady told you not to touch her.”

The drunk leaned back, half-convinced he must be dreaming. “Whoa, whoa! I was jus’ trying to—”

“Don’t.” Cameron leaned ever so slightly closer, simmering with a quiet rage. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Mr. Pratchett. Mr. Jason Pratchett.”

He leaned closer still and whispered something unintelligible in the man’s ear.

Jason Pratchett started to tremble uncontrollably. He dropped his beer and practically ran to the bathroom, looking like he was going to be sick. In a strange way, it reminded Brie of the way Denise had inexplicably calmed her raging patient, silencing him with a few memorable words.

“What did you say to him?”

Those piercing eyes flashed her way, then gentled immediately upon seeing her. A moment later, they were the same as always, twinkling down at her with a mischievous look. “A gentleman never tells.”

“Oh, come on. Tell me.”

“Guilt is a powerful emotion to prey upon,” he answered vaguely. “And the guy looked like the type to have something on his conscience.”

She considered this a drunken moment, before gazing up at him once more.

“That’s smart,” she mused, trying not to slur. “You’re smart, you know that? And you’re adorable. And… and I liked that song you sang about the fishes.”

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