Page 90 of Ruled By Fate

“You are a brave, intelligent, powerful, compassionate woman of surpassing beauty in body and spirit. You are everything I could have imagined, if I had ever imagined a woman for myself. If such a thing was up to me…” He trailed away with the most heartbreaking look she had ever seen. “But it isn’t. Do you understand?”

It was quiet a moment, then she nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

And I don’t see how I’ll ever recover.

She sat there another moment, then flashed a heartbroken smile herself. “Cameron, let’s get you a chocolate croissant.”

? ? ?

“The other goal, Cameron! You’re going the wrong way!”

The angel turned around and careened in the opposite direction, completely failing to take the ball along with him.

“The ball, you lunatic! Don’t forget the ball!”

Cameron’s research, focused on the wrong kind of football, had led to an excessive use of hands and a flagrant misunderstanding of every single rule in the game. Mike looked for all the world like one of those dads at their child’s ball game who was far too heavily invested in the outcome. Brie could see a vein bulging in his forehead from halfway across the field.

Now, this is quality entertainment.

She was lounging on a lawn chair on the sidelines with Sherry, who was halfway through a glass of something called a Yellowhammer. Her insuppressible friend had smuggled a pitcher of the stuff into the McRyan Athletic Complex. Brie was immensely enjoying both the spectacle of her angel being thoroughly dominated and her best friend’s gradual descent into tipsiness.

She didn’t know what was in the beverage, but based on the rate of Sherry’s giggle escalation over the past twenty minutes, she suspected rum.

“That is a fine-looking collection you’ve assembled,” a cheerful voice rang out behind them. “Where’s the photographer? I have to assume we’re making a calendar.”

“You made it!”

Rashida grinned and sank into the waiting lawn chair. Sherry lifted the pitcher of radioactive-yellow liquid in her direction. “Drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m swinging by the hospital with Brie after this.”

“More for me.” Sherry delightedly topped her glass off and let out a hoot, raising it in the direction of the players. “Shirts and skins, please!” she called.

“Isn’t that basketball?” asked Rashida.

Brie had more pressing concerns. “Sher, that’s half the police force out there. This might not be the ideal place to be drunk and disorderly.”

“Who’s drunk?” Sherry looked at her in mock scandal. “Brie, if you see someone drinking, you should really report them. That’s half the police force out there. Noble officers who are sworn to both serve and protect me. Besides, you know I can handle my liquor better than anybody.”

“You’ve been talking in a British accent for ten minutes.”

“Sod off, ungrateful colonist. I’m trying to watch the game.”

Rashida shot Brie a grin. “Is she always like this?”

“Only when there’s rum involved. She turns into a gentleman pirate.”

“Shirts and skins!” Sherry cupped her hands around her mouth in case they hadn’t heard her the first time. Mike shot her a grin. “I see you, Mitchell. Eyes on the game.”

On the field, Cameron asked curiously, “What is she yelling?”

“She wants our team to take off our shirts,” Mike explained.

Cameron tilted his head in puzzlement. “Is that customary?”

“It is when my girl’s involved.” Mike whipped off his shirt, revealing an impeccably sculpted and blindingly white form underneath.

Sherry started laughing uproariously. “The beacons are lit!”

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