Well, they were further than that, Greta realized when she saw her mother’s Nook ebook reader on the counter. With a bit of a stretch, she reached for it and opened the blue leather case.
“Yes, she’s here,” her mother said.
Greta froze. “What is it?”
“I’ll send her right away.”
“Mom?” Greta asked.
Her mother hung up the phone. “I guess your boyfriend started a fight with Scott Coleman down at Lafferty’s Pub.”
Greta’s eyes about fell out. She didn’t quite comprehend what the woman said.
My boyfriend?
Bruce?
Is fighting Scott Coleman?
“Well?” he mother snapped. “What are you doing sitting there? Get down there, girl.”
Greta nodded, grabbed her purse off the couch and headed to her car.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bruce didn’t walk into the little pub down the street from Greta’s with the intention of getting into a fight.
He just wanted a beer.
That’s it.
A beer.
And a moment to think.
Because, well, he’d gone and done what his Fairy Godmother had wanted him to do. It was supposed to be this big, grand gesture to get Greta to see he wasn’t totally an asshole. And she still sent him away.
He’d hoped, running to the local pub, he’d get a beer—and after he’d had one, she’d call, and they’d make up, and be back on track again.
That’s all he’d intended.
But then Scott Coleman had come in. Bruce didn’t have to hear the guy’s name to know he had to be the one who screwed up Greta. He had that swagger. The arrogant, entitled syndrome.
Bruce put on his happy face, and things were okay.
At first.
Then Bruce slipped up. He said Greta was his girlfriend. Maybe it was a slip, maybe some subconscious part of himself wanted to see what this guy would say.
He didn’t disappoint. Coleman called Greta “dogface.”
And the next thing Bruce knew, he had the bastard on the ground, tied up in a wrestling combination, leaving Coleman immobile.
Well, not completely. The guy tried to bite Bruce.
Tried.
Bruce head-butted him and broke his nose. Blood went everywhere.
It was at that point, the police yanked Bruce off Scott.
Scott started screaming for the police to arrest Bruce. One officer held Scott, bloody faced, and his nose already swelling. The other held Bruce—for a second, anyway. Bruce didn’t try to jerk away, and the officer released his hard hold, instead keeping a hand on Bruce’s arm. Bruce remained fairly calm, barely even panting after the altercation. He rubbed his forehead, and pulled his hand back, seeing Coleman’s blood on it.
“Dude’s a bleeder,” Bruce muttered.
“Always was,” the officer next to Bruce said, under his breath.
“You’re going to hear from my lawyer! I want to press charges! Lonnie, this guy attacked me! You saw it, Donna!” Coleman turned to the bartender.
The bartender didn’t even act like she heard anything, instead cleaning up the spilled beer on the bar.
Bruce realized he’d smashed a barstool and a table. He didn’t even realize he’d done it.
“Bruce?”
He turned to the door.
At the entrance, Greta stepped inside, the sunlight shining all around her. She looked amazing. Ethereal. He wished he had a camera.
Bruce smiled. “Hi.”
“Oh my God.” She charged toward Bruce. “What happened?” She pulled a tissue out of her purse and started patting at the blood on his face.
“Your fucking boyfriend attacked me, you whore,” Coleman yelled, struggling against the officer holding him.
Bruce took a step forward. The police officer grabbed Bruce before he could get any closer. His fist clenched, ready to take a swing.
Greta put her hand on Bruce, and he stilled. “What happened?”
“I don’t like it when people call you names,” Bruce said.
Greta glanced over her shoulder at the bar, and at Scott. “I guess not.”
“This bastard’s going to jail!” Coleman yelled again.
The officer next to Bruce turned to the other policeman. “Put him in the drunk tank. Think he needs to cool off.”
They moved out of the way as the officer hauled Coleman out of the bar.
“You all saw it! I know you did. I’m going to sue this bastard. He’s going to jail!” Coleman bellowed.
“I didn’t see anything,” Donna, the bartender, said.
The policeman next to Bruce nudged him. “You love her?”
Without thinking, Bruce answered. “Yes. I do.”
Greta gasped.
The officer nodded. He put his hand on Greta’s arm. “I didn’t see anything either.” He turned and left the bar.
“Thanks, Lonnie.” Tears welled in Greta’s eyes, and she wiped them away.
Bruce pulled Greta into his arms and held her close.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I was horrible. I had no right. You deserve so much better than me.”
“You’re right. You were horrible.” Greta leaned back. “But you tried to make it better.”
“And look how well that’s worked out for me.”
She smirked. “I’m glad that’s his blood and not yours. What did you do to him?”
“I really don’t remember.”
“You threw him on the ground, faster than anything I’d ever seen before.” Donna said. “What’d you do, wrestle as a kid or something?”
Bruce smirked. “Yeah. About twenty years.”
Donna nodded. “I got a nephew that wrestled, who’s about your age now. He was good. David Washington? Know him?”
“Yeah, I did. He was good. What was he, two-time state champ?”
“Three time,” Donna said, puffing out her chest.
Bruce grinned. “Ahh, that was it.” He looked over the bar, at the damage he’d done to the little pub. “I’m sorry. I can pay for the damages.”
Donna held up her hand. “I may leave it as a memorial. Someone finally beat the shit out of that asshole.”
The couple of other patrons in the bar burst out laughing, and Bruce and Greta joined in.
Lilly wiped her brow as she stood on the sidewalk. Full-human sized, but invisible to anyone but her charge. He saw her out of the corner of his slightly puffy eye, and gave her a half-hearted smile.
This wasn’t what she’d planned, but from the way Greta and Bruce’s auras merged into each other, this fight probably brought them together better than him burning the pictures.
Though Bruce needed to do that on general principle.
She watched Bruce climb into his SUV and follow Greta.
“Beyond belief, I think you may have done it.”
Lilly spun around, spitting gold dust everywhere. “Andres!”
He smiled, though it didn’t seem the most congratulatory smile possible. And for the first time ever, his simple silver suit looked, well, rumpled. Not at all very Andres.
The more Lilly examined him, the more she noticed. His wings were ruffled, his shoes imperfect. Even his dark hair, usually slicked back, had pieces falling in his face.
He’d been rushed.
What on earth would Andres rush for?
“Yes, I think their HEA is within reach now.” He brushed his hair back, and attempted to smooth his suit lapel down.
She crossed her arms. “I told you I could do it.”
“Yes, you did.” He let out a sigh. “I am sorry I doubted you.”
“You should be,” she replied.
“We have much to discuss,” Andres said. “If you w
ould—”
“Hello there, Miss Lilly Bloom,” Cupid said, his voice oily with glee. Today he was dressed in a business suit. A black one. With a gold tie.
Exactly the same color gold as her magic.
Gulp. His business proposition. He would want to know my answer…
“Cupid, you are not needed here. We are attending to Fairy business,” Andres said.
“Oh, but I am here on business.” He stroked his tie and winked at Lilly. “Now that her case is done, Lilly is coming to work for me.”
“What?”
“Now wait a minute, Cupid. I never—”
“Tsk, tsk tsk, Lilly.” Cupid waved a finger, and disappeared in a puff, then reappeared at her side, with his arm around her. “We should make the announcement more publicly, but this will do. You need to, of course, get rid of the whole Fairy Godmother business. But telling Andres is good enough, is it not?”
Lilly opened her mouth to say something, but instead let out a scream as Andres punched Cupid in the jaw.
“You get your hooks out of her, Cupid!”
“Or what,” Cupid said, opening and closing his mouth.
Andres threw another punch.
This time, though, Cupid was ready. He blocked the fairy’s swing, and answered with his own uppercut.
Andres fell backward, hitting the concrete of the sidewalk.
“Christy, Ava!” Lilly cried out as she dove for Andres.
“Do not trifle with me, fairy,” Cupid said, stomping over to him. “This is business, you little fly.”
Lilly cast an extra spell, wrapping around the three of them, blocking anyone from seeing the fight. Or the appearance of any more fairies.
“What are you two doing?” Christy snapped, a whirl of blue sparkles filling the little bubble.
Andres pushed Lilly aside and charged. He hit the god with several quick jabs to the face.
“Whoa, Andres,” Ava said, grinning.
“Don’t encourage them!” Lilly said, stepping into the fight.
Cupid threw another punch at Andres, catching Lilly on the wing, and sending her flying into Andres.
She let out a cry of pain.
Andres twisted around, blocking her from Cupid. “You sick bastard,” he snarled. And this time, Andres hurled a spell at Cupid, binding him tight.
“Really?” Cupid said, struggling for a moment. But only for a moment.
Andres added to it, punching Cupid in the jaw before turning back to Lilly.
“Are you okay?” Andres said, stroking Lilly’s cheek.
“I… Watch out!” Over Andres’s shoulder, Lilly saw Cupid twitch, and the binding spell disappeared. Cupid rubbed his jaw, and a murderous expression filled his face.
Andres spun around, activating a magical shield to protect him and Lilly.
Cupid rolled his shoulders back. “God, remember?” And he started to hurl a spell at Andres.
But Cupid suddenly froze, the spell misfiring into the air. “What the…” He struggled against a new bond, but couldn’t break this one.
What in the world?
Anteros appeared in front of Cupid. Anteros, the opposite of Cupid in every way—dark hair, dark eyes, thick and muscular, and not a big fan of bending free will.
Anteros snarled at Cupid. “Brother, you have been rather ornery as of late.”
Cupid raised his eyebrow to Anteros. “You are rather nosey.”
“Come, we need to have a discussion.”
“Get him out of here,” Ava said to Anteros. The newcomer raised his eyebrow, and he turned back to Cupid.
Cupid snapped his gaze to Ava, looking wounded at her words, before the two of them disappeared.
“Lilly, can you stand?” Christy asked.
“I think so,” she replied. Christy on one side, and Andres on the other, they helped Lilly to her feet.
Christy and Ava looked at her wings. Lilly tried to spread them, but couldn’t—at least not her left one. The right side was fine, but the left ached. Cupid must have packed a wallop in that punch.
“We need to get you to a healer,” Christy said, putting her hands in the wings. “Some of your hollow bones might be—”
“Ow!” Lilly cried out as pain shot through the wing and into her back.
“Should we call the FID?” Ava asked.
Lilly shook her head. “We can manage.” The last thing they needed was the Fairy In Distress team. She glanced at Andres, a thousand emotions flying through her, along with the pain, but the most obvious question in the forefront of her mind.
What had provoked Andres?
His face started showing signs of the fight—swelling and turning an awful shade of purple. “Yes, we need to get her to a healer. And then to a psychiatrist.”
Lilly, along with Christy and Ava, snapped their attention to him. Her friends opened their mouths to reply, but Lilly waved her hand, stopping them.
She knew why Andres thought she needed a shrink.
He thought she was crazy for considering anything from Cupid.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bruce stepped out of Greta’s little shower, amused the entire bathroom was done in fifties light-green tile. It looked like it belonged in his grandmother’s house.
Not connected to Greta.
“I put a T-shirt on the sink for you,” Greta said from outside.
“Thanks.” He dried off, glad to have the blood off his face. No wonder she’d looked so scared when she first saw him.
He put his pants back on, which weren’t too messed up, but the shirt had blood on it, and Greta had said she was going to try and get it clean.
Not that he cared.
He was here, with her.
Progress, right?
He headed into the main room, where her kitchen, living room and office were all sort of smashed into one space. Greta was sitting on the couch, sipping on a drink.
“Are you thirsty? Need anything? An ice pack?”
Bruce shook his head. “I’m okay.” He wasn’t sure if he should sit next to her…
Now Lilly’s help would be awesome. Where are you, Fairy Godmother?
Not that he wanted to admit to anyone he had one… A conversation he’d save for later.
He took a gamble and decided to sit next to her.
She shifted, but didn’t pull away. Of course, she didn’t throw herself into his arms, either.
“So why didn’t they throw me in jail? Does that guy have a bad reputation?” Bruce asked.
“Did you mean what you said?”
Bruce nodded. “Every word.”
Greta stared at the coffee table. “Remember I told you about the letter? From the guy who cleared his conscience?”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t mention one part. He told me, if I ever needed anything to ask.” She twisted a little bit—facing him, but not quite. “It was Lonnie, the police officer.”
Bruce grimaced, wishing he would have punched the officer too. Of course, then he would be in jail. Probably facing a hefty fine for hitting an officer. But still…
“I think I just called in a favor,” Greta said.
Bruce clenched his fist, noticing the scrapes on his knuckles. “Well, I guess I should thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She took another sip.
He sighed. “So now what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you still going to talk to me?”
She shrugged. “Probably.”
“I’m glad.”
“I have to. You still have to do my book covers.”
“Well there is that. I was more concerned with—”
“I know what you were concerned with.”
He reached over and took her hand. She studied their joined hands.
“Listen, I meant what I said. I do love you. I think I’ve been in love with you for months. I know what I did was wrong. And I would love to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Greta blinked and pulled her hand away. “What?”
He slid to the floor. His rational brain wanted to know what in the world was he doing. But his heart—which finally had taken over—ran this show now. It felt right. And he was going to do this.
On his knees, he took her hand again. She didn’t pull away, but he could feel the moistness of her palm. Or maybe that was his.
“I’m a jerk, a dick, and an asshole. Unless I’m with you. And I don’t like who I am when I’m not with you. You make me better, Greta. I’ve never had that before. And I don’t ever want to lose it. Please. Marry me.”
Greta’s jaw fell open, tears streamed down her face. “I…”
“Don’t answer now. I… This wasn’t my plan. I didn’t bring a ring or anything. I just want you to think about it. Please don’t say no. Not yet.”
“Okay.” She squeezed his hands. “I will think about it.”
He nodded. “I know this whole relationship is strange, but I know I love you, and I don’t want to be without you. I don’t care if you want a long engagement, just to be sure. Whatever you want, I’ll do. Just be with me.”
“Can I have a few days?” Greta asked.
“If that’s what you need.”
She nodded. “Just a few. There’s so much… I’m not saying no. Yet. I just… There’s been so much.”
“I understand.” He leaned into her, and she hugged him back. They kissed, soft and delicate, before Bruce headed out.
Even in the car, he couldn’t believe what he’d done.
Yet it felt more right than anything he’d done in a long time.
“Oh, my aching wings,” Lilly muttered, lying on her side in the healer’s bed. The room, painted sea-foam green, was supposed to be soothing, calm and all sorts of nice. It just made Lilly think of baby poop.
Which only made her depressed, because she knew she’d never get to have a kid.
Even fairies had biological clocks, though they didn’t start ticking until a Fairy Godmother retired. For Lilly, that was going to be eminent.
“You will be all right,” Ava said, shifting back and forth, her rosy-red wings fluttering. “At least it was just a couple of minor fractures.”
Guys and Godmothers Page 29