Flipping the Bird (Shift Creek #1) - Carrie Pulkinen Page 0,62
the ring from the box and slid it on her finger. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my entire life.”
“I get it,” Marty said. “Everybody’s happy. Now, can we please go to the party? I’m starving.”
As Alice expected, The Crow’s Nest was packed when they arrived. Both mundies and supes alike filled the tables and stood around the bar, mingling and laughing, celebrating as they should.
She spotted Christine and tugged Donovan through the crowd toward the committee chair.
Megan stopped them before they could reach her. “Oh. My. Word.” She gaped at Donovan. “Your aura has changed. And you…” She gripped Alice’s shoulder. “You’re absolutely glowing.”
“I’m shiny too.” She wiggled her ring finger.
Megan gasped and grabbed her hand, holding it up to the light. “Look at it sparkle!” She squared her gaze on Donovan. “You better take good care of her. She’s my most favorite person in the whole world.”
“She’s mine as well.”
“So, how did you do it?” Megan asked. “You were so cryptic in your message I have no idea what happened.”
Alice linked her arm around her best friend’s elbow. “I’m about to tell the committee. Come listen.”
They finished the trek across the restaurant, and Alice explained everything that had happened. Christine’s eyes widened, her lips parting as she listened with an expression of awe.
“The humans think a change in tides solved the issue,” she said when Alice finished the story.
“Probably best if we let them,” Alice said.
Christine shook Donovan’s hand. “We owe you our thanks, Mr. Drake.”
He slid his arm behind Alice’s back, tugging her to his side. “Alice deserves all the credit. I was merely the conduit for her sacrifice.”
She grinned. “You did promise the spirit of the creek you’d live here for the rest of your life.”
He kissed her cheek. “That’s not a sacrifice at all.”
“Oh, Alice,” Christine said, “I almost forgot to tell you. A city council member just resigned. His wife got a job in Dallas, so there’s an open seat. I hope you’ll consider running. We could use more supes in office.”
“Maybe I will.”
Donovan tugged his phone from his pocket, his brow furrowing as he looked at the screen. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”
“Alice Drake has a nice ring to it.” Megan offered her a chardonnay and clinked her glass to hers.
“It does, doesn’t it?”
“I guess you’ll be moving into Rainecourt Manor?”
“Drake Manor, and yes. If that’s okay with Marty.” She winked at the mongoose, who sat on the bar next to her, nibbling a slice of garlic bread.
Marty winked back, and though she didn’t hear the wind breaking over the chatter in the room, the scent of pepperoni mixed with broccoli and eggs was unmistakable. They would have to work on his diet if her olfactory sense was to survive living with the gassy little guy.
Donovan approached, a look of uneasiness drawing his mouth into a frown. He stopped abruptly and looked at his familiar. “Seriously, Martin. People are trying to eat.”
Marty only chittered in return, since there were mundies in the room.
“Who called?” Alice slipped her hand into Donovan’s.
“That was my brother.” His voice sounded wary.
“Which one?” Megan’s eyes lit up.
“Griffin. I told him the matter had been dealt with, but he insists on paying a visit.”
“That’s nice of him.” Alice patted his hand. “You two got along growing up, right? It was Matthias who was the butthead.”
“When my father wasn’t around, we did, but…” He shook his head.
“Well, your father’s not around now. I’d like to meet your family.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It appears you’ll get your wish.”
If Megan smiled any bigger, her face would have torn in two. “Griffin is coming here? You’re sure?”
Donovan nodded. “Indeed.”
Megan tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “Oh, goody.”
It’s all fun and games…until someone wakes up dead.
Don’t miss License to Bite, the first installment in the New Orleans Nocturnes paranormal romantic comedy series.
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License to Bite Preview
“I hate Mardi Gras,” Ethan Deveraux grumbled as he stalked along the bank of the Mississippi River. It was cloudy, cold, and slightly damp, and while the weather had no effect on him physically, combined with the cacophony of drunken revelry, it made him ornerier than a