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oons, ignoring Laura’s confused frown. He blew up a sky blue one, then held in the air by pinching the lip. Then he removed a black felt marker and did his best to draw a donkey. His artistic talents weren’t exactly legendary, but he figured it was good enough to be identifiable. While Ali continued to ponder his drink, a strange frown growing deeper and deeper on her face, Brandon waited until Laura was finished fil ing an order before he nabbed her attention.
    Her brows furrowed even further, but with what looked like adorable, reluctant curiosity, she dragged her feet in his direction. “What are you up to now?”
    He turned the bal oon so she could study the drawing. Her frown remained for a moment, until understanding dawned on her features. Her big eyes narrowed. “Don’t tel me that’s a don—”
    He let the bal oon go, and it breezed drunkenly around the bar while expel ing all that pent-up air. Then, in a blessed stroke of luck, it landed directly at Laura Tanner’s feet.
    Brandon did his best to keep the immense satisfaction he felt out of his expression and out of his voice. “Ms. Tanner, I do believe a donkey just flew.”
    “He’s got you there, Laura,” Hannah said.
    Laura’s mouth opened, closed, opened again, but not a squawk escaped. Brandon would bet good money that there weren’t many people or situations that could render this prickly female speechless.
    “I . . . I meant . . . a real donkey.”
    Brandon turned to Ned. “You were a witness. You heard her. Did she say, ‘When real donkeys fly?’ I could swear she didn’t.”
    “Nope,” Ned said, shaking his head. “I never heard the real part.”
    Brandon was about to insist she live up to her end of the bargain when Ali glanced up sharply from his drink, her blue eyes troubled. “I don’t think . . . I mean, I think this pulp is faulty.”
    “You don’t say,” Hannah muttered. “Mutant juice pulp.”
    “Go on, Ali, I won’t be offended,” Brandon urged. “Tel me what you see.”
    “Wel ,” she said, drawing out the word. “What I see is confusion.” 
    Brandon winked at Laura, whose cheeks turned a beguiling shade of pink. He swung back to Ali reluctantly. “Are you certain you’re not reading Laura’s pulp? Because I’m not confused about a thing. I know exactly what I want.”
    “Not now,” Ali said. “In the future. You’l have some confusion. Things are cloudy. You wil have . . . Oh, I better not say.” Brandon had to stop himself from grinning. Confusion. Ha!
    “No, no, please say it.”
    “Something, I don’t know what, is going to happen soon.
    And it’s going to be al confusing. And it’s going to tie you and Laura together forever.”
    Laura audibly gulped, then scowled. “That pulp is faulty, Ali. Remember, that’s not my usual brand of juice.”
    “Maybe that’s the difference,” Hannah piped in. “That brand predicted your prince was here.”
    Brandon had been rendered speechless by one word in Ali’s prediction. Forever. Not that he was opposed to a forever . . .
    someday. In fact, for a while there he’d come close to proposing a forever to Beth. But after she’d quickly and almost happily sliced that idea to ribbons, he’d decided it would be a good long while before he invested enough emotion in a woman to consider a forever.
    By the appalled expression on Laura’s face, she was in complete agreement with him on that score. Which relieved and insulted him at the same time. After all, he’d been called a catch—and he came from a very wealthy family. Although he’d bet his inheritance that wouldn’t impress her in the least.
    But he certainly had other redeeming qualities. He couldn’t think of any right at the moment, but he was sure he possessed a few. Then a thought occurred to him that he decided to test out on the crowd. “Wel , sure, as soon as Laura here agrees to go out with me, I’m quite certain I’l remember her forever and ever.”
    Laura rol ed her eyes.