Page 6 of Romanced by the Rat (Ghostlight Falls #3)

“I don’t know what I believe! We’re in Ghostlight Falls after all. Anything in this town is possible, but I’m growing more and more convinced that I’m just losing it.”

“If I showed you what I looked like, I’m pretty sure I’d send you on a one-way ticket to a mental hospital.”

“Well, now I've got to know.”

“Probably not a good idea.”

“If anything, maybe it will make me feel better about myself. You’re here to help me after all, right?”

He scoffs. “Not necessarily.”

“Then why are you talking to me and telling me what I should do with Charlotte?”

Scuffling sounds behind me, and I whip toward the source, but nothing is there. “I don’t know. I have nothing better to do,” he replies.

I sigh. “Can you even show yourself? What are you, like a ghost or something?”

“No. I’m not a ghost.”

“Then what?”

“Fine!” he yells. “I don’t know how seeing me will make you any better at getting the girl, but if that’s your mental barrier, here I come.”

I wait.

Nothing happens.

“Well?”

“I’m right here.”

I whip around the white bathroom. I’m still alone. “Where?”

“Right here!” He speaks up louder, this time making it impossible for my attention not to be drawn to his source.

I stare down at my non-slip shoes. A tiny gray rat sits at my feet, staring up at me.

I scream, falling backwards. I’m not afraid of rats usually, but even the most stoic man would be caught off guard if a tiny rodent popped out in front of them.

“Ha, ha, very funny!” I yell to the room, regaining my footing and pulling myself into a seated position.

“What’s funny?” There’s no mistaking it this time. The voice came from the rat. But no. Rats don’t talk. At least, last time I checked. I freeze. “Who said that?”

The rat waves his fuzzy, pink-palmed hand. “It’s me.”

I scream again. A talking rat isn’t the craziest thing I've seen. Mothman dined at Ratcliff’s just the other day, but in all my years of living in Ghostlight Falls, I’ve never been snuck up on by a talking rat. It’s unnerving.

“Oh, calm down.” He rolls his eyes. “I could have been a talking alligator. How much harm could I possibly cause you?”

He’s an asshole, but that isn’t new. I clutch my chest, stilling my panic and letting my head clear. “How do people normally react when you reveal you’re a talking rat?”

He picks at his forelimb, looking nervous. “Well, this is my first time. Considering you haven’t tried to stomp on me, I’m thinking it’s going pretty well.”

“Wait, do all rats talk?’

He laughs, surprisingly rich for such a little creature.

“No. Well, at least not to me. As far as I know. I’m the only one.

That’s probably because I’m not really a rat.

I’m a man, same as you. Not exactly the same as you.

I was a soldier at Fort Pines. Got tricked into a science experiment and here I am.

” He waves his hands at his side as if presenting his form for the first time.

There are several points in his explanation that he’s leaving out, as if being turned into a rat is just a regular day in the office, but I have too many questions—the most pressing involving the dark-haired beauty waiting on me in the dining room.

I rub at my temples, charging toward the sink to splash cold water on my face.

The rat talks from behind me, scurrying closer.

“I know it’s not my place, but I have nothing better to do.

I spend most of my time watching the patrons here at the restaurant.

When Charlotte came in…” He turns away from me.

“I couldn’t look away. And then I saw she had an attraction to you, one that you reciprocated.

You continued to fumble, and I just couldn’t sit by and watch you ruin something that will never happen for me, but could be the greatest thing for you. ”

I study him. I’ve never observed a rat before, but his voice, his movements, they all seem so sincere—so desperate for a connection.

If what he says is true and he really was a man turned rodent, I’d imagine life would be pretty boring.

It’s not too hard to imagine that he wants to help because he has nothing better to do.

I feel somewhat sorry for him. It’s a nicer feeling than feeling bad for myself.

I sigh. “If you want to help me, I’m not going to stop you.

I’m obviously not going to remember your advice, though.

” An idea pops into my mind and I brighten.

“Why don’t you come with me and whisper what I should do? ”

The rat smiles. “That could work, but how could I stay hidden?”

I ponder for a moment. I think there are some hats in the closet. You could sit on my head and whisper to me hidden underneath my hat.”

“Sure.” He shrugs.

I bend down, offering my hand, and he climbs up. “I’m going to put you in my apron pocket, until I get the hat.”

“Fine with me.” He’s an easy-going rat for sure. But maybe I’m a little too easy-going as well, offering a vermin a free ride after just meeting them moments before.

I gingerly place him in my apron before racing out of the bathroom and heading toward the closet. We wasted too much time getting to know each other. Charlotte is waiting.

Something about having him close makes me instantly more confident. I don’t hesitate to pull out the short white chef’s hat, placing the rat on my head, and covering him. I stop before I charge to the bar. “Oh yeah, what’s your name?” It seems only fair; he apparently knows way too much about me.

“Ramsay,” he says, making himself comfortable in my curls.

I can’t say I hate the feeling—the weight of him, feeling not so alone.

I just fucking hope he doesn’t have fleas.

His voice makes its way to my ears easily.

I hope no one else can hear him. “Hey! I actually can see through the hat,” he says. “This just might work.”

“Hide a bit in my hair,” I whisper. If he can see out, there’s a chance people can see in. He wiggles closer to my scalp.

The bar is empty. I guess the bartender hasn’t clocked in yet. “Shit.” I don’t know which one is the Pinot Noir.”

“Do you not know how to read?” Ramsay asks.

“I don’t have time to read all the labels!” I yell back. A lone woman eyes me from the other side of the bar, clutching her purse to her shoulder as she makes her way from the bathroom to presumably her table. Right, gotta cool it with talking to myself so loudly.

“Walk toward those bottles of red!” Ramsay barks.

I swivel around, trying to find the “red” section.

“Jesus Christ! This way!” Ramsay tugs on a strand of my hair, sending my body lunging in the direction of his yank.

“What the fuck,” I mutter, regaining balance from my knees.

“Did you just involuntarily move?” he asks, a laugh coating his question.

“How did you do that?”

He doesn’t respond, only yanks my hair again, sending my feet closer to the shelf housing the bottles of dark red.

He pulls a smaller strand. “Here, grab that one.” My hand shoots out and clasps around the bottle closest to me.

Sure enough, as I scan the label, it reads Pinot Noir. “Holy shit,” I whisper.

“No time to stand with your fingers up your ass. Get over to Charlotte’s table, now!

” He pulls my hair again, sending me out from behind the bar and toward the dining room.

I have no clue how he knows which strands of hair to direct which portion of my body, but he doesn’t hesitate.

I want to stop and detangle the semantics of this arrangement, but he’s right, we don’t have time.

Besides, he’s a talking rat. Nothing about this situation is normal.

“Sorry about the wait!” I yell once Charlotte comes into view.

“Lower your voice,” Ramsay scolds. I tense wondering if she heard him. Charlotte just looks from my face to the bottle of wine in my hand without a hint of confusion coating her expression. Good.

“Oh, no problem. I was just scanning the menu. What are Honey Holes? ”

I scratch the back of my head, careful not to knock my hat over. “It’s a dessert.” That’s honestly all I know.

“Smooth, jackass,” Ramsay whispers. Why did I agree to this arrangement again? “Pour her wine, smile, give her eye contact!” he commands.

Oh right. I needed that.

I do as I’m told. Something about having another helping hand so close sends my nerves away. My hands are steady as I uncork the bottle and pour the liquid into her glass already on the table.

Charlotte smiles at me before taking a sip. “Wow, this is great!”

“I gave her the Le Creme Rosa. It’s 150 a bottle. Tell her it’s your finest wine and that it’s on the house.”

I do as I’m told, even as my stomach tightens, because I don’t know if that’ll come out of my paycheck. I guess it’s a good thing the bartender wasn’t there to rat me out.

Her cheeks rosy. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Ramsay whispers more orders, and I repeat, “It’s the least I can do after my mishaps yesterday. Actually, I insist on making it up to you even more. I’d love to take you out.”

Her shoulders straighten. “Like a date?”

“If you’ll have me,” I reply, hand over my heart, just as I was told.

“Oh, um.” She tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear, and her eyes dart nervously. This was a horrible idea. What does this fucking rat know? I’m being too forward, scaring her away.

“I’d love to!” Her voice cracks slightly.

Ramsay whispers more orders. “How about tomorrow at noon? We can have a picnic at Ghostlight Falls.” The town’s famous waterfall stands right on the other side of Ratcliff’s overlooking the water tower.

It’s a great suggestion on Ramsay’s part—romantic, unique, secluded.

My mind wanders to forbidden places, and my slacks tighten.

“That sounds wonderful.” She beams, hands clasped together.

“Great! It’s a date. In the meantime, I’ll put in an order for ratatouille and some Honey Holes.” I back up and wink before turning and walking back to the server station. “We fucking did it!” I whisper once I’m out of earshot.

“Yep,” Ramsay replies. “Now you just have to not fuck it up for your date tomorrow and the rest of your life.”

My heart beats faster. “Wait, no. I can’t go on the date on my own. You have to come with me.” I type in Charlotte’s order on the POS, almost hitting the wrong button, but Ramsay pulls my finger to the correct spot.

“What are you going to do? Wear this little hat on your date?”

I think for a second. “I can wear a baseball hat. I’ll cut out a hole and insert mesh so you can see!” Maybe I’m not an idiot after all.

Ramsay’s silent for a moment, and I resist the urge to beg again. Having him near makes me a more confident man. Of course, this can’t last forever, but I just need him until I’m comfortable around Charlotte. Then I’ll be able to take the reins of this relationship.

He sighs. “Fine. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

“Please don’t.”

I laugh.

“Okay, Romeo. Let’s see if I can’t help you make a decent amount of money tonight.

” He yanks me away from the computer and to the drink station.

I’d almost forgotten that I had an entire shift to work tonight.

Somehow, the thought isn’t as terrible as it was when I clocked in.

I won’t be alone. I’ve got a furry companion guiding me around this war zone.