A brief worry crossed Quin’s mind of how he shouldn’t hang out with other guys when in a relationship, but he realised it was a relic from his Lark days. Kit was possessive, sure, but not to the extent that he’d stop him from making a friend. He’d be proud of Quin for branching out from Mabel. “You know what? I don’t have work for another couple of days. Let’s do it.”
“Yeah? There’s a nice dog-friendly pub about ten minutes from here. See you there at, say, three? They have a beer garden that gets the sun.”
“Sounds good. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
Chores took up the rest of Quin’s afternoon. It flew by with Mabel at his side, distracting him at every moment. True to his word, he met Louie at the pub, and they enjoyed a few hours of drinks. Even Mabel got a puppuccino, sitting under their feet in the shade. Quin learned a bit more about Louie, how he’d started his business by walking his elderly neighbour’s dog, and how it had grown from there.
By the time Quin returned to the house, he had a pleasant buzz from the alcohol and the beginnings of a definitely there and not-at-all imagined tan on his legs. He made chicken for both his and Mabel’s dinner, shoving his own into a lettuce-lined crusty baguette and being liberal with the salt and mayo.
As night approached, Quin went up to the bedroom, undressing and slipping in beside Kit. The next thing he knew, he woke up to soft kisses trailing down his neck.
He hummed contentedly. “Now, if you could wake me up every day like that…”
“You’d get spoiled,” Kit said.
“Never. I’m far too down-to-earth and—ow,” he said as Kit tugged on one of his chest hairs.
“Shh.”
“Ow,” Quin repeated, as Kit did it again. “Christ, you little demon.”
“Vampire, not demon, remember?”
“Ha. Stop that,” Quin said, cracking an eye open to glare at Kit.
Kit sniffed. “You smell of beer.”
“Hmm? Oh, I had a few drinks with Louie this afternoon. You all right with that?”
The covers shifted as Kit sat up. “Do I have a reason I shouldn’t be?”
“Nah. Louie’s chill. What’s the plan for tonight, then?”
“The guys wanted to go to the beach.”
“I need another shower. Wanna come with?”
Kit yawned, his fangs flashing. “Sure.”
They stayed a while in the shower, Quin spending more of his time washing Kit than himself. He couldn’t help the deep satisfaction that ran through him when Kit put the engagement ring back on the second they got out of the bathroom.
“I’ll need to take the ring somewhere to get it resized,” Quin said.
Kit scowled. “What if they lose it?”
Quin laughed. “They won’t. There are places in St Andrews that’ll do it. I’ll deliver it there myself.”
Kit scowled harder. “What if somebody steals it?”
“Kit, it’s much more likely to fall off of your skinny little finger than for it to be stolen.”
“Stubby. My stubby little finger.”
“Slender,” Quin corrected.
“They’re short, and stubby, and I have oddly big knuckles.”
“Your knuckles are perfect.”
