“I don’t know much, honestly.” Quin knew Kit enjoyed petting werewolves, but that wasn’t something he could make a gift out of, unless it was a gift for Quin himself.
“Well, in that case, you can never go wrong with flowers,” Louie said, earnest.
Quin considered this. Flowers seemed obvious. He hadn’t considered it an option because Lark had never wanted flowers, preferring more expensive gifts.
“You don’t think that it’s a bit of a present that women might appreciate more?” he asked.
“In my experience, most guys have never received flowers, so it’s a first for them. Makes for a pleasant surprise.”
Quin nodded along. “That tracks.”
They went back and forth, Louie advising Quin on which local flower shops offered the best value for money, and even schooling Quin on the meaning of some common flowers. By the time he left Louie’s house, Mabel in tow, Quin believed that Operation Apologise-to-Kit might actually be a success.
As it turns out, showing up on someone’s doorstep without prior warning isn’t cool, even if you come bearing apology flowers for the last time you accidentally stalked them.
“What are you doing here?” Kit asked when he opened his front door. His words were more accusation than question.
Quin brandished the oversized bouquet towards him. “I wanted to apologise for the other night.”
Kit surveyed the flowers like one might a particularly offensive excretion. “What are those?”
“They’re for you.”
“Flowers?”
“Flowers,” Quin confirmed.
“Why?”
“To say sorry.”
“I have nothing to put them in,” Kit said, sounding satisfied with his excuse.
“Well, isn’t it handy that I have a solution? Hold these.” Quin shoved the flowers into Kit’s chest and ran to his car. Thanks to Louie’s advice, Quin had prepared for such an eventuality. After giving a dozing Mabel a quick pat, he jogged back, holding the vase in careful hands.
Kit still stood at his door, hands full of the bouquet, looking down at it.
“Look,” Quin said, showing Kit the vase. He’d picked it up from a horrendously expensive little consignment shop, but the purply blue almost exactly matched Kit’s eyes. His beast had seen those vibrant eyes up close, and now it was the only colour Quin dreamed in.
Quin tried to hand Kit the vase, but realised his hands were already full of flowers. “I’ll, uh, leave it here,” he said, putting the vase on the ground at Kit’s front door. Each of the houses had a small paved area that some of the other neighbours filled with pots of outdoor plants. Kit’s, however, lay empty.
Kit had stood preternaturally still at his door since Quin thrust the flowers at him. “What’s the catch?” Kit asked.
“There isn’t one?”
Kit’s head tilted, his attention diverted. “What’s that noise?”
“What noise?” Quin could hear plenty of distinct sounds coming from all directions.
“That noise coming from your car.” Kit narrowed his eyes at Quin. “What do you have in there?”
Quin relaxed. “That’s Mabel. I probably woke her up.”
“Mabel?”
“My cocker spaniel,” Quin explained. Kit’s gaze kept darting to the car, so Quin risked it. “You can meet her if you like.”
Kit’s lips pursed in a considering pout.
