“It’s all in the wrist action.” At the sudden words, Kit whirled around, dropping the stone in his hand.
Quin looked sheepish, standing there in his usual getup of battered Barbour jacket and faded jeans. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Kit snorted. “You didn’t.”
Quin pointedly eyed the fallen stone but didn’t refute Kit’s claim. “Shall I show you how to do it?”
Kit pressed his mouth into a thin line. “I know how to do it,” he said primly.
Quin, once again, didn’t argue. But he did move closer to Kit, bending over on the way and picking up a stone of his own. Quin weighed it in his palm before dropping it and choosing another—the one Kit had just dropped.
“That’s mine,” Kit said, holding his hand out for it.
“You don’t have a monopoly on the rocks, Kit.”
Kit scowled. “But I brought it from over there.” He pointed back to where he’d come along the beach.
Quin just gave him a little grin. “It’s mine now.”
Kit stared at the stone in Quin’s hand. He was faster than Quin. He could grab it and run before Quin even realised he’d taken it.
Instead, he magnanimously allowed Quin to keep the stone. “Go ahead then,” he said with a sigh. “I bet you can’t get over four skips, anyway.”
Quin looked out at the sea. “And what do I get when I win this bet?” His tone stayed casual, but his heart rate sped up.
Kit shoved both of his hands into his pockets, fingering the rest of the stones. “What would you want?”
Quin paused, then said, “A cup of tea.”
“A… What?”
Quin looked at Kit. “I know you can’t eat food, but surely you’ve not been a vampire for so long that you’ve forgotten what a cuppa is.”
“I know what a cup of tea is!” Kit spluttered. “I just don’t understand why you’d ask for that for winning a bet.”
“Oh, I forgot to specify that you’re going to brew it for me. In your house.”
Kit grimaced as his claws scraped against the stones in his pockets. “My house?”
“Your house,” Quin agreed. “You’ll invite me over like a good neighbour, and we’ll sit and have a drink.”
“If you get over four skips,” Kit clarified.
“If I get over four skips,” Quin agreed.
“Hmm. Fine.” Kit pulled one of his hands out and gnawed on his thumbnail. He’d tried to break himself of the habit for years, but it never seemed to stick. He caught Quin eyeing his movement, so he shoved his hand back into his pocket, sinking his claws into his palm instead.
Quin sniffed the air, frowning. “Are you bleeding?”
“No.”
“I can smell it.” Quin twisted his body to look Kit up and down. It made Kit realise just how close they were standing, as he had to tilt his head back to meet Quin’s eyes as he spoke. “Kit…”
“Throw the damn rock already, or the bet is off,” Kit said, taking a step back. He pulled his hands from his pockets, pressing them together to wipe at the blood.
Quin held his gaze for a moment, but seemed to understand that Kit wasn’t in any serious pain. When Quin chucked the stone up in the air and then caught it, Kit rolled his eyes. Quin wore a focused expression on his face, like he was lining up to pot the black in a championship snooker game.
Quin whipped the stone out into the sea, and they watched avidly as it skipped once, twice, thrice…
