ChapterThirteen
QUINN
‘God, look at you,’ Bram says, striding round the back of the bar. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve met your second wife?’
I huff in response, rolling my eyes as dramatically as I can manage. ‘Whatever. I was just thinking about my lunch.’
That’s a lie. I was absolutely thinking about Florence.
‘You’ve met someone?’ asks Lucy, hoisting herself up on the barstool across from me, her eyes comically wide.
Our other bartender, Fox, appears from nowhere too, which is no real surprise. She and Lucy are like carbon copies of each other. Personality-wise, at least. They couldn’t look more different if they tried. Even as a vampire Lucy is all pastel colours and long blonde waves, while Fox is rocking neon-green curls and an undercut, her outfit head-to-toe black.
‘I second that question,’ Fox says, sidling up to me. ‘Iwould also like to know the answer to this. Do I need to buy a hat?’
I fix her with a look. ‘You’ve got a hat. You wore it to my wedding.’
It was a plum velvet top hat, as I recall, and she looked cool as fuck in it.
‘Ihada hat,’ Fox says, pointing at me with the bottle of spiced rum in her hand. ‘I burnt it in celebration when you finally split up with Robyn, remember?’
DoI remember that?
‘Noooo,’ Lucy interjects, stretching out the word until it’s several seconds long. She might have had one gin and lemonade too many. ‘He wasn’t there. It was me, you and Emmy.’
‘Huh.’ Fox shrugs before she turns back to me. ‘Well, we thought about you the entire time.’
‘I…’ I’m not really sure what the correct response is here. ‘Thank you?’
Fox waves me away. ‘Sohaveyou met someone?’
Yes.
‘No!’
Lucy studies me, eyes narrowing in thought. ‘That no was a yes.’
God, don’t tell me she’s caught the mind-reading bit from Bram. I’ll never be able to sneak anything past them if they’re working as a team.
‘What?’ I ask, making a special effort to sound as offended as possible by the very idea. ‘How do you know that?’
She flicks her blonde curls over one shoulder and smiles smugly at me. ‘It’s my razor-sharp journalistic instincts.’
‘Lucy, you work in a bookshop,’ I say, trying my hardest to look stern. From the way she’s grinning back, it doesn’t feel like it’s working.
Fox narrows her eyes at me. ‘Also, you’ve been wearing your nice shirt on a heavy rotation.’
My hand goes to my chest, like she’s mortally wounded me. ‘All my shirts are nice.’
Lucy gives me a look that says,are they?and Fox snorts a laugh. She’s definitely drunk. Sober Lucy wouldnever.
I glare at them both. I’m being trolled by the two nicest people in Whitby. That’s a new low.
‘Don’t you have any work to do?’ I ask Fox, who’s leaning lightly against the counter while two people wait to be served further down the bar. She flashes me a middle finger and a wink simultaneously, before striding down to take their orders. I turn back to Bram, who’s still standing beside me, but I must whip around too fast because my vision darkens and spots dance in front of my eyes. I try to pretend nothing’s wrong, but as I go to step around Bram, I stumble, fruitlessly grabbing at nothing as I fall into the solid wall of his body.
He grabs me by the upper arms and hauls me to my feet, his strength impressive even though I know it’s supernatural. His inked hands hold me steady until the darkness eases. When it does, I look up at him, almost afraid of what I might find.
He’s frowning at me, his brows knotted tightly with concern. ‘You ok?’ he asks, voice low, and I nod.