Chapter Seven #2
The third man brought flowers. He arrived on the Saturday. Sam got the idea he had to be friends with the other two – in fact, he was sure he’d seen the three of them together in the car the police had moved on from outside the café a couple of weeks before.
The flowers were not a cheap petrol station bouquet. They were an actual armful of late-season blooms - dahlias and chrysanthemums and something blue Sam didn’t recognize, but that smelled sweet.
“These are for you.” The man held them out, somehow shy despite being approximately seven feet tall and built like he could uproot trees with his bare hands.
Sam stared at the flowers, up at the man, and then back at the flowers again. “I...for me?”
“From my garden.” The man had long gray-blond hair pulled back and bright blue eyes. “I thought you might like them.”
“You brought me flowers.”
“Yes.”
“From your garden.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The man blinked, clearly not expecting that question. “Because they’re beautiful. And you…” He stopped for a moment and then added, “You should have beautiful things.”
Sam’s face burned. “I don’t...we don’t even know each other.”
“I’m Urien,” he said as if that fixed the problem.
“Sam.”
“I know.”
Of course he did - the name tag. Everyone in town knew who Sam was.
“These are really...” Sam touched a dahlia petal, soft as silk. “They’re gorgeous. But I can’t accept…”
“Please.” Urien’s voice went quiet. “I grew them myself. It would make me happy if you took them.”
What was Sam supposed to say to that? The man looked genuinely upset at the thought of Sam refusing.
“Okay.” Sam accepted the bouquet, though he had no idea where to put them. “Thank you. They’re...really beautiful.”
Urien’s whole face transformed with his smile.
He didn’t even order coffee. Just smiled at Sam and left.
Maya materialized instantly. “Was that the third one?”
“Third what?”
“The third gorgeous man obsessed with you. Keep up, Sam.”
Sam looked at the flowers and then thought about Mabon’s ridiculous tips and Rux’s phone number, still saved in his contacts.
“I think you’re spying on me when you’re meant to be working, and they’re not obsessed. They’re just being friendly.”
“Right.” Maya plucked the blue flower from the bunch. “Friendly men bring elaborate garden bouquets to baristas they don’t know. It happens all the time.”
Sam had no response to that.
/~/~/~/~/
Urien came back on early Tuesday morning, and he actually ordered coffee this time.
“Flat white, please.”
Sam made it, grateful for the return to normal café transactions. No flowers today, though Urien kept glancing at the chrysanthemums Sam had arranged in a vase by the register.
“They look nice there.”
“They do. Thank you again.” Sam handed over the coffee. “Can I ask you something?”
Urien straightened, seemingly alert for some reason. “Yes. Anything.”
“Are you all friends? You and the other two guys?”
Urien frowned. “The...other two?”
“Rux? And Mabon?” Sam gestured vaguely, which was a silly thing to do because the other men weren’t there. “They’ve both been coming in and you all seem...I don’t know. Similar somehow.”
“We’re…” Urien paused. Something flickered across his face. “Yes, we’re friends, or rather, we live together.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Roommates?” Sam’s shoulders dropped, the tension he hadn’t known he’d been holding releasing all at once.
“Er…sure.” Urien nodded.
“You must be new to Dinetell. I thought maybe you were trying to, you know, get to know people. Make connections in town.” Sam smiled. “That’s really nice, actually. A lot of people who move here stick to themselves.”
Urien stared at him. “You think we’re...”
“Being friendly, which is great. Dinetell can feel small sometimes, but people are welcoming once you settle in.”
“Right.” Urien’s voice sounded strained. “Friendly.”
“I mean, the tips and flowers are a bit much.” Sam laughed, trying to make it a joke. “But I appreciate the thought. Really.”
Urien picked up his coffee with both hands, gripping the cup like it might escape. His knuckles had gone white, and he quickly put the cup down again.
“I should go.”
“Oh, okay, then. See you around?”
“Yes.” Urien backed toward the door, still holding Sam’s gaze. “You’ll see me around.”
He left without drinking any of the coffee.
Maya appeared at Sam’s elbow. “That was weird.”
“He probably had somewhere to be.”
“He looked like you’d just told him his dog died.”
Sam frowned at the door. “I just asked if they were friends.”
“And?”
“They are, apparently, they live together. I’m guessing they must be new to town.”
I’m sure I would’ve noticed them if they’d lived here a while.
/~/~/~/~/
That evening, Basil wound between Sam’s legs while Sam opened a tin of the expensive stuff - chicken in gravy, Basil’s favorite.
“You’re spoiled,” Sam informed him. Basil purred, unbothered by the accusation. Sam filled the bowl, set it down, then leaned against the counter while Basil ate, thinking about the three men who’d all seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
They must have just moved to Dinetell, perhaps they came from overseas.
That would explain a lot - the eagerness, the slightly off social cues, and the way they all seemed determined to make an impression.
Maybe they didn’t know many people yet and were trying to be extra friendly to compensate for being outsiders.
Gods, Sam felt like such an ass. He’d been suspicious of Rux’s phone number, had genuinely worried Mabon was mocking him with those tips, and had nearly refused Urien’s flowers because they seemed too much. And they were just trying to be nice.
Sam pulled his phone from his pocket, opened his contacts, scrolled to Rux, his thumb hovering over the call button.
What would he even say? Hi, this is the barista you gave your number to a week ago. Sorry I didn’t call. I thought you might be a stalker. Want to grab a drink?
That was hardly a way to make a good impression.
Hi, it’s Sam from the Daily Bean. Thanks for the number. Coffee sometime?
That was better because it was casual and friendly… but “coffee sometime?” They could get coffee anytime they came to the shop.
This shit is hard. Sam locked his phone without texting. I’ll do it tomorrow.
Basil finished eating and jumped onto the counter, licking gravy from his whiskers.
“You’re not allowed up here.”
Basil settled onto the exact spot where Sam had been trying to prep his toastie ingredients.
Sam sighed, scratched behind Basil’s ears, and gave up on dinner prep. He grabbed his laptop instead, settling onto the sofa with Basil immediately relocating to his lap.
His document open and the cursor blinking, Sam stared at the last scene he’d written - Kieran, Dante, and Alaric debating how to approach their oblivious mate without revealing they were vampires.
Sam’s fingers moved across the keys.
The human – Michael - smiled at the customer ahead of them, patient and kind despite the woman’s indecision about her order.
Kieran’s fangs ached. Dante’s hands fisted at his sides.
Alaric breathed in Michael’s scent - coffee and something warm, something uniquely him - and fought the urge to vault the counter and pull Michael close.
“We cannot simply tell him,” Kieran murmured.
“Why not?” Dante’s voice came rough. Desperate. “He’s ours. He’ll understand.”
“He’ll think we’re insane.” Alaric kept his gaze on Michael’s face, cataloging every freckle, every shift of expression. “Humans don’t believe in fated mates. In bonds written in blood and starlight.”
“Then we make him believe.” Dante stepped forward…
“No.” Kieran caught his arm. “We court him. Properly. As humans do.”
“I don’t know how humans court.” Dante sounded anguished.
“Neither do I.” Kieran’s jaw clenched. “But we learn. We make him smile. We show him he matters. We give him reasons to want us before we tell him why we need him.”
Sam paused, reading back over what he’d written.
Three supernatural beings, desperate and devoted, trying to navigate human social norms to reach someone who didn’t know he was already theirs. It was ridiculous, dramatic, and completely fantastical.
But something about it felt...
Sam stared at the blinking cursor. Three men. All gorgeous. All clearly successful. All showing him the kind of focused attention usually reserved for... for what?
People who mattered, that’s who. Not for the guy who’d been told - kindly, always so kindly - that he was “better as a friend.” That he was “really sweet, but...” That he just didn’t have that spark, that edge, that something that made people look twice.
Emma meant well when she’d said he was too soft. Maya meant well with all her matchmaking attempts, but they went nowhere. They saw what Sam had accepted years ago. He was nice enough, likable, and also forgettable.
So when three men who looked like they’d stepped out of some editorial spread all started appearing in his life bearing gifts and showing attention with those intense, focused stares - it couldn’t be real. Could it?
The hope was the dangerous part. Hope meant believing he might actually be worth choosing, and that belief would hurt so much more when the inevitable disappointment came.
Sam shook his head. No. Real life didn’t work that way. Rux, Mabon, and Urien were just friendly guys trying to settle into a new town. There was nothing more complicated in it than that.
He saved the document, closed his laptop, and tried not to think about how Urien had looked at the flowers or how Mabon watched Sam make coffee like it was the most important thing happening in the world.
Even Rux, with his clumsy conversation skills, who had fled the café as if staying another moment might break him.
I spend far too much time with my characters, and I’m seeing things that aren’t there. They were just being friendly, obviously. Basil purred in Sam’s lap, and Sam told himself he believed it.