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Logan made a broad motion toward Claire, giving her the floor.

Claire nodded acknowledgement but didn’t maintain the twins’ dramatic delivery. “Right, so aboutfiveyears ago, Pippa and I hit it off when she cut my hair.”

Before Leslie had to ask, Philippa said, “I’m a licensed stylist.”

“And we had a ton in common. We both like to ride horses. We like the same music, the same movies. We value a lot of the same things.” Claire still had over half her drink left. She kept taking deep breaths over the glass, seeming to savor the scent as much as the flavor. She took a longer sip before continuing. “Then for a hot minute, she tried to convince me and Mackey that we were a perfect match.”

“Mmhm,” Mackey hummed, the first thing he’d said in a while.

Leslie looked from him to Claire, alert for tension, but they both appeared at ease with their history. “Did you date?”

“Three dates,” Claire said. “We really got along, but not romantically.”

“The three of us got together a few times after that,” Mackey finally chimed in. “Then I brought Ryker.”

“We”—Ryker gestured from himself to Mackey—“had connected when I bought the desk in my study from his cousin, an acquaintance of mine, and Mackey was the one who delivered it. Again, same thing—we started talking and just clicked. The four of us kept meeting up for drinks, dinners… And that kept up for about two years, until Claire met Nova.”

“How?” Leslie leaned forward. This was a fascinating saga.

“Online at first,” Nova said. “I’m a conservation grant writer by trade, but I’m also just a stupidly prolific writer with adecent online following. Claire read an article of mine, and she messaged me, and then we figured out we were local to each other. Pretty soon I was introducing everybody to Logan, as twins do.”

“Okay, wait.” Leslie pointed around the room to each of them in turn. “Nova—grant writer. Philippa—hairstylist. Claire—Slake It Off’s bartender and proprietor. Obviously I know what Ryker does.”

When she pointed at Logan, he raised one hand and, with the other, brushed back a few pale flyaway hairs that had escaped his ponytail. “I’m a sous chef, hoping to be an executive chef one day.”

“Nice,” Leslie said, then pointed at Mackey. Gosh, he was quiet. “Last but not least.”

Mackey nodded to her as if conceding something. “Trauma nurse.”

Leslie had to blink, to replay his words. “I’m sorry…what? Can one of us even do that job?”

“Obviously yes.” The left side of his mouth lifted slightly. If that was a smile, it was his first since arriving.

“But…how do you…” She couldn’t imagine it. No, she wasn’t tempted by the scent of blood while it still circulated within a human body. She wasn’t even tempted when Hannah or Jake or any of her other human friends got a paper cut. But to work in an emergency room… That was a whole different world, a whole different level of physical contact with humans.

“How? Why?” she said.

“I can help,” Mackey said with a shrug. “Vampires are really useful in human medicine. I can work longer shifts without sleeping. I save lives every single day, and sometimes it’s because I catch something the humans missed. Or because my hands are stronger, faster.”

“And you don’t find it difficult?”

He didn’t answer her for a long moment, instead studied her with the same piercing look he’d leveled before shaking her hand. At last he said, “I have coping tricks when my senses get overwhelmed. For me, the rewards of my work outweigh the challenges.”

“That’s incredible.”

“Mackey’s one of a kind,” Ryker said.

Mackey shot him a disapproving look that seemed well-worn. “I’m a vampire like the rest of you. I chose a job where I could do some good. So did you, man.”

“Yeah, but I get to sit behind a desk in my office downtown—or in my home office, where I munch on snacks, sip my coffee, and put on a jazz record.”

“And fry your brain with endless screen-time and math. No thanks.”

“It doesn’t fry my brain. It energizes my brain.”

“Until you refuse to go to bed and forget to slake,” Leslie said.

The room rang with the laughter of Ryker’s friends.