Page 59 of Road Trip with a Vampire

Two weeks later

Yoga Magic’s goat yoga event was still thirty minutes from starting when Peter and I showed up with the guests of honor. Dozens of people had already filed onto the field we’d rented, their designer yoga mats and Lululemon outfits on point.

“It’s strange,” Peter mused, regarding the goats as they blithely hopped out of the trailer we’d gotten to transport them.

We were borrowing a dozen from a farmer on the outskirts of town who was deeply confused by the whole thing.

Hopefully this field wouldn’t be a literal shitshow by the end of the day.

“What’s strange?” I asked. “Aside from the obvious, I mean.”

“Animals usually have an instinctive fear of me,” he said. “I can’t tell if these goats have especially poor self-preservation instincts or if I’ve lost my edge.”

As he spoke, Flossie, one of the more affectionate goats, nudged at Peter’s hand with her nose, looking for pets. Peter sighed and began rubbing behind Flossie’s ears with a severely put-upon expression. The twinkle in his eye, though, told me how amused he was by all this.

“Well, whatever the reason, this gang likes you,” I agreed, unable to keep from smiling. Despite my best efforts, I was amused, too. “This one especially.”

Peter grunted in agreement before shifting his hand to rub beneath Flossie’s chin.

“Thank you for doing this, by the way,” I said. “You didn’t have to.”

Peter’s eyes found mine. “I did, though.”

I reached up to push aside a lock of his hair that had fallen into his eyes, shivering a little when he turned his face to kiss my palm. “You already more than repaid your debt to me, you know.”

“This isn’t about that.”

“What is it, then?”

He nodded at Flossie. “I just really love goats.”

I snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

He sighed theatrically, then pulled me into his arms. “If you must know, I’m here because I wanted to see my handiwork up close after it was all finished.”

“The fences look great,” I told him. A huge understatement. After seeing what a fabulous job Peter had done on Yoga Magic’s roof, Becky and Lindsay had all but begged him to build temporary fences around the field to keep the goats from wandering off.

I could tell he was glad for the work. Not just because it was work he enjoyed, although it was, but also because he needed to start supplementing his income.

The small payment we forced him to take for these fences would help, now that he was cutting back on the contracts he took as a fang for hire.

The morning we’d woken tangled up together in my bed after reconciling, he’d told me he would never again take contracts that came with even the slightest chance of him needing to kill someone who didn’t have it coming.

Those cases had been a small percentage of his workload but had also made up the bulk of his income.

He needed to find ways to make up the loss.

“I liked building the fences,” he said, nodding at the field. He really had done a terrific job. “I’d like to expand my work to include carpentry, I think. For human and nonhuman clients.”

He looked so hopeful when he said it. Happy. It was a wonderful look on him.

Becky and Lindsay appeared by the trailer once all twelve goats were out and ambling towards the field.

“Finally!” Becky exclaimed, eyes darting between me and Peter. “We were beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

“Why?” I asked, giving one of the smaller goats—Angus, I thought—a gentle pat on the behind to encourage him to follow his friends. “You thought I’d make a run for it with a dozen goats in tow?”

“No,” Lindsay said, smirking. “We just wondered whether the two of you would make it out of bed in time.”

My face burned crimson. I didn’t have to look at Peter to know his attention was likely on anything and everything but me.

It was true that after reuniting, Peter and I had struggled to keep our hands off each other when we were alone. Sometimes when we weren’t alone, too. There’d been one late night incident at the studio when we’d reasonably assumed we were alone, which had…

Well.

How were we supposed to know Lindsay had scheduled an after-hours one-on-one lesson with a student?

“I’ll…just bring the goats to the field,” Peter said, voice strained.

Maybe he was thinking about that night Lindsay had caught us in the studio, too.

He made a come here motion with his hands, and like history’s most unlikely pied piper, he led the goats from the parking lot to the field, where people were already beginning their stretching exercises.

“I wouldn’t miss this,” I insisted once Peter was safely out of earshot. “You know I wouldn’t, right?”

“We know,” Becky agreed. She walked over to me and linked her arm through mine. “We’re just giving you a hard time.”

“We’re honestly glad you found someone to blow your back out,” Lindsay said conspiratorially. “You’ve been living like a monk since we’ve known you.”

“Um. Thanks?” I tried to remind myself that my friends were only being supportive. Peter, thank the gods, was too far away to overhear what Lindsay had just said.

But by the time I looked up again, he was back by my side.

“Ready?” he asked, eyes on mine, one large hand on my shoulder.

My friends gaped at him. “How did you get back here so fast?” Lindsay asked. “You just left.”

Peter shrugged. “I used to run track in college.”

I snorted. That was a good one. I reached for his free hand, and he immediately took mine in his, interlacing our fingers.

Our hands looked good clasped together. We looked good together, full stop.

Ignoring my friends’ snickering, we walked together towards the field.

I’d told them we could only stay long enough to see the event get underway.

Peter, I’d explained, still had a lot of unpacking to do in his new apartment.

Lindsay and Becky had been so thankful for everything he’d done for us that they hadn’t had any problems with this at all.

Of course, I hadn’t told them the whole truth. Peter didn’t know the full truth, either. Hopefully he would enjoy the surprise I had planned.

“Shall we?” I asked, squeezing his hand.

“I don’t actually have much to unpack,” he said. “We can stay here longer if you want.”

I shook my head. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

I took a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves. It had taken more work to set everything in motion than I’d expected when I’d devised this plan. What if it wasn’t what he wanted? I gathered my courage and tugged gently on his hand. “Come with me.”

“Tell me where we’re going first,” he said, laughing a little. But when I started walking towards the parking lot, still holding his hand, he followed willingly.

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” I said. “It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?” I was walking quickly now, full of anticipation, but with Peter’s long legs he kept pace with me easily. “In that case, lead the way.”

The loft I’d purchased two days ago was more than a mile from Yoga Magic’s event. Between Peter’s long strides and my excitement, though, we reached it in less than twenty minutes.

“Here we are,” I said, breathless from the walk and my nerves.

Of all the places I’d toured—and I’d looked at just about every space that was for sale downtown these past two weeks—this one needed the most work.

It was in an older building with peeling paint, and its design had probably been outdated twenty years ago.

The loft itself, located in what would otherwise have been this building’s attic, would need more than a little elbow grease for it to live up to the potential I knew it had.

Somehow, though, the loft’s imperfections only made it more perfect for the person I’d bought it for. Peter would have the space in flawless shape in no time and would revel in every minute of the challenge.

Now, though, he simply looked up at the two-story building I’d taken him to. The sun was setting right behind it, and he had to hold his free hand up to the level of his eyes to see it clearly. “What am I looking at?”

Anticipation fluttered in the pit of my stomach. “Your new studio.”

“My what ?”

I laughed at the look of surprise on his face. Then I took his hand and pulled him towards the front door. “Come see.”

The Realtor had left the keys in the mailbox, and I fished inside it until my hand closed around what I was looking for.

The stairs that led up to the loft were solidly built, at least. As we climbed upward, the visions I’d had of Peter working here, building a name for himself in his new, slightly modified line of work, played out for me every time I blinked my eyes closed.

When we reached the closed door at the top of the landing, I unlocked it with a shaking hand. Then flung it open.

“It’s a loft,” Peter breathed, his words echoing inside the empty open space.

Dust motes hung in the air, illuminated by the weak sunlight streaming in through the tiny window on the far side of the room.

As it had once been an attic, the ceilings sloped dramatically from the top of the building in a way that pleased me.

In a way that pleased Peter, too, if his awestruck expression was any guide.

“If you’re going to be here in Redwoodsville awhile,” I began, watching as Peter walked into the room and turned slowly in a circle, taking everything in, “I thought it might be nice to have your own workshop.”

He had told me of the places where he’d lived over the years, of the different cities he’d stayed in for a season or two before moving on to the next.

Peter had always worked with his hands as much as his mind, but he’d never had the luxury of a permanent place to do this work.

A kitchen table in a poorly furnished studio apartment in a city he’d never see again had been his default for decades.

Now, here, that could change. If he wanted it to.

I’d expected Peter to immediately start measuring the loft with his hands, talking through furniture layouts and where his new construction tools might hang. Instead, he simply looked at me with an expression I couldn’t read.

My nerves got the better of me. “I was thinking you could put a desk here,” I said, beginning to pace the room.

I gestured to a spot on the opposite side of the room from where he stood.

“There’s only that one window, and it’s way over there.

So you won’t get any sunlight while you’re working.

Hopefully that will make it more comfortable for you. ”

I looked up at him, waiting for him to say something.

Anything. When he didn’t, I continued babbling.

“You can hang your tools up over here,” I said, pointing at the wall behind me.

“At least, I assume you’ll want to hang your tools?

I’ll admit I don’t know much about tools, since I’ve never owned any. But—”

“Zelda.”

I stopped talking midsentence, turning to face him. He walked towards me, the look in his eyes one of such reverence I didn’t trust myself to speak.

When he reached me, he lifted a hand and gently, gently pushed a lock of hair that had fallen into my eyes away from my face.

“You got this for me?” His voice was husky, raw. Disbelief laced his words.

I nodded, swallowing around the lump in my throat. My heart was so full as he looked at me, close to bursting. “For your new business venture. Do you like it?”

He huffed an incredulous laugh. “Do I like it?” he repeated as though he couldn’t believe the question. “Zelda.”

Wordlessly he placed his hands on my shoulders, gently guiding me backwards through the empty room until my back was flush against the wall. He peered down at me with such utter devotion, all cogent thought fled.

“Do I like it?” he murmured again under his breath. My body was pressed between the hard wall behind me and the plane of his chest, but his eyes were on my lips. Hungry. “I’ve never had a better gift.”

By now Peter and I had kissed in just about every imaginable way.

And in some ways I’d never imagined, which was honestly shocking to me given how many centuries I’d been imagining things.

This kiss, though, would be seared into my mind forever.

The press of his lips to mine was gentle and needy all at once, sealing us together in a way words never could.

His hands on my hips were his unspoken gratitude, his fingertips pressing into my flesh his vow to never leave.

By the time we broke apart, I was gasping, both from the kiss and from the enormity of everything that had just passed between us.

“What do you think of Elliott and Turret as a name for this new enterprise?” Peter asked, suddenly shy.

My heart soared at his words. At the image it painted of the two of us, working together into the future on projects big and small. I twined my arms around his neck, grinning so broadly I didn’t think I’d ever be able to stop.

“I think,” I said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I think it sounds fantastic.”