Thanks for the reviews everyone, I love hearing your thoughts. This one might rate another 'Don't Panic' warning...


A Waiting Game


Our much needed R&R lasted through most of Sunday. Through waking up in Quinn's bed, through the late brunch we cooked together and ate in that bed, and through a lazy couple of hours watching trashy TV in the den.

"You hungry?" I asked, stretching. It was mid-afternoon and we were on the couch, snuggled under a blanket together. It was a chilly day, grey and windy, and I missed a fireplace. "I can make popcorn before the movie starts."

"I could eat," Quinn said, then grumbled under his breath, "God knows, I'll need the distraction."

He'd lost a game of rock, paper, scissors and as the winner I'd picked a movie that was a real chick flick. Chuckling at his pout, I gathered our empty cups from the coffee table and went to fix our snack. The phone rang as I crossed the hall.

Yelling "I've got it," I snagged the cordless handset and clamped it between my shoulder and ear. "Quinn and Stackhouse residence," I said cheerfully, juggling the cups as I opened the kitchen door with my hip.

"Hi, Sookie. Is Quinn there?"

"He sure is. How are you, Frannie?" I set the cups down on the counter. Frannie called her brother every so often. She was pleasant enough if I answered, though we never spoke for long.

"Good, thanks. You? Timas said he ran into you both in Louisville."

"Yes, he did," I confirmed automatically, rooting for the bag of corn in a cupboard. "He and Quinn…"

"Had words?" She laughed ruefully. "Yeah, I heard. Quinn pulled the big brother card, huh?"

"Something like that."

"I wish he wouldn't. I can fight my own battles."

"Well, he cares about you." I leaned against the counter, bag of corn in my hand. "But I know how you feel. Jason makes me madder than a wet hen when he acts like that."

"Yeah? But does he try to interfere between you and Quinn?"

Not lately he hadn't. "That's more than his life's worth," I said drily, putting the corn down. Then, curious, I asked, "How are things with Timas? Quinn didn't make it worse, did he?"

"Oh, no. Timas has been extra nice to me lately. But don't tell Quinn that, it'll only encourage him." She laughed. "It wasn't his doing anyway. I gave Timas the cold shoulder for a week when he got back. Made him sleep in the spare room and everything. Even made him do his own laundry."

"Good for you," I said, smiling. Timas sure seemed the type that could benefit from a lesson or two in appreciating his wife. "Michelle says being in the doghouse always does the trick with Jason."

"Well, it works on Timas. He's so clueless about housework, you'd think his momma did his breathing for him."

Gran always said never take sides between a husband and wife, and that went double for in-laws. So I changed the subject before Frannie could badmouth her husband some more.

"How's school?" I asked. She was taking Spanish, as Timas and his family spoke it, and some biology classes with a view to training as a nurse or a physical therapist. The pack was funding it, I thought. Or maybe her father-in-law was, I wasn't real clear on the details.

"Pretty good. I got an A on my last essay," she answered proudly.

"That's great, honey." I did my level best not to sound jealous. I'd only gotten a B on my last psychology assignment. "I'm real pleased for you."

"College is so much better than high-school, isn't it?"

"Oh, it sure is," I agreed, with genuine warmth. Frannie hadn't done so well in school. We had that in common, though the why-fores were different. She'd been an angry kid; I'd been distracted by everyone else's thoughts. While we did the asking after each other's family routine, I made my way to the den. Quinn sat up and grinned at me. He knew who it was, of course; he could hear her.

"Here he is, Frannie. Y'all take care now."

"Sure, Sookie. You too."

Quinn took the phone eagerly and I left him to it. As I stood in the kitchen, shaking the pan of corn on the stove, his deep laugh reached me over the popping every now and then. Yet when I rejoined him in the den he was subdued. He'd finished talking to Frannie and the phone was on the coffee table. Had they argued?

"Problems?" I asked, snuggling back under the blanket and balancing the bowl of popcorn between us as I snagged the remote and switched channels. The movie was starting in ten.

Quinn rubbed his face and sighed. "Frannie booked flights. For the party."

Oh, right. Mama Quinn's big six-oh. Quinn and Frannie were throwing her a surprise party.

"Oh honey, I'd forgotten all about that," I said apologetically. Shoot, that was only three weeks away. I'd lost track, what with the summit and my side-trip for Daisy.

And Quinn was planning to have the party here, in Memphis. In Bardulf's territory. Imagining how many things could go wrong with that, his mama going on a rampage surprisingly not uppermost in those imaginings, I said hesitantly, "I don't know that's such a good idea right now."

"I know," he said, scowling at his hands. "But Frannie's real excited and I didn't have the heart to rain on her parade."

"Maybe we could relocate it?" I suggested, cringing at the idea. He shouldn't have to. Not because of me. Because telepaths were so damn valuable that all the vampires from here to Timbuktu wanted to get their fangs into me.

"It's too late to switch venues." Quinn looked up, jaw set. "Frannie got hold of a few of Mama's old friends from up north, people she hasn't seen in years. They're flying down specially."

"I don't know, Quinn..." I trailed off at the stubborn look in his eye. No, now was not the time to say that bringing Mama Quinn into the mix was like lighting a firecracker and praying it wouldn't explode.

His face clouded as if I'd said that aloud. "Mama's finally stable, doing real good," he insisted. "Frannie's settled too, making something of herself. They deserve this. I can't take it away from them, Sookie."

"I know, but…" I tried an appeal on safety grounds. "What if Bardulf decides blackmail isn't enough? What if he goes after them? We'd be putting them in harm's way."

He shook his head. "Bardulf wouldn't dare. They're under New Mexico's direct protection and Camargo will be here."

"Couldn't we postpone it, just until everything's settled?"

"It's all arranged." His hands clenched into angry fists. "No way am I letting the damn bloodsuckers ruin this. We just have to muzzle Bardulf before then."

"And if we can't?" I insisted. "If things are still up in the air—?"

"They better not be," he half-growled, "or I'll kill the fucker myself." I've killed for less. His thoughts turned dark then, filled with dust and rubble, and Andre's snarling face, and he got off the couch abruptly.

The movement tugged on the blanket. Cursing, I grabbed for the popcorn bowl a second too late. Kernels scattered onto the floor as Quinn stalked out of the den, leaving me to pick up the mess. The front door slammed. He'd gone to prowl the park, walk off his temper.

I wasn't in the mood to watch a chick flick after that. Movie abandoned, I dumped the popcorn in the trash and laundry occupied the rest of my afternoon. I was in my room putting the last of it away when Quinn knocked on the open door. I didn't look up from the t-shirt I was folding.

"Hey, babe," he said quietly. "Sorry I bailed on you." He shifted under the sharp look I gave him and cleared his throat. "I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you. None of this is your fault."

"No. You shouldn't have," I said grimly, reaching for another shirt. Even if the situation we were in was because of me. "I feel rotten enough about you getting dragged into all this without you laying into me, Quinn."

"Don't," he said, shaking his head. "You've got nothing to feel bad about, babe. We're a package deal. Anyone tries to hurt you, they got to get past me. That's how it is."

I shrugged, still too mad to forgive him despite his pretty words. Besides, knowing he was willing to stand by me was as guilt-inducing as it was gratifying.

"This is Bardulf's fault," he said with quiet insistence. "And we're going to stick it to him. Together. Right?"

"Yes. We are. " I gave him a reluctant smile. "Together. We're a team."

"Yeah, a team." He eyed me, weighing up my mood. "I'll start dinner, shall I?"

"Yes, you do that. I'll be down shortly." I nodded at the dresser beside the door, where that red velvet box was still sitting. "Take that with you, would you?"

Giving him the ring back now couldn't spoil the mood. Bardulf had already done that.

The party gave us an uncomfortably short deadline. By mid-week and no contact from Bardulf, I was ready to scream. The store was closed Wednesday and sitting in the house twiddling my thumbs didn't really appeal. Luckily, I had yoga class. Lord knew, I was in sore need of some relaxation.

My spirits lifted as I pulled into the lot. The class unwound me some, but going for coffee with the girls afterwards proved less restful. I found myself obsessively checking other customers, dipping into their mental chatter. Bardulf was bound to have someone watching us, but I hadn't spotted any of his goons yet.

Eventually, I gave up scanning the tables and paid attention to the girls from class. As usual the conversation was light and gossipy, but something was off. Donna was the only one who seemed herself. Julie was even quieter than usual, Helena was a no-show and Kate was overly perky without her best friend, smiling too brightly.

If Bardulf had gotten to one of them, he wouldn't need a goon.

Dipping into Kate's head first, I wished I hadn't. Helena had had a big bust up with the guy she was seeing behind her husband's back. She wasn't answering her phone and Kate was afraid her alcoholic friend had fallen clean off the wagon and into a lake of margaritas. Kate wasn't letting the rest of us in on that, though. Oh no, everything had to stay perfect in Kate and Helena's warped little Stepford-esque world.

Her head was full of the usual self-delusion, but there was no sign glamour had been used on her.

Donna was all aglow about moving in with her werefox girlfriend at long last. That was swell and all, and she really as happy as she seemed when I peeked at her thoughts, but I could've done without the visuals accompanying the racy details she was sharing out loud. Meredith was egging her on too, giggling like the twenty year old she hadn't been for sixty years. I shot her a frown, but she just winked at me and refused to take a hint.

That just left Julie. Outwardly, she was smiling and seemingly pleased by her friend's romantic success. Privately, she was dwelling on a job interview that had gone badly and a call from her dad. He'd insisted a vegetarian diet was unnatural and they'd had a nasty fight, full of bitter recriminations. The poor girl hated conflict and she was real cut up about it.

At least Julie could still call her dad.

The latte I was sipping tasted bitter all of a sudden and I put it down, biting at my lip. Julie's delicate features reminded me of the girl Tabner was holding in Nevada, the girl whose parents thought she was dead from what I'd gotten out of his head. How could I sit here gossiping while that poor girl was shut away from her family suffering God only knows what deprivations? I didn't even know her name, couldn't even track down her family to offer them some comfort.

I sure hoped Niall was all over that. I should call him, see how it was going.

"Penny for them," Meredith said, nudging me.

I startled and she laughed quietly. The others were getting up, already leaving. Hurriedly gathering my things, I said my goodbyes. Meredith followed me across the lot; her car was parked near mine.

"You were distracted today," she said once we were alone. She tapped her temple. "Were you listening to them?"

"So what if I was?" I said defensively, caught on the back foot.

"It wasn't a criticism. It's good to see you using your talent." She looked at me intently and I just knew she was using some fairy guardian trick, checking up on my emotional well-being in a strange and intrusive fairy way.

"Hm," she said, frowning slightly. "You're very tense."

"Just adjusting back to a quieter routine," I said, rooting in my purse for my keys so I could avoid her eyes. I didn't want her getting wind of the mess with Bardulf. She'd want to help, or worse tell Niall. "After the summit, I mean. All that supe excitement."

The look she gave me was far too piercing for my liking. "Yes. Nothing like an ex-husband to stir up … excitement. Is everything okay with Quinn?"

"Of course. We're fine. Everything's fine," I said breezily, wishing she'd ask about something else.

As if she was the telepath, she did. "You saw Niall. Did that meeting not go to your liking?"

"It went okay, I guess." Seeing a chance to throw her off the scent, I went on: "It's hard for me to understand him, you know? What with our, um, different upbringings and all. He mentioned that charm thing, but he didn't say much about it. Only that Fintan was good at it."

"Niall was fond of Fintan, by all accounts. I expect he is pleased you have that in common with his son." She tilted her head and examined me. "I can teach you how to use it if you'd like. It wouldn't take long, just a couple of afternoons. I'm free on Friday."

"Um, sure. But not this week," I said hurriedly, scrambling for an excuse to put her off. "I'm still catching up on shifts. And beauty sleep. Vampire hours don't do a girl any favours."

"Oh, of course." She shuddered. "All that death around you, I don't know how you could stand it. Are you free this afternoon? I was planning on getting a manicure. You're welcome to tag along."

"Sure, why not." It beat sitting in an empty house.

One excellent and successfully relaxing pamper session later, I had fabulous nails and an evening to myself. It was poker night and Quinn, following Desmond's advice to carry on as usual, had gone to Dylan's. I left Niall a message, ate a microwave dinner for one and found a chic flick to watch, which I enjoyed shamelessly without male company. After that, I caught up on a cooking show I liked. Halfway through an episode, the phone rang and I stared towards the hall like a deer in headlights.

Bardulf.

No, Niall calling me back.

It was neither: Linden, the local packmaster calling for Quinn, gruff and displeased to find himself speaking to me. Still sore over those wolves who died guarding me six months ago I reckoned, but I didn't begrudge him that. Making children fatherless was a lot to forgive. I took a message, respectfully minding my p's and q's.

Shortly after, Quinn called to say he'd be a while longer beating Dylan's ass and taking all his money. Hearty male laughter exploded in the background and Quinn sounded lighter than he had in days. Happy that we'd both gotten a chance to unwind, I took my latest romance to bed, eager to find out how the heroine escaped her dastardly kidnappers. Sleep overtook me with the girl still locked in a dark cellar and the dashing sea captain battling a storm to reach her in time.

Moonlight shone through a high barred window, casting pale distorted shadows on a dirt floor and sketching silver edges on rough stone walls and a sturdy door. The kidnappers were outside, their voices a low mumble. I strained to make out the dark corners of my prison, but I couldn't see a thing. I looked at the window again, could I reach it?

It was different. Stretched, taller. And lower now, at floor level. No, it wasn't a window. It was a pair of doors, with square glass panes. I recognised them, but I couldn't quite... Was that a low table, the outline of a chair? The den. I was in the den, lying on the couch.

In the dark. With a body over me. Quinn, warm and heavy.

"Mmm," I said, "you came to rescue me." Relaxing under his weight, I tilted my head to bring our mouths together and lost myself as our lips meet.

His kiss made my toes curl. Something hard and uncomfortable dug into my shoulder. What was I lying on?

Ground, hard-packed and dusty. The stench of hot metal and burning hair hung in the air. Two arms caged me, protected me, the body above me a solid barrier between me and harm. My hands slid under a heavy jacket, traced the familiar muscles of his back. Cool skin warmed under my touch, just as his cool lips warmed from our deepening kiss.

It felt so good, so right to have him pressed against me. Soft hair tickled my ear, fangs scraped my tongue teasingly. I moaned into his mouth, shifting under him. He broke off and said huskily, "Oh, do that again."

Those words, that voice...

Eric!

The shock catapulted me awake. Someone was in bed beside me in the dark. Disorientated, heart pounding, I reached out an urgent hand. It tangled in the sheets and it took forever to fumble it free. When I succeeded at last and my fingers hit an arm, I gasped in relief.

Quinn. Real, solid, warm. Here.

Snuffling softly in his sleep, he rolled over and threw an arm over my waist. The smell of bourbon and cigars washed over me, grounding me in reality as he murmured my name. I hushed him and once he stilled, slipped out of bed. Downstairs, I poured a glass of ice-cold water and gulped half of it down in the light spilling from the refrigerator. Closing the door and leaning against its coolness, I pressed the glass to my forehead as if its chill could freeze my whirling thoughts.

Shepherd of Judea, that dream was a doozy. Why in Heaven's name had I dreamt of Eric?

I spent a good few minutes telling myself my subconscious was a law unto itself and I couldn't be held responsible for the nonsense it threw out. It was just a dream, that was all. A girl couldn't stop her libido jumping up and down while she was asleep. Then I leaned my head back against the fridge and groaned softly.

There's no-one here to lie to Sookie, only yourself.

In all honesty, there was more to it than hormones. Twice I'd risked my life for Eric's. At the summit without a moment's thought and again, more deliberately, when we were facing Tabner. I'd spoken to Iowa and Rory on his behalf too, practically begged them both to have mercy on him much as Pam had begged me all those years ago.

I let out a long sigh and allowed myself to admit it.

What I'd said to Iowa was true: I did care about Eric. I cared what happened to him, and cared deeply. But that didn't mean we'd work as a couple. There was just too much against us for that. Not just Iowa and Rory, or Eric's position as king, or the wide gulf between our opinions of what was right and wrong. There was also our past, a past that still lay heavy between us.

Realistically, we didn't have a snowball in Hell's chance of fixing that. We were still the same stubborn people who made those mistakes; neither of us had changed and I doubted we ever would. Lions and gazelles don't change their colours any more than leopards change their spots.

A vague yearning for some grand lost romance just wasn't enough. Especially when that romance hadn't lived up to those grand expectations even when we were together, and it had little hope ever living up to what I wanted for myself. No, I was a grown-ass woman and I had to live in the real world.

It was time to put that impossible yearning away, in the box with other childish things.

Quinn was cheerful the next morning. I made waffles and in between syrupy bites he talked about his Mama's party as if Bardulf didn't exist. I played along, faking smiles that would have been real under other circumstances and hating Bardulf for spoiling what should have been a happier occasion.

Linden had been calling about the party. He owned a barn out of town a ways, hired it out to local twoeys for weddings and such. Really pretty place, Quinn said, on a parcel of land big enough that nosy neighbours weren't an issue if folks wanted to shift. Quinn wanted to do his Mama proud and, event planning being what he lived and breathed, he was going all out. Hiring the barn, tracking down a great band, even working on Marcie to persuade her to cater. That would be a real feather in his cap; Marcie didn't hire her kitchen staff out to other venues.

In my book a gal supported her boyfriend even if she didn't get on well with his family, so I offered to organise the decorating. I finished at the store early that day and used my free afternoon to make some calls. Halfway down my to-do-list, Niall rang to updated me. Things were 'progressing on the Nevada issue' as he put it, but it would be a week or so longer before he could wrap things up.

He was snippy. I apologised for bugging him and explained I was just worried about the folks being held there against their will. In case he, being a fairy and all, didn't realise that I, being human, was anxious to see my fellow humans freed.

"Yes, yes," he said dismissively, "but these things take time. Better to prepare the ground than be mired in the swamp."

"I thought that hell-hole was in the desert," I said, momentarily confused.

He chuckled. "It is a saying of ours. Swamp as in the, ah, political difficulties I must navigate, Sookie."

"Oh. Because you can't go in all guns blazing without revealing fairies to the world?"

"Yes, that. And," he said, a hardness creeping into his voice, "I cannot give de Castro the punishment he deserves without starting a war. Thus I have to act through others and that is tricky and time consuming to arrange."

"I get it," I said ruefully, "and I'll try to be patient. You'll let me know as soon as it's all over?"

"I will," he said. "Take heart, great-grandaughter. That place will soon be no more and that will be because of you."

That did make me feel a little better and that evening found me in a better mood. Quinn was real happy with the progress I'd made on the party and to keep the peace I even refrained from mentioning Bardulf.

The topic came up anyway, because I got word from Desmond Cataliades: everything was in hand at his end and Plan B was good to go if our blackmail scheme backfired. I promised, again, that I would keep in touch – he'd set up a way for me to contact him nightly and anonymously, as he couldn't very well send Diantha to keep an eye on things without tipping our hand. He was surprised that I'd heard nothing from Bardulf, but we both felt sure it would only be a matter of days.

The next morning it seemed we were right. I had a voicemail from Bertolini. February's schedule had been kept deliberately light after the summit, but there were a couple of events coming up in March that he wanted to go over with me, could I come into the office about nine that evening? I was sure Bardulf would pounce while I was there and I spent the day in a state of nervous anticipation. When I arrived Quinn was at the front desk, chatting with Dylan and the receptionist, an older African-American woman. Kiandra was a bitten were with an easy laugh and an unquenchable thirst for office gossip.

"Hey, babe," Quinn said. No sign of Bardulf yet.

"Hey, honey," I said, offering my cheek for a kiss and hoping I looked as relaxed as he did. His mind was clear and calm, ready for action in a way I was not. I'd scanned the building twice before I even got out of the car. "How was your day?"

"Good. Not much going on here."

Dylan held his hand to his chest dramatically. "What are we, chopped liver?"

"Oh hush, Dylan," Kiandra said, slapping his arm and chuckling. "You know all we got going on is water-cooler talk. Dylan always bring me the juiciest news, Sookie."

"Yeah?" I said, smiling at her. A distraction might settle the butterflies in my stomach. "He tell you anything good?"

She folded her ample arms on the desk and leaned forward, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Shawna in accounts is doing the dirty with the new guy in the mail room."

"Oh my," I said, shooting Dylan a raised eyebrow. He just shrugged and thought at me: Can't help what I smell. I pulled an 'Ew, gross!' face at him, but Kiandra, in full flow, didn't notice any of that.

"He's a mighty fine specimen," she continued with a wink, "if you know what I mean. And half her age. Lucky bitch. Shawna will chew that boy up and spit him out, mark my words." Then her eyes took on a malicious glint and her mind a gleeful hue, even though she kept her expression innocent. "I hear there's another big vampire shindig in the offing. We were just teasing Dylan for being way off-base about that. Lost a bet with the boys in accounts, didn't you Dylan?"

Quinn shifted slightly and I picked up he wasn't happy about where this was heading without reading his mind. Dylan was none too pleased either; he'd lost fifty bucks over whatever it was.

"A guy can't catch a break," he said sourly. "I thought for sure Iowa and Minnesota would be hitched before the end of the year. Those two were thick as thieves that last night in Louisville."

Oh shit. I knew where this was going.

Quinn's eyes darted to me, his mind pulsing with an apology tinged with curiosity, the sort of curiosity that was kissing cousins with jealousy. I kept my smile firmly in place as I riffled through Kiandra's mind. She'd expected this hot piece of gossip to rattle me and I wanted to know why. I'd been careful never to mention my history with vamps around the office.

Kiandra was busy chuckling at Dylan's misfortune. "Genius here," she said to me, "thought Iowa batted for entirely the wrong team. Turns out she's deep in negotiations with Louisiana and looks like they'll be the ones tying the knot. I hear he's a mighty fine specimen too." Her eye cut slyly to the side. "Say, you're from that neck of the woods, aren't you Sookie. You ever run into him?"

"Oh you know me, Kiandra." I smiled and shrugged, batting my eyelids modestly. "A lady never tells."

She knew, the bitch, knew way more than she should. Knew Eric and I had been pledged, even knew he'd divorced me for Freyda. And what Kiandra knew, the whole office knew a hot minute later.

Clarabel had told her. Clarabel, Bardulf's second and an even bigger bitch who never lowered herself to speak to bitten weres. Yet she'd taken the time to gossip with Kiandra about me.

To throw me off my game right before Bardulf pounced, I'd bet. This had his vicious fang-marks all over it.

Quinn, lips pursed, came to my rescue and made our excuses before Kiandra could stick the knife in some more. As I walked towards Bertolini's office, silently fuming, Quinn touched my hand.

Don't want her unsettled. Bardulf will exploit it...

As he searched for the right words to cool my temper I realised he was not only right, but also upset himself. By my anger, because he thought it meant something it didn't. Shit, we couldn't both be off our game.

"It's okay," I said quietly, aware of the ears around us. "Who Iowa marries is no concern of mine, Quinn. I'm just mad someone told that nosy bitch my business." I took his hand and squeezed. "Eyes on the prize, right? We have bigger fish to fry."

Pleased, he squeezed back. "We sure do, babe. You ready for this?"

Anger had chased away my nerves and I nodded resolutely. "Damn straight, I am."

Unfortunately, no fish were fried that night. Bardulf was a no-show and Bertolini was his usual affable self as we discussed a ragbag of upcoming pack and coven bookings. I could only hoped that my showing up at Special Events would provoke Bardulf into moving in for the kill.

And soon. I was itching to end this game of cat and mouse we were playing.

Quinn held the chair out for me like a gentlemen. It was Sunday and we were at Marcie's. There were candles on the tables, red roses for centrepieces and a live band taking requests. Valentine's was tomorrow.

"Thank you," I said, smiling at him. "This is just wonderful."

"You're a hard woman to surprise," he said grinning as he took his seat, pleased as punch with himself, "but it was worth it to see your face." Missed that smile. All the crap we got going on, she needs a treat.

"'That's mighty thoughtful of you," I said, silently thanking Amelia for the spell that allowed him to keep things from me. "And sneaky, springing this on me a day early."

"You don't mind?" he asked, waving a waitress over. Tomorrow's too risky. Hell, probably exactly what Bardulf's waiting for, a special occasion he can mess up.

The weekend had come and still nothing from that fanged menace to my sanity. The waiting had me ready to climb walls, and I'd worked at the store all day yesterday and run errands today to keep busy. Until Quinn ambushed me this afternoon with a beautiful bouquet of pink roses and an invitation to dinner.

A treat was just what I needed and nothing was going to spoil our date, least of all Bardulf, so I ignored Quinn's stray thought and answered his words. "I don't mind at all. As long as you don't mind waiting until tomorrow for your present."

His grin widened, lust flickering like flames in his eyes and his mind.

"Not that sort of present," I said quickly, my cheeks heating. Quinn looked mighty fine in his charcoal grey suit, but he'd have to make do with the card and sweater I'd bought this morning, as yet unwrapped. The shot was playing havoc with my cycle and Aunt Flo had arrived unexpectedly. First time in months too, damn it.

"I can wait," Quinn said, taking my hand across the table. "You look beautiful, babe."

"You're not so bad yourself," I murmured. He really did rock that suit, but it would look better on my bedroom floor. Quinn smiled as if he knew exactly where my thoughts had gone, but the waitress arrived before he could tease me about it.

Our meal was wonderful: oysters on the half shell, steak for Quinn, lobster for me, and a chocolate creation fit to die that we shared for dessert. The chef had really outdone himself. The conversation sparkled and flowed like the champagne and we talked about holidays we might take, places we each wanted to see, what college course I'd start in the fall and childhood friends Quinn wanted to visit in upstate New York. (That was where he and Frannie had been raised, something I'd been surprised to learn once we moved in together.) After coffee, Quinn took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and we took to the floor.

The man sure knew how to cut a rug, I can tell you. We danced to racy blues tracks and slow smoky jazz numbers alike, his hands firm and sure on my waist or holding mine as my feet glided through the steps, my head floating in a whirl of champagne and warm violet eyes. It was the perfect date. No bitten Weres jumping us, no interruptions. Just us, easy and natural with each other. This was how things were meant to be and it was worth dealing with all the supernatural jackasses to have it.

Back at the house, Quinn held the car door open for me. He kissed me on the porch step, sweet and gentle, the kiss tasting of a contentment that matched his thoughts. Inside he kissed me again, still sweet.

"Go on up, babe," he whispered. "I'll be right there."

Upstairs, I sat on the bed, took off my shoes and rubbed at the balls of my feet, yawning. I was pooped. Quinn came in and sat besides me, the tenor of his thoughts shifting and swirling slowly: blissful, calm, certain. I looked up, into eyes that glowed with affection as he reached over and took my hand. Turning it palm up, he slipped something small and square into it, covering it with his.

"This is a promise," he said, pressing whatever it was gently against my palm. "For the future, when the time comes, when we're both ready. This where I see us headed, Sookie, and I want you to know that. Same ring my grandfather gave my grandmother." He curled my fingers round it, squeezing my hand gently closed. "Keep hold of it. It's yours."

"Quinn..." My eyes filled. He was sure of us, real sure. I wasn't sure, not yet, not fully, but after tonight... I didn't know what to say.

"Hush, babe." He leaned in, brushed his lips against mine and said softly, "This is a promise, that's all."

When he'd slipped out of the room, I opened my hand. The box was dark green, worn at the corners. Inside, nestled in black silk was a beautiful ring. Gold, delicate, set with a modest purple stone a shade darker than Quinn's eyes. It was as perfect as our date.

"Oh Quinn," I whispered, blinking back tears. If he kept this up, I'd be ready sooner than either of us expected.

"A penny for them," said a voice from behind me and I flinched at the unexpected noise, jerking the cup in my hand. Coffee sloshed out of it, spilling on my jeans, and I cussed under my breath.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Ursula gasped, rushing around the break room couch and taking the dripping cup from me. "I thought you'd heard me come in."

"It wasn't your fault," I said, hurrying to the sink in the corner to wet a cloth. "I was miles away."

"Yes, you were. You have been all day."

I could practically taste her curiosity, but I concentrated on wetting the stain and didn't reply.

Quinn had melted my heart last night, but the cold light of morning had dispelled my champagne-tinted glasses and filled me with doubt. I'd been spacey all day and Ursula wasn't the only one who'd noticed. Meredith had been driving me crazy, clucking over me like a mother hen and repeatedly asking what was wrong, coaxing but persistent.

I didn't want to share Quinn's romantic gesture with my fairy guardian. Or my uncertainty over what I should do about it. She'd already asked if it was Eric who'd unsettled me a couple times, and that fire didn't need fanning. But I wanted to confide in someone. Someone impartial, someone who wouldn't leap to conclusions. And that wasn't Meredith.

Boy, was I missing Michelle and Kennedy. Pam too. They always talked sense, even if I didn't listen to it.

Stain finally lifted, I rinsed out the cloth, grabbed a bunch of paper towels and sat down opposite Ursula. As usual she had a book open on her lap, but she took off her reading glasses and let them dangled on the chain around her neck as she watched me blot at the damp patch on my jeans. She didn't say a word, she just waited.

That, in the end, was what clinched it.

"Quinn gave me his granddaddy's ring," I said quietly. When I snuck a look at her face, she was composed, still waiting patiently for whatever I would say next, so I obliged her. "An engagement ring. The one his granddaddy gave his grandmother. Said I could keep hold of it until we were ready."

"And you're not," Ursula said, closing her book and putting it aside.

"No, not yet." Staring down at the wad of paper pressed against my thigh, I couldn't help imagining that gorgeous ring on my empty finger. "But I want to be."

"Are you in love with him?"

"No. Not in love, no. I have affection for him. Deep, deep affection." Affection that could edge into love any day. I reckoned Quinn felt the same, but neither of us were rushing to put a name on it. We both had baggage and neither of us wanted to jinx it.

"Good." Ursula answered my surprised look with a twitch of her lips. "Oh, I know. We're all supposed to want romance, want to be swept off our feet, but I've seen people in love. Sometimes it seems to me that all that means is a do-anything-for-them craziness, a madness that is repented bitterly after the spell has passed. Love that grows out of affection is steadier, in my experience, lasts longer. Does he treat you right?"

"Oh yes. He's a good man."

"In bed too?" She laughed at my blush. "Forgive an old woman her curiosity. I wondered if there was a grain of truth to all that nonsense about his kind being amazing lovers, in touch with their animal side."

"Oh, um... Well. Let's just say Quinn and I are definitely compatible in that area."

"Good. If you're hitching your horse to his wagon, you want a smooth ride." She chuckled, deep and earthy, as I choked on my coffee. "So what's is holding you back, Sookie? Something about him make you uneasy?"

Apart from his mother coming to town?

No, that was unfair. Mama Quinn would only be here for a few days and she wasn't such a liability now, what with Timas and Frannie living so close and keeping an eye on her. Was it something about Quinn himself? I didn't think so. We got along just fine, that nonsense about putting his scent all over me aside. That I put down to Eric and the summit stirring up ghost from Rhodes best laid to rest.

"No. We disagree from time to time, of course we do." I shrugged. "But not enough to give me pause."

"Hm. Do these disagreements relate to him being… Two-natured is their preferred term, isn't it?"

I opened my mouth to deny that and grimaced. Human men certainly didn't stake a claim on a gal in quite the same way. "Some of our falling-outs are down to that," I admitted reluctantly. "There are things he does that I don't fully understand."

"Cultural differences aren't easy to overcome, I know. But you don't strike me as the type to get cold feet over that. Unless…" She tilted her head. "Is this about your ex-husband?"

Startled, I almost dipped into her mind. Then I realised what she meant: Ursula didn't know about Eric, only that I'd been married to Sam, and not much about that except he was a twoey and we'd run a bar together.

"You don't talk about him," she explained, her eyes filled with concern. "I assume it ended badly."

"It … wasn't pretty," I said slowly, scrunching up my nose. Maybe that was it. Bernie's constant interference had been no picnic and I could never be the shifter she wanted for her precious son. Maybe I was a little worried that Quinn's mom felt the same way, but there was plenty more than Bernie wrong in that marriage and I liked to think Quinn and I had a stronger relationship. I sighed. "Marrying Sam was a huge mistake. I guess I'm just reluctant to take that step again."

"That's only natural. But you can't judge one man by another, even if they are both two-natured. Are they very alike?"

"Sam and Quinn?" I laughed. "Not a bit."

"So it's not that. Hm." She chewed on the end of her glasses for a moment. "This Sam of yours, how did he propose?"

"Oh," I said, blinking. "Well, it was Christmas. He got down on one knee and whipped out a ring. Gave me the whole 'Would you do me the honour?' spiel right there in front of God and everyone."

"Everyone?" she asked, picking up on the slight bitterness in my tone.

"My brother and his wife, Tara and her husband."

"Who's this Tara?"

"A good friend of mine. Well, was." I sighed again. "We go way back, but we had a falling out when I left Bon Temps. We used to double date sometimes, the four of us. They were all there that Christmas, and they all knew Sam was gonna propose. Except for me."

"You don't sound too pleased about that."

"I'm not. Having them all there, it made me feel pressured." Buffeted by their feelings, their excitement, and I was sure Sam had set that up that deliberately. "Tricked into it," I added resentfully, thinking of a knife in a velvet bag and another so-called marriage.

"Quinn took you out for dinner, didn't he?" When I looked at Ursula in surprise she explained, "I overheard you telling Meredith. Was that where he gave you this ring, in a restaurant with a crowd of strangers as witnesses?"

"Oh, no. Not at the restaurant. At his house, when we were alone."

"Not the way Sam did things, then. No reminder of that. So what is it about this proposal that has you spooked?"

"Oh, it's not a proposal," I corrected. "It's a promise. That's what Quinn called it. A promise that he's serious, that marriage is where he sees us heading. When we're both ready, he said."

"I see," she said. "And he gave you this ring to keep hold of. So it's all down to you, ball's in your court. That's a heavy responsibility, no wonder you're petrified."

"Yeah, I am a little panicked," I admitted, laughing weakly. It was terrifying, having the power to decide our joint future, make or break both our happinesses. "Does it show?"

"A little." She smiled, her eyes warm as she patted my knee. "Seems to me Quinn is giving you a choice, Sookie."

"I guess he is," I said slowly. Quinn hadn't stacked the deck in his favour like Sam had, hadn't tricked me into anything like Eric. "I hadn't thought of it like that."

"Hm-mm. My advice is take your time; the man is obviously patient enough to wait. No need to rush into anything."

"Thanks, Ursula," I said, smiling properly for the first time that day. I didn't know if I was ready for what Quinn was offering, or if I'd ever be, but being given the time to think it over was a gift I wouldn't squander. "You talk a lot of sense."

"Ah, that comes with age." She smiled ruefully. "I've turned down more than one proposal in my day. I know how hard it is to break a man's heart."

...


A/N: Yep, I went there. Yell at me in the reviews if you need to, I'm braced for it ;-)