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The salesman appeared at Ruari’s elbow.
“Can I help you with anything this evening?”
“Yeah,” Ruari said. “We’ll take this one.”
The salesman’s name badge read BRIAN, and Brian’s handshake lasted two pumps longer than it needed to. His gaze had snagged on Ruari’s face and was doing the thing that happened roughly once a fortnight in London, the slow blink, the recalibration as he was recognised.
“Hold on. You’re not — you’re Ruari Thorne! Villa. You had that brilliant hat-trick against Spurs.” Brian’s grip tightened on Ruari’s hand. “I was at that match with my dad, mate. And you put the third one top bins from twenty-five yards with your left foot. My dad threw his pint over the bloke in front of us, he was that excited!”
Ruari grinned so wide his face ached. “Your dad sounds like a good bloke.”
“He’s a season-ticket holder. He’s going to lose his mind when I tell him you bought a car off me.” Brian released his hand and gestured at the Racing Green Cooper. “So, the Cooper. Lovely choice. Shall we talk finance options, or—”
“Cash,” Ruari said.
Brian blinked once. “Cash.”
“I want it outside his house tomorrow morning. Whatever paperwork needs doing, we’ll do it now, and whatever doesn’t, we’ll do later.” Ruari clapped Brian on the shoulder hard enough that the man rocked forward. “And I want the bow.”
“The bow?”
“The massive red one. The congratulations bow. You lot stick them on the bonnet for photos, yeah? I want that. Full ceremony. My omega’s just got his first car and he deserves the bow.”
Brian looked between Ruari and Cassian, who was still sitting in the driver’s seat pressing every button within reach. “Give me twenty minutes.”
The bow was magnificent. It covered most of the Cooper’s bonnet in a cascade of glossy red ribbon that caught the showroom’s overhead lights, and Cassian stood beside it with both hands pressed to his gaping mouth.
Ruari pulled out his mobile. “Get in there, Cass. Kiss me next to it.”
Cassian launched himself at Ruari with enough force to send him staggering. His arms locked around Ruari’s neck, his legs left the ground, and the kiss he landed was hard and sugary from the Tangfastics he’d been demolishing in the passenger seat on the way over.
Ruari held him one-armed, angled his mobile with the other, and took the shot: Cassian’s face nuzzled up to him, the bow filling the background, with the Racing Green Cooper gleaming behind them both.
Cassian dropped to his feet, snatched the mobile, and began typing with both thumbs at a speed that Ruari had never seen him achieve before.
“What are you doing?”
“Sending the photo to Felix.” Cassian’s thumbs flew. “He’s going to be so jealous, Ruari. He doesn’t have a car. Now I’ve got a green one and I chose it myself. My alpha bought me a car.”
Brian reappeared with two flutes of champagne and a sheaf of paperwork tucked under his arm. Ruari took a glass, let Cassian take the other, and watched the omega sip it with both hands wrapped around the stem.
The champagne was dreadful. Warm, flat, the sort of fizz that car dealerships kept in a cupboard for exactly this occasion. Ruari drank it in one go and held the empty glass while Brian walked him through the documents, and Cassian circled the Cooper with his mobile held out in front of him, narrating a video tour for the MOAN group chat.
Cassian had set his flute on the roof of the Cooper after two sips. Ruari picked it up before it left a ring on the paint, and then he drank it, since he wasn’t one to waste alcohol.
Ruari let Brian’s voice wash over him. The numbers were just numbers. None of it landed next to the fact that Cassian was beaming like the happiest omega in the world.
Chapter Fourteen
The retail park was deserted by the time Ruari pulled in, which was the whole point. He’d been driving them back from Chiswick with Cassian’s bare feet on the dashboard and Cassian’s hand on his thigh. Somewhere around Hammersmith it had migrated north as Cassian’s fingertip traced the fly of his jeans and the hardening outline of his cock.
He swung the Range Rover into the far corner of the car park, behind a skip and a row of recycling bins that shielded them from the road, killed the engine, and turned to find Cassian already unbuckling his seatbelt.
“Hi,” Cassian said, climbing over the centre console towards him.
Ruari caught him by the waist before his knee landed on the handbrake. “Back seat, Cass.”
Getting into the back of a Range Rover from the front required a degree of contortion that neither of them executed with dignity. Ruari went first, wedging himself between the front seats while his shoulder clipped the rear-view mirror and knocked it sideways. Cassian followed with more enthusiasm than spatial awareness, his heel digging into Ruari’s ribs as he scrambled over.
