Page 3 of The Quirky Vet

Maybe this whole shitshow with Maisey and Erin isn't the end of the world.

We've got good lives waiting for us back home in Scuttlebutt. Jobs we love. The best friends a bloke could hope for. A town full of eccentric people with big, welcoming hearts.

And we've got each other.

More shots slide over to me. I start passing them to the guy behind me, but Fitz shakes his head. "Nah, mate. Those are for you."

I look down and count. "All three?"

His eyebrows twitch playfully. "Yep. All three. Need to get this night lit."

Once all the guys in the group are armed with three shots, we throw 'em back one after the other. Ow, my poor lower back.

"Fuck, that was rough," I sputter, wincing hard after the third tequila shot.

"It's a lot," the muscle dude next to me agrees, his face sour. He tips his chin towards Fitz. "So, how long have you two been together?"

"Oh, we're not?—"

"Since we were ten," Fitz breaks into the convo.

The guy's jaw drops. Oh, no. Wait. He's licking some salt from his hand. He glances back up at us. "Did you say ten?"

"That's when we met," I clarify. "We're best mates. That's it. Neither one of us is?—"

"Why are you lying to our new friend?" I recognise that shit-eating grin on Fitz's face. "Just tell him the truth."

"Which is?"

"That we're not just best mates, we're soulmates, duh." Fitz turns to our new friend. "You'll have to forgive Muir. He was born with a medical condition known as stickupthebutt-itis. It makes him a little uptight, and he takes some time to open up to people."

"I am not uptight." I cross my arms completely un-uptightly.

"Cool." The muscle dude smiles. "In that case, wanna head back to mine for some three-way action?"

"Okay. So maybe I'm a little uptight."

The guy chuckles. "Relax. I was kidding. But seriously, how do you know each other?"

"I'll let you handle this, mate," Fitz says, then begins unbuttoning his shirt.

Everyone in the group stops what they were doing and oglesmy best friend's impressive rig. They're all smooth, gym-toned city boys so maybe they're not used to seeing the type of body that's a product of working out in the field under the beating sun.

The flashes of neon light cast sharp shadows across his toned, sun-bronzed, and slightly hairy chest. The beams catch every sculpted line of his flexing muscles as he tucks his shirt into the back of his pants. We're both in good shape, but Fitz's body is next level.

My heart beats harder against my ribs.

"Who's coming to dance?" he asks, raising his fist in the air, oblivious to all the attention the guys are giving him.

They all flock behind him as he heads out onto the dance floor. Fitz has the good sense not to even bother asking me since he knows what my response will be—no fucking way. There isn't enough alcohol in the world to make me lose my inhibitions enough to actually dance in public.

I can tell the guy I'm standing next to is itching to join them. "It's okay. You can go, too. I'll watch everyone's…"

I was going to saypurses, but I guess that's not a thing with dudes.

"It's okay. I'll catch up with them in a sec. I want to hear more about you guys."

There's something funny about the way he saysyou guys, but I can't figure out what it is. The tequila shots are catching up to me.

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