Fifty Frogs (The Anti-Cinderella Chronicles Book 4)

by Tawdra Kandle

  Pretty words, but they made me a little uncomfortable. Maybe I’d gotten used to Jeremy and how stingy he’d been with compliments, but this felt like too much, too soon. I laughed lightly to cover my uneasiness.

  “Well, I’m not that old-fashioned. Maybe I prefer the term ‘principled’.”

  “Also a good one.” He finished his beer and lifted a hand to signal the bartender for another.

  “What do you do? I assume serving wine to horny women who paint isn’t your life’s dream.” I tilted my head. “And if it is, and I’ve just insulted you and your ambition, my apologies.”

  Craig chuckled. “No, that’s just a way to help pay the bills. I’m a doctoral candidate at the college. In between ripping out my soul to write my thesis, I work at the wine and canvas place, and I also have a part-time job at the library on campus.”

  “Ooooh, the library. I always wanted to work there. I volunteered one semester while I was a student. So, what’s your doctorate going to be in? What do you study?”

  His eyes rested on me for a few minutes before he answered. The bartender slid his new beer across the bar and took the empty. “Literature. Specialized literature.”

  “Then our topics of interest really aren’t that different, are they? I was an English major, too, although I concentrated in journalism instead of lit.” I took a sip of my club soda. “When you say specialized, do you mean to a time period, like medieval or eighteenth century? Or do you mean a location, like British or American?”

  “Uh, it’s more topical than confined to a time or a place.” He lifted his beer to his mouth, took a drink and then wiped off his lips. “My thesis is on erotic literature.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what to say about that. I wasn’t a prude by any means, but I didn’t think I was the right audience for erotica, either. “That’s . . . interesting.”

  “It really is.” He leaned closer to me. “You can tell a lot about a person by their reaction to certain types of erotic stories.”

  An icky feeling began to creep up my spine. I didn’t like where this was going. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes.” He released my hand, moving his down to land on my thigh. “Of course, sometimes it takes a little while for someone to relax enough to see what her true feeling is. I’ve known women who had a knee-jerk reaction, swearing that they hated erotica, but once I’d read them a few, they changed their minds and realized how much they loved it.”

  “Huh.” I wanted to move away from his touch, but there were people crowded behind me, and I couldn’t go anywhere.

  “Not that I push it.” Abruptly, Craig moved back, wrapping both hands around his beer. “Some people are open-minded, and some aren’t. That’s just how it goes.”

  Now I felt completely judged. “Maybe some people just have different tastes. You know, like some people like mint chocolate chip ice cream, and some don’t.”

  “I’m not talking about differences in tastes. I’m talking about willingness to step outside the boxes we make for ourselves. How can you know you don’t like mint chocolate chip ice cream if you never take a bite?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, almost as though he was challenging me.

  “Oompf!” The man standing behind me fell against my back, and I nearly tumbled off the stool. He mouthed an apology to me, and I nodded to show I accepted.

  “It’s getting really crowded and loud in here.” Craig stood up and offered me his hand. “Do you want to go outside? At least we could hear each other.”

  “Uh . . .” I glanced around. Lauren and Audrey were talking with two guys at the bar, while Holly and Tyla were still nursing drinks. “Let me tell my friends where we’re going.”

  Craig nodded. “I’ll take care of the tab while you do that.”

  I fished a ten-dollar bill from my pocket and handed it to him. “That should cover mine and the tip.”

  He held up his hands. “You don’t have to do that. I can buy your club soda.”

  I shook my head. “I insist. You’re a starving grad student. This is the least I can do.”

  With a small shrug, he took the money and called the bartender again. I pushed through a couple of people to tug at Holly’s sleeve. When she turned to me, I stepped closer so she could hear me.

  “I’m just going outside with Craig. If I’m not out there when you go, or if I don’t come back inside, call the police.”

  She waggled her eyebrows at me. “Ooooh, a little alone time? You work fast.”

  “Not really.” I rolled my eyes. “We’re just talking, and it’s too loud in here. I’ll be back.”

  “Sure, you will.” Holly smirked. “But hey, no judgement here. Go for it.”

  I sighed and turned around. Craig was already by the door, waiting for me, and when I reached his side, he took my hand again, leading me outside into the quieter dark.

  “That’s better.” The door closed behind us, but we weren’t totally alone. The bar was in the same strip mall as the canvas and wine place, so people were milling around, enjoying pizza from the same place we’d gotten ours earlier or licking ice cream cones from the dessert shop on the other side of the bar. I found a spot to lean against the rough brick wall.

  “I don’t really like bars,” I confessed. “Unless it’s really early in the evening, when there aren’t so many people there.”

  “Really?” Craig rested one hand on the wall next to my head, leaning into me. “I find them a good place to study people. You learn a lot.”

  “I guess so.” My heart began to beat a little faster. I had a feeling we were growing closer to my very first frog kiss of this adventure. “Uh, I have a friend who writes fiction, and she likes to hang out at bars or restaurants to see how people relate to each other.”

  “Exactly.” He dropped his head closer to mine and used one finger to brush my hair away from my neck. “You can tell how a man feels about a woman by how long he holds her gaze. And if he’s totally focused on her, his body language shows it. His whole body leans toward her. If he’s not that interested, he’ll often angle himself away from her.”

  I swallowed. “And what about the woman? How does she act?”

  Craig skimmed his lips over my cheek, and I shivered as he spoke in a whisper. “She stares deep into his eyes, and her lips part a little . . .” My own mouth fell slightly open. “Her pupils dilate, and she touches him wherever she can. His hand . . . his arm . . . his face . . .” His breath was warm on my jaw. “That’s how he knows she wants him to kiss her.”

  I took a breath to respond, but his lips closed over mine. One part of my brain went immediately into analytical mode. Frog Kiss Number One: lips are . . . mushy, like he’s trying to meld into me or something. And his hands on my neck make me all itchy. But I can’t pull away, because I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Shouldn’t a kiss be more compelling? Like, exciting enough that I shouldn’t be thinking about all of this right now?

  Finally, Craig lifted his head, resting his forehead against mine. It felt like a practiced move, and I felt even slimier inside.

  “That was good, wasn’t it? Mmmm, you’re hot.” His fingers slid down to my upper arms. “Do you want to come home with me?”

  The slime in me turned to concrete, and I felt a little nauseated. “You know, thanks, that’s really nice, but we just met. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable with that.”

  “Come on . . .” His voice turned wheedling. “It’s fine. I promise, you don’t even have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to. You can just watch.”

  “Watch?” I shrank down the wall to get a little distance from him. “Watch what?”

  He grinned. “Your choice. We’re really adventurous, so think of it as an all-you-can-eat buffet. The menu is limitless.”

  Now panic began to set in. “Um, who’s we?” Was he in some kind of weird sex cult? Or did he have multiple personalities up there in that brain?

  “Me and my girlfriend, Daneen. She’s going to love you.”

  “Okay. That’
s the end of this.” Ducking under his arm, I took a step toward the door of the bar. “And here I thought you were actually a normal guy. I thought I’d found the needle in the haystack. The diamond in the rough. But no. You’re just a weirdo pretending to be normal.”

  Craig had the audacity to appear offended. “Hey, listen. Don’t go projecting all your uptight hang-ups on me. Just because you’re close-minded doesn’t mean I’m the one who’s abnormal. Maybe you’re the weirdo. Ever consider that?”

  “Never.” I didn’t have to think hard about that one. “Or if I am, trust me, I’m comfortable with that. I’d say it was nice to meet you, but that would be a lie. Good night. Go home to your girlfriend and tell her you’re lucky you got away with both of your balls intact, because if I’d been less surprised, I probably would’ve kneed you in the nut sack.”

  Grabbing hold of the door handle, I yanked it hard enough to bang it against the wall as I stomped into the bar. Holly and Lauren were standing near the entrance.

  “Hey! What happened to lover boy?” Lauren asked.

  I shuddered. “Let’s just say that I kissed a frog, and he turned into a creep, not a prince. Are you on your way out?”

  “Yeah.” Holly shrugged. “We’re done.”

  “Can I talk you into an ice cream cone next door before you take off? I need to end this night on a somewhat-positive note.”

  “Make mine mint chocolate chip, and you’re on.” Lauren slung an arm around my neck. “As long as you promise to tell us what that dude said that made you look so mad and so green all at the same time. I do love me a good creeper story.”

  “HEY, AUNT GAIL, I’M HOME.” I dropped my handbag onto the counter and dragged out a kitchen chair to collapse into it. “And if I don’t see another yippee dog again until Monday, it’ll be too soon.”

  “Ooooooh.” Aunt Gail’s heels clicked against the glossy tile as she strode into the kitchen. “And here I was about to ask you a favor.”

  I opened one eye to check her out. “Damn, you look great! Where are you off to?”

  “I have the quarterly meeting of the theater board tonight. It’s almost the only time I dress up anymore these days. I have to admit, I like it.” She gave me a dramatic little twirl. “Once upon a time in Florida, we actually wore clothes that weren’t shorts and flip flops. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. There was fashion down here in the good old days.”

  I nodded. “That was something I noticed during my train adventure. People in the north really do dress differently than we do, and it’s not just because of the weather.” I paused. “Not on the train, though. I’m pretty sure all fashion dies on Amerails.”

  Aunt Gail shook her head. “That’s so sad. There was a time when people actually dressed up to travel—not just the train, but on airplanes, too.” She fixed me with a beady stare. “And by dressing up, I don’t mean putting on all of their clothes at once.”

  “I’m never going to live that one down, am I?” I groaned. “You’ll be telling that story at every one of my special occasions.”

  “At least until I get dementia and forget your name.” She winked at me. “Something for you to look forward to.”

  “Thanks.” I stretched out my legs. “I can just see you, my mom and my dad, all hanging out in the memory unit, arguing about stuff that happened fifty years ago. I’ve got quite the future to look forward to, don’t I?”

  “You really are blessed.” She kissed the top of my head. “You know, I joke about all of this, but you and Shelby really are the closest things I have to family. I’ve always been grateful that your mom shared you with me when you were growing up, and now, I’m really happy that I have this time with you. If I haven’t said that before, I’m saying it now. You make my boring old lady life a lot more interesting.”

  I grinned. “You mean when I come home with stories about men inviting me to threesomes?”

  Aunt Gail chuckled. “That’s definitely part of it. But just by being you, you add pizazz to my life.”

  “I do my best.” I sighed. “So now that you’ve made me all mushy with your compliments, what’s this favor you need?”

  “Oh, it’s not that big a deal. Can you walk Buster for me? I need to leave for the meeting, and the poor guy really needs to get out. With the rainy afternoons lately, he’s been missing his walks.”

  “That I can do.” I reached down to rub the dog’s soft head. “Buster doesn’t fall into the yippy dog category. He’s the strong, silent type.”

  Aunt Gail quirked a brow at me. “Yeah . . . sure, he is. Just don’t turn to the left when you walk him, because that takes you past the Genardos’ house, and they have those two little Chihuahuas who Buster hates.”

  “He doesn’t hate anyone, do you, baby?” I scooped him up and nuzzled his neck. “He’s a lover, not a fighter.”

  “Yeah, well . . . don’t put that theory to the test while you’re walking. He’s stronger than he looks, and he’ll drag you down the street if you don’t pay attention.” She unhooked his leash from its place on the wall and handed it to me. “Don’t forget to bring poop bags, too. God forbid any of the neighbors think we’re not cleaning up after him. They’ll report us to the home owners’ association, and it’ll be a huge fucking deal.”

  I pretended to be shocked. “Aunt Gail! My virgin ears.”

  She cackled. “Honey, that might fly with your mom and dad, but not me. Speaking of those lovely people, did you get your mom’s text, that they’d reached the first stop safely?”

  “I did.” My parents had departed Florida two days before amid as much fanfare as Aunt Gail and I could muster. They’d left in their beautiful RV, which was packed to the gills. The film crew which would meet them at various National Parks had come to film the send-off, pleasing them both to no end.

  This afternoon, I’d received a text that they were in Virginia at Manassas, the site of the first battle of the Civil War. Mom had sent a picture of Daddy with his hand on a cannon, smiling broadly.

  “They’re going to have the time of their lives. I’m so happy for the two of them.” Aunt Gail sniffed a little. “All right. Enough sentiment. I’m off to enjoy a scintillating evening of reports on the state of central Florida theater. Try not to be too jealous.”

  “Buster and I will launch out on our walk as soon as you’re gone. Have a good time, and behave yourself. I don’t want any calls from the police about me coming to bail you out of the pokey.”

  I gave her a few minutes to get in the car and leave before I pulled out some plastic shopping bags from the box Aunt Gail kept near the door, tugging Buster along with me. For some reason none of us could ever figure out, while the dog loved walks, he hated leaving the house. Once I got him over the threshold, he’d be fine. But convincing him of that was always a challenge.

  I finally gave up and carried him through the door, shutting it behind me and then setting him back on the ground. “There you go, Mr. Prissy Paws. Let’s get moving before it starts to rain.”

  Buster flicked his ears at me and began trotting down the driveway, his brisk gait making it seem as though I was the one dragging my feet. Heeding Aunt Gail’s warning, I turned right at the end of the drive and headed for the corner. Buster, a dog of routine and habit, stopped at a clump of bushes, at a pile of leaves and then at the stereotypical fire hydrant before we turned onto the next street over.

  And that was where trouble hit.

  We’d just rounded the corner, with Buster’s leash loose around my wrist, when he suddenly and without warning launched himself forward like a rocket. The leash went taut, and I was pulled along behind the racing dog, trying to avoid tripping at the same time that I attempted to rein him in.

  “Buster! Stop! Heel! Halt!” I yelled all the commands I could think of at the top of my lungs, but none had any effect. I glanced ahead to see what had made him turn into crazy pup, and my heart plunged. Several yards away on the sidewalk, our neighbor Charlie stood with a large dog on a leash.
He’d turned to look at us, since now Buster was barking like mad, but before he could yank his dog out of the way, Buster was on top of it, jumping and leaping and half-howling as though he were some kind of hound dog who’d treed a fox.

  “Whoa there! Hey!” Charlie stepped back, trying to keep his dog from being attacked by the nipping whirlwind that was Buster. I mustered up my courage and dove into the maelstrom, wrapping my arms around the smaller dog’s middle and hauling him up against me.

  The minute he was in my arms, Buster went limp, panting and wagging his small tail as if nothing untoward had happened.

  “I’m so sorry.” I held Buster away from Charlie and his still-silent dog. “I’ve never seen him like this. He just went crazy. Is your dog all right?”

  Charlie dropped to his haunches, reminding me of the day he’d helped us wrangle the turtle. “Yeah, she’s good. No cuts, no wounds. I think he was more bark than bite.” He stood up again. “So this is your dog?”

  “No, this is Aunt Gail’s dog. And his name is usually Buster, but right now it’s mud.” I scowled at the culprit, who only wagged his tail even harder, thumping it against my ribcage. “Is this your dog or your grandpa’s?”

  “Oh, Angel’s my baby.” He leaned down to rub her head, and the sweet thing looked up at him with huge soulful eyes. “She moved down here with me from Philadelphia. She’s loving the new Florida lifestyle—between the warm weather, the lake and all the birds to watch, she’s in hog heaven.”

  “Or dog heaven,” I quipped.

  “True.” He smiled. “Vivian, right?”

  “Yep.” I returned the smile. “And you’re Charlie. Rescued any more turtles lately?”

  He laughed. “No, I’ve tried to widen my repertoire. Now I’m on to saving ducks and frogs.”

  I choked a little, covering it up with a cough. “Frogs, huh? I’ve seen quite a few of them around here, too, lately.”

  “I guess living on a lake, you’ve got to expect that.” He ran his hand over his hair, leaving it a mess. “You’re living with your aunt, aren’t you?”

  “For now, I am.” I shifted Buster from one side to the other. “I was away for three months on a residency, and while I was gone, my roommate’s boyfriend moved into our apartment, my parents sold their house, and the, um, living situation I thought I’d have kind of fell through. Aunt Gail was kind enough to let me crash with her until I figure out my next move.”