by Kim Deister
Forget the fire. Forget the fact that Luna was still hoping around like a psychotic rabbit. Forget the fact that she proved once again that she sucked as a watchdog. Sitting on the couch was a stranger, arms resting on his thighs as he leaned forward to pet Luna. A gorgeous stranger with hair so dark it was almost black and just enough stubble to be sexy instead of scrubby. He was covered in tattoos and there were thick silver spirals in both ears. He wore a long-sleeved, black t-shirt tight enough to show every rippling muscle. When he stood up, I could see that his faded jeans were just as deliciously snug over black boots. The guy, whoever the hell he was, was mouth-watering. But I was focusing on all the wrong things. His gorgeousness was not what I should be thinking about right now. As he took a step towards me, I finally managed to get it together.
“Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my house?”
Instead of answering me, he shot me a rueful grin that would leave a stronger woman than me weak in the knees. It was devastating enough that it took me a moment or two to comprehend that he’d spoken.
“Um, well… I’ve actually been here for the last few weeks.” His voice was deep with the lilt of an Irish brogue. It was more than enough to stir the butterflies in my stomach. The guy was too hot for his own good, definitely too hot for my own good. And, once again, it took my mind too long to catch up with his words.
“What the hell are you talking about? I'm pretty sure I would have noticed that.” How could someone not notice a guy like this? “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you are, but you need to get the hell out of my house or I’m calling the cops.”
I sounded tough, which sure as hell wasn’t how I felt. I wasn't sure how I felt. Somewhere between fear, anger, and full-blown swooning. The raised eyebrows and challenging grin told me he knew it. But when he looked down at the end table next to him before meeting my eyes again, I realized that the grin wasn't about my potential for swooning. There was my cell phone, way too far away from me and way too close to him. Well, crap. Even the cordless in the kitchen wasn't an option. It was a direct shot for him, but unless I wanted to make a run for it by him, I had to go the long way to the other door.
Damn it. I hadn’t planned for this, but then again, I didn’t think most people planned for gorgeous men to break into their houses. I calculated the odds of being able to race back upstairs unscathed to another phone. Judging by the size and bulk of the guy, the odds weren’t good.
He took another step towards me and I backed up until my back slammed into the wall, almost falling to the floor when my feet slipped out from under me. It was not one of my more graceful moments as I scrambled to get my footing. Slippers were not made for the effective evasion of hot strangers in my house. I kicked them off and they flew towards the mysterious man in the living room facing me. One of them smacked him in the chest and fell to the floor in front of him. I had to stifle the urge to giggle. I had a bad habit of finding things hilarious at the worst possible moments. He looked amused as he raised both hands in surrender.
“I promise you, Cassidy. I have been here since the day of your niece's gathering. I am Finn.”
Um, what? I stared at him in shock. Of course. He’s bat shit crazy. Things just worked that way in my world. He was gorgeous, too gorgeous to be anything other than certifiably insane. He was unquestionably nuts, considering the fact that he had just informed me that he was an amphibian. And not just any amphibian, but my niece’s beloved frog. Alrighty, then.
I took a step to the side, ready to run back up the stairs, no matter what my odds. I had every intention of locking myself in the bedroom with the phone and calling for help. He took another step towards me, one hand stretched out towards me. That was all it took. I turned and ran for the stairs. I only made it up a few steps when I heard his voice behind me and I froze in place.
“You kissed me.” He said the words so softly that, at first, I wasn’t sure I’d actually heard him speak. “Upstairs. In your studio. You kissed me.”
I stepped back down and turned to stare at him. My mind was racing. He was obviously delusional, but he sounded so sure of himself. The implications of what he said sent chills down my spine.
“Excuse me?”
“I said that you kissed me. In your studio.”
“I heard what you said,” I snapped. He looked at me with an expression of total bewilderment. Welcome to the club, pal. I’m pretty damn confused, too. “Believe me, I haven’t been doing much kissing lately and I sure as hell haven’t today.”
“But that isn’t quite true, is it?”
This was getting weirder by the moment. How the hell does he know that? Hot or not, he was a contender for the most bizarre encounter I’d ever had and that was saying something. After all, I had the foot-loving Melvin and the lingerie-stealing Connor as comparisons.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’d remember kissing you. I don’t know you from Jack,” I snapped, stubbornly deny that niggling little thought at the back of my mind.
“Jack? Who’s Jack? I told you. I’m Finn.” His eyebrows pinched together in confusion as he tried to figure out what I was talking about.
Oh, God. He really is nuts. Or dumber than hell, which would also be my luck. Gorgeous and dumb. But he didn’t look stupid, if stupid had a look. Maybe he had escaped from an institution. Someone somewhere was probably searching for him right at this moment. Hotter than hell and nuttier than a fruitcake. It wasn’t a good sign that I was babbling in my own head.
I was so busy thinking about how crappy my luck was that I stopped paying attention to the gorgeous potential serial killer in my living room. But then he spoke and I realized he was standing right in front of me, so close that I could touch him. He was so close that I could reach out and feel those pecs, those biceps. Holy hell, this guy…
“I can prove it. Please, Cassidy. Come upstairs to your attic with me and look.” He held out a hand to me. “The terrarium shattered when I changed.”
His words galvanized me into movement and successfully dashed my lust… at least for the moment. I brushed aside his hand and tore up the stairs. The door to the attic slammed into the wall when I ripped it open and raced upstairs. If her frog had escaped, Kyra would have my head. She would murder me. My niece had a rather disturbing and obsessive amount of love for that frog and she couldn’t lose him, not on my watch.
I stopped inside the door. The floor in front of my worktable was covered in glass, moss, and leaves. The remains of the terrarium lay in pieces on the table. No frog anywhere to be seen. It couldn’t be... could it?
When I heard the sound of his boots behind me, I spun around to face him. I was in full panic mode. Escaping was the last thing on my mind. Instead, I crossed the room and slapped both of my hands against his chest.
“Where the hell is the frog? What did you do with him? Tell me what you did with him!” I shouted, pounding his chest as I demanded answers. It was like punching a brick wall, a ripped brick wall. I did my best to push that thought to the back of my oversexed mind. Even in the midst of panic, that took an extraordinary amount of willpower.
“I told you, Cassidy. I am the frog. I am Finn.”
“Look, buddy. I may have issues, but I’m not completely insane. Nor am I an idiot. I know the difference between frogs and humans and you are no frog. I'm going to ask you one more time. Who are you and what have you done with my niece’s frog?” That’s when I realized something else, something he had said and that I hadn’t paid enough attention to. “Wait a minute. How the hell do you know my name?”
Avoiding the shards of glass, I moved around the table as I spoke to him. I didn't dare take my eyes off him because the fear was back. I felt marginally safer with the table between us, but not safe enough. I edged backwards until my back hit the counter behind me. Sliding my hands along the counter, I felt for my toolbox. Inside was a nice selection of tools with sharp, pointy bits. Any one of them could do serious damage to crazy hot men who thought that they were amphibians.
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He watched me move and I was sure he knew exactly what I was doing. And he wasn’t worried about it. Instead, the look on his face was a bizarre mix of amusement and desperation.
“I know your name because I’ve lived with your niece for the last year. And I’ve told you who I am, Cassidy. I’m the frog. I’m Finn,” he said. He pointed to the empty tank between us. “Look at it. The tank's destroyed, isn’t it? Just like I told you it would be.”
I ran my hand through my hair, exasperated. “And what exactly does that prove? You could have taken him out at any point while I was downstairs! You could have trashed the tank yourself.”
“Cassidy,” Finn began. He stepped towards me, but stopped when I held up a hand. I wasn’t ready to have him near me, no matter how gorgeous a nutter he was. “Why would I do that? Why would I break into your house just to abscond with a frog? What purpose would that even serve? I’m telling you the truth, I promise.”
“Bullshit. Not a damn thing you’re saying makes sense,” I paused, overwhelmed, although I couldn’t help but ask myself the same question. Why would someone break in to a stranger’s house just to steal a frog? “It’s insane. It’s impossible.” Even as I dismissed his words, I felt like a hypocrite. After all, not even two hours ago, I’d lip-locked a frog in the hope that the fairy tales were true, that the impossible could actually be possible. But that had been a moment of insanity and a single moment of weakness didn’t mean I really believed in such things.
But then it hit me. I knew what was going on. Operation Marry Cassidy had been revived. This hot mess was the latest strategic move. I was going to kill my sister. What the hell was she thinking? Or maybe it was just her idea of a joke. I had no idea. It was well established fact that Mac sucked at matchmaking, so who knew? This could be her idea of prime marriage material or a totally not funny joke. Either way, I was going to kill her.
“My sister put you up to this, didn’t she? Because it sure as hell is something she'd do. That’s what this is, isn’t it? The constant jokes about me kissing frogs. This is all a joke, right? How much did she pay you for this? I’ll give her credit for that, at least. This is some serious dedication. So, who are you supposed to be? My very own Prince Charming?”
“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”
He looked thoroughly confused at my tirade. It wasn’t hard to see that he was telling the truth, at least about this. My sister had nothing to do with it. That left only one explanation… the man was delusional.
“You need to leave,” I ordered. “Get out of my house. I don’t know who you are or what the hell is going on. And honestly? I don’t give a damn. I just want you out of my house. Now.”
“Please, Cassidy. Just listen. I can explain. I promise you that.”
“If there is one thing I have learned in my life, it’s that promises generally don’t mean shit. So, you can keep your promises. Just tell me where you put Kyra’s frog and then get out, whoever you are.”
“My name really is Finn, Finneas O’Malley. And I did not take your niece’s frog. I am your niece’s frog,” he pleaded.
“Oh, my God. Stop. Just stop. I don’t need to hear it again. I kissed a frog and it turned into you? Give me a break. That’s the stuff of fairy tales, not real life. So, give me the damn frog and get the hell out of my house.”
“I can’t do that, Cassidy, not yet. Whether you want to believe it or not, this is real. Magic is real.” He moved back and sat on the couch facing me. “Look, I get that you’re peeved. I know that this is all very hard to believe, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. You kissed a frog, a cursed frog. You kissed me.” Finn’s voice was low and his accent made me mentally drool a little before reality caught up once again.
“’Peeved’ doesn’t even begin to cover how I’m feeling. I don’t think the word for how I’m feeling right now has been invented yet.” My stomach was doing gold medal-worthy flips and my brain felt like it was about to explode. I was so out of control that my own hands were fluttering about, picking things up and setting them right back down, just to have something to do.
“I wish there was a way I could make this all easier to accept, I do. But I don’t know how to do that,” he said.
I don’t know why, but the soft understanding I heard in his voice irrationally ticked me off. I wanted answers and I wanted them to make sense. “The truth would be great,” I retorted sharply. My head was starting to hurt from the strength of the glare I was firing at him from across the table. He seemed entirely unaffected and that made me even angrier. The fact that I knew I was being irrational meant nothing.
He bowed his head down and pinched the bridge of his nose. I was giving him a headache, too, which gave me a perverse moment of pleasure. Finally, he raised his eyes to meet mine again.
“I’m telling you the truth. There is more to it, of course. But it’s a long story, and a complicated one. It’s one that started so long ago it will likely make you believe me even less than you already do.”
My response was a snort that was anything but ladylike. “I don’t think that’s possible. Whatever you have to say is probably not going to change that.”
“You say that now, but you haven’t yet heard my tale, lass.”
His Irish brogue didn’t help the tumultuous thoughts that raced through my head. I had a feeling that, despite my words, his story would change everything. The last few weeks had left me exhausted, emotionally and physically, and I felt the fight drain right out of me.
“Maybe, maybe not. But it’s going to have to wait,” I said, realizing it was long past midnight. I still hadn’t eaten, but my appetite had long since fled. “I am nowhere near ready to deal with this right now. I need some sleep first.”
His face fell in disappointment, but there was no way I was going to deal with this in my current state. I wanted nothing more than to escape to my bedroom and shut my door against the crazy. I wanted to wake up and find that this had been nothing more than some kind of bizarre, stress-induced hallucination. A girl can dream.
I got up and headed for the stairs. I only made it down four steps when I heard him cough behind me. It was the kind of cough that told me that I wasn’t going to like whatever he was about to say.
“Yes?”
He looked down at the floor before looking back up at me. “Um, I find myself in need of a place to sleep. It’s past midnight in a small town.”
I wasn’t wrong. His sleeping arrangements hadn’t occurred to me during my emotional upheaval. I looked back at him and caved. A few hours ago, I had a single house guest. A frog tucked into a moss-covered wooden house in the middle of a souped-up terrarium. Not exactly fitting accommodations for six-plus feet of muscled man. And he was right. It was late and this town only boasted a couple of tiny hotels. Neither one would have a manned desk this late at night. Well, crap. It looked like I still had a house guest, albeit a human one and I didn’t like it.
Feeling defeated, I motioned for him to follow me. I didn’t know who was crazier, him for his insane tales or me for still housing him. I stopped in front of a room across the hall from my bedroom.
“The guest room. There’s a basket on the dresser with towels and hygiene stuff in it. The bathroom is next door. I’ll see you in the morning.” I was brusque and clipped, but my brain was too fried for niceties.
“Maybe you could sing me a little song? I’ve quite enjoyed our nightly music sessions. You’re quite gifted with lyrics.”
I whirled around to face him and didn’t miss the grin he tried valiantly to hide. My face was burning with embarrassment at the laughter in his voice. Singing was not in my skill set and I was a touch sensitive about it. I displayed my middle finger before I turned my back on him and stalked across the hall into my bedroom.
As I shut my door and locked it behind me, I heard a soft “G’night, a ghrá.” I didn’t know what that meant, but his voice alone was enough to make the butterflies tap dance. I cursed each
and every one violently under my breath.
It wasn’t until I slid between the cool sheets that something important occurred to me. How the hell had he heard me singing? Maybe, somehow, his story really was true…
Morning came and went without me seeing it. Lunch came and went without me eating it. It was mid-afternoon when the smell of rich coffee finally woke me up. Checking the clock, I realized I had slept a lot longer than I ever did, but I felt rested for the first time in weeks. I should, as it was just shy of four in the afternoon.
For a moment, I luxuriated in my comfortable bed. I sniffed the air in anticipation of my first mug of the blood of life. That need was what finally motivated me to get out of bed and shower.
Just as I was about to leave my room, my cell rang. I looked down to see Mac smiling back at me. Shit. What in holy hell was I supposed to say that wouldn’t have her calling the cops on me? I steeled myself for what could be history’s most awkward conversation before swiping the call, a conversation that I was going to try my damnedest to avoid.
“Hello?”
“Hey, little sister. What’s up?”
“Um, nothing much.” Shit. Too much of a pause. I hurried to continue. “What’s going on with you?”
“You okay? You sound weird.”
Double crap. “I’m good. Just tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” Liar.
“You work too hard. You’re gonna be wrinkled before your time.”
“Thanks, sis. You’re a ray of sunshine, as usual,” I grumbled. “So, what’s up, Mac?”
“I don’t have long, but I have something interesting to tell you.” Whatever it was, it had to be good because she sounded practically giddy. Hopefully, it was enough to distract her from asking any more questions.
“Which is?”
“Barbie dumped the asshat!” Her voice was triumphant.
I was stunned into silence for a long moment. I had no idea what to say to that or even how to feel. On one hand, I felt a bit triumphant since I knew I was probably the cause of the demise of their relationship. That feeling probably didn’t say much for my character. On the other hand, I really didn’t give a rat’s ass. “Well, damn.”
