Kissing Frogs

by Kim Deister

  Mac seemed to think my answer was underwhelming and I heard the disappointment in her voice. “I thought you’d be more excited by it.”

  “I’m sorry. Part of me is thrilled that he gets a taste of what it’s like. But seeing him the other day sort of sealed the deal on apathy. I just don’t give a crap anymore, one way or another.”

  We chatted for a few more minutes before she had to go. I hung up and wandered downstairs. Chatting with my sister distracted me and, for a few minutes, I managed to forget everything that had happened the night before. But then it all came rushing back when I turned into my kitchen. There was Finn, standing in the middle of my kitchen with a pink, owl-covered apron wrapped around him.

  He held a frying pan in one hand and tongs in the other as he heaped piles of bacon on two plates next to fluffy mounds of scrambled eggs. I wasn’t used to anyone being in my kitchen, much less a man. I wasn't at all sure how I felt about it. I had gotten used to being alone.

  He still hadn’t noticed me so I paused in the doorway and watched him bustle around my kitchen like he belonged in it. Another pan came off the stove, filled with the most delicious-smelling corned beef hash. He might be crazy, but he could cook and that wasn’t a bad thing.

  “What’s all this?” My voice startled him and he jumped a mile, almost dropping the hot pan. He raised his head and the lopsided grin on his face melted my insides in a single second. I’m in trouble.

  “I believe you would call it ‘breakfast,’ lass. It commonly serves as the first meal of the day, although I have discovered that many people eat it mid-morning and call it 'brunch,.' And true rebels eat it for dinner. But despite the fact that it is now almost five, I think it is safe for you to call it ‘breakfast’ in the more traditional sense of the word. After all, it will be your first meal of the day. For me, however, it is dinner.”

  My insides solidified a little bit and I may or may not have grumbled something about smart asses. But it was hard to mean it with conviction as I gazed at him. He looked good in my apron and he looked good in my kitchen.

  “Have a seat, lass,” he said, jerking a thumb towards the back door over his shoulder.

  I didn’t even hesitate before following instructions. Crazy or not, if he wanted to make me breakfast, lunch, or dinner and serve it to me, far be it from me to argue about it. My standards were low and food made up for a lot of crazy. Wandering out to the deck, I discovered that he’d been busy while I’d been sleeping the day away.

  A storm passed through late yesterday afternoon and wreaked havoc in my backyard. I had planned to take care of it today, but Finn beat me to it. The plants were securely in their pots again and the dirt was long gone. The winds had tugged down some of the fairy lights that were woven through the pergola at the other end of the deck and those were all back in place, too. I wasn’t used to having a house boy and I could get used to it. Especially one as mouth-watering as Finn. He might perhaps be a bit touched in the head, but no one was perfect.

  A bark from the yard below distracted me and I looked down to see Luna. She raced around in the freshly cut grass chasing dust motes and butterflies. Mowing had also been on my agenda for today, but Finn took it upon himself to do that, too. A man who does something without nagging? Before that thought had time to take root in my overburdened mind, Luna finally spotted me. Her body was a squirming frenzy when she raced across the yard and leapt into my arms.

  I cuddled the dog as I wondered how early the man had gotten up to do all of this. It hadn’t stopped with taking care of my deck and my yard, either. He had gone all out setting the table, too. It rivaled my mad hostess skills from Kyra's party, looking like it had been styled for one of those glossy home magazines. A big Mason jar filled with sprigs of lavender and wildflowers sat in the middle of the table, my favorite dusky lavender woven mats that Taylor gave me for my last birthday on either side of it. Even the deep teal napkins were folded to hold our silverware. It would have made Martha Stewart proud.

  Luna’s love for me was short-lived, ending the moment the back door opened. As soon as Finn walked outside with our plates on a tray, she deserted me to dance around his ankles. She seemed to be making a habit of ditching me for a nice set of abs lately. The conversations I needed to have with her were stacking up. But I had to hand it to Finn. Despite the lady dog acting the fool around his feet, he got the tray to the table without a single spill. His fancy footwork was impressive.

  He set my plate in front of me, heaped with more food than I could possibly eat. It smelled so good that I was suddenly ravenous. I had never been so hungry and it tasted just as good as it looked.

  “This is amazing,” I mumbled around a mouthful of food.

  He laughed as he nodded his head in acknowledgment. The dimples almost undid me. And the laugh. It was rich and deep and totally infectious. This man had “DANGER” written all over him. “It does look like you are enjoying it, lass. You seem to be trying to imitate a chipmunk.”

  He really was a smart ass. However, there was no disputing this comment as my mouth was so full that I literally could not argue, even if I’d wanted to. Chipmunk cheeks were cute on a kid, but it wasn’t a look I usually sought. I settled for a glare as I chewed.

  “So, how is your sister? I got bits and pieces of all that, but my frog memory tends to get a little muddled once I’m human again.”

  Frog memory. Right. I had no idea how to respond to that, so I didn’t. “My sister is fine. No cancer. Just some fibrous tissue.”

  “That’s great! I’m happy for you both. I do remember how scared you were about it. And I know how hard it would have been on Kyra. She’s an amazing little girl, your niece.”

  “She is, isn’t she? Of course, I might be a bit biased, but I think she’s perfect. But Mac, yeah, I was scared. The whole thing was a total eye-opener, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Because it made me think about some stuff. That kind of thing forces you to remember that life can be short. You can’t waste whatever time you have. I guess it made me realize that maybe it’s time to make some changes.”

  “What kind of changes?”

  Like I wanted to discuss my love life with him. “Just… things.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and gave me a grin. “Are those ‘things’ why you kissed me?”

  I didn’t bother to answer. Instead, I took a long sip of coffee while leveling my most intimidating glare, which had no effect whatsoever. A change of subject was necessary.

  “I’m not used to all this,” I admitted, gesturing around me. “I’m not used to having someone take it upon themselves to do stuff for me. I’m sure as hell not used to having a guy in my kitchen, either. So, uh, thanks for that.”

  “Don’t you have an ex? Didn’t he do those things for you? Or am I remembering it wrong?”

  “No. I have an ex. But let’s just say that helping me wasn’t really on his list of priorities. If it didn’t serve him in some way, it didn’t occur to him.”

  “Sounds like a bloody arse,” he said with fervor.

  I don’t know why, but his comment struck me as hilarious. I dissolved into laughter. It only got worse when I caught the look on Finn’s face, something between amusement and confusion.

  “You would be correct, although it sounds much nicer in your brogue. The man was a douche of the highest order.”

  His brows drew together as he pondered my statement. “A douche?”

  How did one go about explaining a feminine hygiene product and how that applied to one’s personality? Especially to someone that professed to be a formerly cursed frog. In a flash of brilliance, I pulled out my phone and found the entry on “douche bag” in the Urban Dictionary. Their definition was more than sufficient to explain a weird American colloquialism.

  The look on his face as he read the screen was hilarious. He had a pinched look on his face when he handed it back to me. “I almost wish I hadn’t asked.”

  After that, conversation flo
wed a little bit easier. The truth was, despite the weirdness of the situation, the man was likable. He was smart and he was funny, not to mention easy on the eyes. Conversation came easy when I could forget the whole frog thing. This was a guy I could actually see myself with, if not for the small issue of his possible species identity crisis.

  Finn finished before me and sat back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. He watched me as I tore through the rest my food with a look of amusement on his face that I tried very hard to ignore. But, eventually, unless I wanted to pick up my plate and lick it clean, there was nothing left to eat. When I finally set down my fork, he moved with almost supernatural speed to clear the table and take it all into the kitchen. By the time I managed to untangle my legs, he was already three-quarters of the way done filling the dishwasher. I helped him finish and, all too soon, we were done.

  There was no more escaping. I poured myself another bracing cup of coffee. I wondered if it was too early in the evening to spice it up with a shot or two of vodka. Even if it was, this was going to be a conversation where vodka would only help. If I was drunk, maybe it would make it easier to accept whatever he had to say. I had only been awake for an hour or so and it seemed a bit too soon to start boozing, but these were extreme circumstances. So, I grabbed the bottle of vodka out of the freezer and took it outside with me. Just in case I needed it for medicinal purposes.

  The sun had set while we were inside and dusk was chilly. I grabbed a throw off the back of one of the chairs before making myself comfortable on one end of the built-in couches nestled under the pergola. I watched the last light of the sun sank below the trees.

  Finn followed me outside a couple of minutes later, flipping on the newly replaced fairy lights. He took a seat on the other couch, facing me as I leaned against the wall of the house behind me. I clutched my coffee in both hands and I finally spoke.

  “So, tell me your story.”

  Finn didn’t say anything for a long time. Now that it was time to talk about it, he didn’t seem to know what to say. My feet were on the cushion between us and he stared somewhere in the general direction of my toes. Unwelcome thoughts of Melvin ran through my head, and maybe it was superficial, but somehow Finn staring at my toes wasn’t nearly so creepy.

  The silence stretched on until I was about to reach out a foot and poke him in the chest. Before I did more than think about it, he snapped out of it. He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. The muscles in his arms flexed as he cracked the knuckles of first one hand and then the other. I leaned toward him before I realized what I was doing and caught myself just in time. I was hopeless.

  “I was born on the twenty-third of April in sixteen eighty-six,” Finn said softly, a look of worry on his face.

  That took me out of my lust reverie. My brain froze for what could have been just a moment, but felt like decades. I stared at him, trying and yet failing to accept his words. The first coherent thought I had was that he looked damn good for a man who should have been dust in the wind by now.

  “Sixteen eighty-six. That is what you said, isn’t it? But that would make you...” I paused, trying to do the math in my head, not exactly my greatest skill. “Roughly three-hundred and thirty years old.”

  “Technically, I suppose,” he agreed with a careless shrug. His voice was so matter-of-fact, as if nothing he said was unusual. “But I stopped aging after I was cursed.”

  Of course. How stupid of me not to realize that. “And that was…?”

  “In seventeen fifteen, not long after my twenty-ninth birthday.”

  Three-hundred and thirty years old. Twenty-nine years old. It didn’t matter. This was crazy. He was crazy.

  “You were right. I don’t believe you. It’s not possible.” I didn’t try to hide my annoyance. This was all starting to sound like a really creative line. Nuttier than most, but still a line.

  He sighed yet again and the frustration I heard in it almost sent me over the edge of good manners and civility. He was frustrated? I was a sucker for inked bad boys, but this was pushing it, even for me.

  “It is possible and I am more than happy to tell you the whole sordid tale if you’d like. But the part that matters right now is that your kiss broke the curse. And that is why I’m sitting here in front of you right now with two legs instead of four.”

  It wasn’t often that I was rendered speechless, but I was well on my way there. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to yell at him or comfort him in his time of obvious mental need. I did neither. Instead, I sat there and stared at him, even though I was sure I looked like an addled idiot. But that was precisely how I felt. My mind was a blank. I had no idea what to think, much less what to say. Everything that came out of his gorgeous face said that he was moments away from a total mental break. So, why am I even still listening to this?

  From the time we were wee babes, Grandma Fiona told us stories of magic and myth from the rolling hills of her native Ireland. When we got older and started to brush aside her stories, she lectured us. To turn our backs on the stories was to turn our backs on our heritage. Stories of the sidhe, of selkies, and of the phooka. Tales of witches and magic and terrible curses that were cast on mortals who wronged them. There were stories of ships lost at sea, tales of those lured into the fairy realm. I listened to her stories, even loved them, but I never really believed them as anything more than just stories, legends from another world and another time.

  Now Finn sat in front of me, telling me a story that could have been any one of her tales. And there was something about the way he spoke that hinted at a time long past, even as he sat across from me covered in ink and steel. I made the mistake of meeting his eyes and the pleading I saw in them was unmistakable. Crazy or not, he believed what he was trying to sell and I realized something that shocked me to the core... I wanted to believe him.

  Almost before I knew what was happening, he moved to sit right in front of me. He was so close that I could feel the heat of his skin. I realized that I had moved, too, on my knees, leaning toward him. My body knew something my brain didn’t and the need to be nearer to him coursed through my veins. The way he affected me… it scared me, unnerved me. But I didn’t move, couldn’t move. His icy blue eyes held me enthralled. As I stared, he reached out and ran his fingers along my cheek. He stared back at me for a long time, holding my face in his hand.

  He closed the distance between us and brushed his lips across mine. That was enough to shock me to my senses. I didn't care how tantalizing this guy was. I wasn’t ready for lip-lock, especially since I hadn’t yet determined his level of sanity. The last thing I needed was another sketchy guy in my life.

  I reared back and smashed my head hard into the wall of the house. Blinding pain shot through me, but I barely felt it in my panic. I jumped up and stalked across the deck, needing to put some distance between us. Leaning against the rail, I could still feel the heat of his fingers on my face, the coolness of the silver rings he wore. I could still feel the tingles of electricity that shot through me when his skin touched mine. My lips still felt his, even though they had barely touched mine. The whole situation overwhelmed me, but I couldn't escape one thing. I wanted him to touch me again. Never had a guy affected me like this, not even Luke. I dropped into one of the chairs and rested my elbows on the table in front of me.

  “I’m sorry, Cassidy. I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he said, easing himself into the chair opposite me. “But I just couldn’t help myself.” I didn’t have an answer and he didn’t seem to expect one. “There’s something else you should know.”

  I wasn’t sure how much more I could handle and I hadn’t even heard his whole story yet. “And that is?”

  He took a deep breath and stared out into the yard. When he spoke, his words were soft. “That you aren’t the first woman to kiss me as a frog over the years. But you are the only one who actually turned me human with a kiss. That’s not how the curse has worked for me. And that means something. I’m sure of it.”
He turned his head to look at me as he said the last words.

  We looked at each other for a long time without saying anything. Worry was etched into his face and I didn’t know what he saw in mine. Confusion, definitely. But what else? Fear? Anger? Frustration? I didn’t even know what to think about what he was telling me. Everything in me screamed, telling me to run for the hills. But I didn’t know how much of that was instinct or just my ingrained habit of avoiding entanglements at any cost.

  It took me a few minutes to calm down, but when I did, I considered his words. He obviously thought it was important, that I was the only one to set him free. But what did it mean? “Why me?” In my head, I meant the words as a lamentation, but that wasn’t how they came out. They came out as a plaintive plea for answers. For reasons I couldn’t explain even to myself, I needed to hear those answers.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure. I’ve spent centuries trying to break this damned curse. I can assure you that this particular scenario is not one I’ve ever considered, which is why I think it’s different this time, that this time I really am free.”

  Centuries… That hit home. “That’s not helpful,” I snapped.

  “I know and I’m sorry,” he said with such sincerity that I felt instantly guilty for the sharpness of my voice. “The truth is, even after all these years, I don’t have all the answers or maybe even any answers. I knew the lore, but I never believed it until it happened to me. So, my knowledge is lacking and most of my answers can only be guesses.”

  I heard the frustration of his voice and it took me by surprise. If he was for real, I could understand feeling frustrated. Centuries spent living trapped inside a frog would be beyond anything I could imagine. And there was no question he believed what he was saying. But how could it possibly be true?

  “At this point, an educated guess would be better nothing. So, lay it on me.”