Page 24 of Frog

“You would,” I assured him. “And I won’t take that chance.”

“Why?”

I leveled my gaze at him. “I just won’t.”

He sighed heavily. “Well, I want you at that party with me, you stubborn piece of crap, so I’ll get the shoes, you wear them, and I’ll keep them. How’s that?”

“So they’d be yours.”

“Yes.”

I smiled at him. “Agreed.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed.

“Let’s go already. The kids are restless.”

“Fine,” he groused at me.

In the car after lunch, on the road toward Half Moon Bay, Tristan was asking Cy about leprosy for some reason, Pip and his mother were playing I Spy, and I was watching Micah draw me in his sketch pad.

“I like that rhinoceros,” I told him. “I’ve never ridden one of them before. Probably like bull riding, ya reckon?”

Micah nodded.

“Yeah.” I yawned, leaning closer to him.

He reached up and, not turning from looking at his page, put his left hand around the side of my face and smoothed his fingers over my cheek. I let my head clunk gently against the top of his and heard him sigh before I closed my eyes. I had no idea how tired I really was.

I felt a hand on my right knee, shaking gently, and when I opened my eyes, Cy was there, looking down at my face.

“We here?” I asked, sitting up and stretching.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding miserable.

I caught hold of his arm and pulled him close, our faces just inches apart. “I don’t want us to fight no more. Let’s stop fussin’ at each other and kiss and make up.”

His smile was sweet and sad and happy all at the same time. “I would love that.”

I puckered up, and he started laughing. “So not hot.”

“No?”

He lost it, and I grabbed him and pulled him into my arms and kissed him until it wasn’t funny anymore. I made sure when he got out of the SUV he was uncomfortable and squirming and cursing my name and promising retribution.

“Oh yeah?” I teased him.

“Oh, cowboy, you’re going to be so sorry we’re not alone,” he threatened me, eyes still cloudy with passion, his lips swollen and dark and bruised. He looked like I’d mauled him.

“Why’s that?” I asked, following him up the cobblestone path to the front door.

He grunted. “Because you are so going to want my ass, and I’ll be damned if you’ll get it.”

“Maybe it’s about time you had mine,” I said softly.

He froze.

I was proud of myself for not laughing, and when he turned to face me, mouth open, his eyes round in shock, I casually asked him what was wrong.