Page 4 of Leaping Into Love

“Near enough,” Henry says, looking skyward at a large black bird that appears to be circling the area.

“That’s a lot bigger than the crows I’m used to.”

“He’s a raven, not a crow.”

I shade the afternoon sunlight from my eyes with my hand so I can get a better look. “How can you tell it’s a male?” Even though I said I’d like to start my training tomorrow, I can never resist learning new things about nature.

Another throat clearing that doesn’t totally conceal a croak-like noise that draws my attention back to Henry.

“Purely by recognition of that bird specifically. I’ve lived on this property a long time and grown familiar with many of its inhabitants.”

Sounds like he’s an outdoorsy type. My type, if I had a type. I’ve never met someone I wanted to spend more than twenty horizontal minutes with, and that doesn’t require a type, just a talented tongue or a big cock, preferably both.

“I look forward to getting to know all the inhabitants,” I say, smiling when Henry returns his gaze to my face. “But if I’m ever making myself too comfortable here or I’m in your way⁠—”

“That will never be the case. My home is your home, Tiana. Genuinely.”

I’ve met a lot of phony people, and I’ve developed a pretty good radar for lies, gossip, deception…all the usual human crap. That radar is completely silent now. Either Henry sincerely means what he says, or there’s some kind of magical dampening field messing with my intuition. Since there’s no such thing as magic outside of the kind nature makes, I think it’s safe to take Henry at his word.

“Let me show you to your cottage, then I’ll bring your boxes around to your porch while you’re freshening up, chowing down, and unwinding.” He slow-blinks his big eyes at me, and I get the feeling it’s his version of winking. It’s cute, as was his copying my words.

“Do I really have a porch?” I ask as I walk beside him across the grass toward the rear of his huge house. “The closest thing I’ve ever had is a Juliet balcony overlooking a parking lot and the garbage dumpster.”

His lips curl in obvious disgust. He’s not wrong; the place stank. Literally. “You have two porches, in fact. East-facing at your front door. It’s small, but has enough space to sit and enjoy the sunrise. The porch on the back side is larger and has a view of the swamp.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I think so, but you may find it too buggy out there.”

“Bugs don’t bug me.” My intentionally silly comment hits the mark, and he gives me a wide smile, the sight of it making it feel as if someone reached inside me and turned up the dial for that tingling sensation.

New job, new home, and a crush on my new boss. But no regrets. Not a single one.

chapter three

henry

Nightfall wraps its dark arms around the dips and curves of the abundant greenery as the sun’s glow retreats below the horizon.

A light comes on in Tiana’s cottage, casting a muted band of soft yellow outward through the screened French doors. There are curtains she could close but hasn’t, likely because this side of the cottage faces the marsh. She wouldn’t expect anything out here to be intruding on her privacy.

She believes me to be human, like her. She hasn’t an inkling of the truth, that the man she met earlier was a glamoured facade. That I’m a frog man. A monster who could be tucked out of sight amongst the bulrushes of the pond.

I could tell myself this isn’t spying, that I’m only out here for my daily dip, but it wouldn’t be the truth. There are many areas on the property where I could swim that wouldn’t give me a frog’s-eye view of Tiana’s cottage. Of Tiana herself when she comes to stand at the door wearing only a tiny top and skimpy shorts.

It’s that view that triggers my instinctive need to call. My music rises, joining the already present chorus created by less-evolved amphibians and other creatures who’ve made homes here. With each call, my song grows louder, becoming the dominant note.

She is fully human, without a trace of amphibian in her. If she had any monster DNA, even unbeknownst to her, she would’ve sensed the glamour.

So I don’t expect her to take note of my song, and certainly not to respond. But when she opens the French doors and steps out onto the porch, tilting her head this way and that, as if trying to pinpoint a sound, I sing louder. My vocal sac expands farther than it ever has, amplifying my call to a new maximum.

A smile spreads across her lovely sun-kissed face, and she moves to the railing. Elbows planted on the carefully sanded wood, her golden hair moving gently in the light breeze, she rests her chin in her hands and sighs. “Your music is beautiful.”

I’m not foolish enough to think she’s talking about my music, or that she has the faintest inkling of who is making the loudest song. Even so, my heart swells nearly as much as my vocal sac at the knowledge that she enjoys the mating call I’m sending out just for her. Eyes locked on her beautiful face and form, I continue singing for her, even when she turns away from the railing.

Rather than go inside the cottage as I expect, she settles on the canvas lounger I put on the cottage’s back porch before she arrived. The chair is off to one side of the French doors, but enough light spills out from the living room to make her visible through the balusters. Putting one arm behind her head causes the tiny tank top to rise, exposing a band of skin along her waistline. Eyes closed and smiling, she sighs while trailing her fingertips back and forth along that tantalizing strip.

Memories of her hand against mine sends a wave of warmth through me, raising my body temperature despite three-quarters of it being immersed in the cool water of the pond.