“Jan hid one in my football kit when I was thirteen. And I didn’t find it until I got dressed.” My skin crawls at the memory of that clammy frog wriggling over my torso in a desperate bid for freedom. “I don’t know who was more upset, me or the frog. But the fear remains.”
She makes a sound of sympathy. “I’d be scarred for life too. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
Stuffing my hands in my jeans pockets, I lean against the counter. “Why did Sarah say ‘another comedian’? Have other guys said the same?”
I’d like to think I’m subtle here, but I doubt it. Then again, Pen simply shakes her head, clearly not getting my query into the topic of any guys she may or may not have dated.
“No. She meant me.” Her eyes light up again with humor. “When I met Edward, I asked if it was magic that made his hat stay on.”
This pleases me more than it probably should. “It’s a perfectly logical conclusion. Anyone who can get a frog to dress in hats and stay put has to be practicing some sort of magic.”
“Exactly!”
We share a grin but then I shoot a wary glance toward the way Sarah exited. “He stays put, right?”
Pen pats my arm kindly. “Don’t worry, Pickle. If he hops out here to have a word, I’ll protect you.”
“Ah, Sweets, I knew I could count on you to save me.”
I thought it would make her smile some more, but her happy expression dims.
“Speaking of that,” she begins in a tone that sets off alarm bells in my head.
She’s going to turn me down. I know it. Before she can get another word out, I take her hand. “Let’s go for a walk and talk.”
When her brows draw together, I give her hand a gentle tug. “Come on. I need to be far away from Frogville. And I’m in the mood for a hike.”
“Huh.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing, really. I was planning to go on a hike today, is all.”
“Perfect. Let’s go.” I take her hand again. My fingers curl over hers and something deep inside of me seems to click into place. And for one thick moment, I just want to stay right here and hold on. The feel of her hand in mine centers me. I like it. A lot.
Oblivious to my turmoil, Pen makes a sound of amused exasperation. “Wait, wait. I’ve got to change first.”
For the first time since I got here, I notice her clothes. She’s wearing an oversize ivory T-shirt withMurder, She Wroteprinted in gold across her chest and tiny frayed jean shorts. I swallow hard. Pen’s legs are slim and pale with ankles so delicately thin, I could easily wrap my thumb and forefinger around them. Lust tightens my core with unexpected speed and strength. It’s far too easy to imagine sliding my hands up those smooth legs and wrapping them around my waist.
My breath punches out in a gust. “You look perfect.”
It’s clear she doesn’t believe me. But I don’t give her too much time to think about it. Instead, I hustle her out of the kitchen and ask where her shoes are. Trained or not, there’s a Mad Hatter frog on the loose in this place and we need to get out of it as soon as humanly possible.
“Stop rushing me,” she grouches. “I know you’re doing it so I won’t argue with you on my choice of attire.”
Choice of attire. She’s too adorable for words.
“You caught me. Now my dastardly plan is foiled.” I glance around. “You got a purse or something?”
“I have a bag, which I’m going to get ready,” she corrects, one delicate eyebrow raised in affront. “And you can hold your horses.”
“I love it when you talk grandma to me.”
“Being cute won’t help your case either.”
“But you love it when I’m cute.”
God, I hope she does; I need all the help I can get.
