Page 3 of Frog

“Yes, it’s over; it’s been over for the last six months.”

“’Cause I don’t wanna mess nothin’ up for ya. I reckon I put you through enough.”

“There’s nothing to mess up, I assure you. I’m so sorry for how we…. Baby, I’m so sorry for what I said.”

I realized between his tone and how shaky his breathing was that maybe I made a mistake. “You know, I’m kinda tore up. Maybe this wasn’t such a good—”

“It was,” he snapped at me. “It was a great idea. Really nice of you to not let me feel like an asshole for the rest of my life.”

I took a deep breath. “You’re not an asshole.”

“But how I pressured you, the things I said…. I went after you, but you were already gone.”

“You did?” I brightened because that was nice to hear.

“Yes. God, Weber, I really am so sorry.”

“Forget it. I’ll see you.”

“When?”

He knew me well for someone who had seen me maybe fifteen times in a three-year period—he knew to ask for a definitive timeline. Because when I said I would see him, it could mean either today, tomorrow, or before I died.

“Weber?”

I took a breath. “Well, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I reckon you could come fetch me from the station here.”

Deep exhale from him. “Okay. I’ll be right there. Don’t leave. Please.”

“It ain’t like you to worry.”

“No, I know, I just… I missed you, and I never have any way to reach…. I’m just so glad you called. You have no idea.”

And because I knew him, I knew he really was.

WEMETin Texas when I was breaking horses on a ranch between rodeos. He and some friends had come to hunt quail, and the guide was held up with another party, so my boss at the time asked me to run into town and pick the men up and drive them out to the ranch. I never thought the brown-eyed, chestnut-haired, golden-skinned man would take a second look at me. Even under the merciless Texas sun, he’d looked like a million bucks. Crisp, polished, pressed, the tailored dress suit and shirt that cost more than all my earthly possessions put together clung to the long lines of him and accentuated the muscles underneath. I could barely breathe.

In the SUV, I stared at the road, kept quiet, and concentrated on not fidgeting. When they all piled out of the car after I rolled up to the huge ranch house, I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. And then almost came out of my skin moments later when there was a hard tap on the glass. I rolled down the window, swallowing hard, my mouth bone dry.

“What was your name?” the god asked me as I tried for the life of me to remember.

I coughed. “Web. Weber Yates,” I managed to answer. “What’s yours?”

“Cyrus. Cyrus Benning.”

I smiled at him, taking in the swirl of gold in the milk chocolate eyes that you only noticed up close. He had long, dark, feathery lashes; chiseled features; and broad shoulders. The man was just mouthwatering and by far the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

He nodded, and I watched his eyes narrow as he wet his lips. “I don’t normally—” He cleared his throat. “—and you’re probably not… but do you think you might want to have dinner with me?”

I would not make it through dinner. “Or we could just find a motel and fuck,” I said before my brain kicked in. The man’s mouth, his full, sculpted lips, had made me want things I shouldn’t have. Looking at him, I got brave.

He nodded, his smile wicked and wide. “We could do that, but I would also love to feed you if you let me.”

“That’s not real safe in this town.”

He nodded again as he leaned against the door and reached toward me, sliding the back of his fingers up my throat. “Okay then, room service and sex it is. When?”

“I get off work at six.”