Page 25 of The Rusalka and Mr. Right

“I know.”

“Then—”

“You make me reckless, and I like it.”

WE HOLD HANDS AS WElazily stroll back towards the sounds of the picnic. At the last moment, I swerve, leading him off the path. Humans shouldn’t venture into the uncharted woods alone, but I’ll keep him safe—and he still hasn’t seen Pine Ridge for what it is.

Hasn’t seen me for whatIam. When he does...

Well, it’ll be nice as long as it lasts.

“Girl, you’re insatiable,” Kev snickers and kisses the back of my neck. “Warning. I’m not your rustic woodsy type. Opening the car windows instead of using the AC is my limit on roughing it.”

“I’m not leading you into the woods for more hanky-panky,” I chuckle and pause, letting him hold me in his arms, letting my back sink into his solid chest. I’m full. Happy.

I should be afraid, I know it, but I can’t find the fear right now.

“Then why are we going into the woods? If you wanna play Little Red Riding Hood and Big Bad Wolf, I’m willing to try.” Another kiss, this one with a nip, and strong, dark hands slide tenderly across my middle, massaging me as we slowly start to move again.

“I want to avoid Todd and his friends. In a few weeks, they’ll forget all about it.” I hope. They might be my meal ticket this year, once Kev finds out the truth.

“Not to sound like a jealous prick, but why hang out with them?”

I turn and lead Kev toward the river, sure that I know my way back to White Pines through this circuitous route. “I... I’m single. Ready to mingle.” I use pat phrases that don’t explain my need for their energy, for their sexual release.

Kevin is silent for a while, holding my hand now, letting me lead him through deepening shadows and under low pine boughs. “Always got that itch? Like the attention? I’ve met women like that before.”

He doesn’t sound happy about it. I shrug. “It is lonely without... without a family. Without Gregor. Someone to love.”

Damn it.I bite down on my lip hard, face turned so he can’t see the angry anguish that spreads across my face. I keep revealing little bits that should stay hidden. I don’t mind if men see my body, but my thoughts are private.

“I get it.”

Silence. Shadows. His hand is warm in mine, firm and possessive as he wraps his fingers around my palm.

“What do you want in someone? Long-term?”

“I don’t want long-term. I mean, I do, but I can’t. It could be risky for you—for the person.”

“Okay, well, I’m not asking about reality. Just hypotheticals. Want me to go first?”

“Yes!” I seize on the idea eagerly, but I’m also really curious, even though I have no right to be.

“Well...Four days ago, I would have said I wanted someone sweet, smart, and sane. Sexy, funny, and just a little bit boring.”

I try not to wince too noticeably. I am...none of those things. Not even smart—not around him.

“Oh. Well. I guess—”

“And then I met you, and I think... Yeah, I think the plan changed a little bit. I want someone who’s sweet and the right kind of crazy. The kind of crazy that takes me into the woods in the middle of the afternoon and doesn’t take me back out until the moon is rising.”

He’s a poet, in a simple way.

The way Gregor could describe the sun on the water or the way the whale songs told stories...

Simple men are some of my favorite poets.

My heart, so carefully caged, finds skeletons of dreams and starts to fashion the bones to pick the locks.

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