One Night Only (Season 1: Deni's Story)

Chapter Eighteen

If anyone had told me a month ago that the first highlight of my summer would involve kneeling in ankle-deep lake water, trying to catch a tadpole between my cupped hands, I would have laughed and asked what alternate world this event belonged to. I wouldn't describe myself as the outdoorsy type, or at least I wouldn't have before today.

Okay. I'm still not outdoorsy, but I'm also not having a bad time, even though I'm not sure I actually want to know what a tadpole feels like should one find its way into my hands. But catching one seems unlikely at this point, so I probably don't need to be concerned. They've all been swimming to just outside of my reach and then darting away.

"Steady," Hunter murmurs from beside me. He places his hand on my shoulder, his touch light. "They'll come to you. You just have to stay still."

"Easy for you to say." My words come out as a good-natured grumble. I try to keep my eyes on the water, but Hunter's whole hand-on-my-shoulder thing has me fighting against myself to keep from looking at him.

His body shakes with stifled laughter, which heightens my awareness of him. Hunter is close enough for me to feel his slightest movements and the warmth radiating from his skin. He probably thinks I mean it's easy for him to say because he has years of practice with all of this outdoor wilderness stuff and I don't. It's part of it, but not all of it. Him being in my personal space has me flustered, making it all the more difficult to remain steady or still, and his hand on my shoulder causes the sensation of electrical sparks to go dancing across my skin.

It's a little ridiculous, to be honest. I don't know what my deal is today, or what has me so hyper aware and keyed up. If there's a silver lining, it's that Hunter is distracting me from the thoughts I've been wrestling with since I heard the entertainment news teaser on the radio.

"I think I repel them." I scrunch up my face and watch as yet another tadpole swims to a spot just outside of my reach, then turns away and wriggles in another direction.

It's time to call this a lost cause. I take my hands out of the water and straighten to a stand.

Hunter glances up at me. "You don't repel them. Can I see your hands?" A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he also stands.

"My hands?" I hold them out to him, not certain why I'm doing it.

"Palms up," he requests.

I do as he asks. He slides his hands under mine, his palms also facing up. If the sensation when his hand was on my shoulder was sparks, this is something more like firecrackers. It's a lucky thing I have practice keeping my composure in front of audiences no matter what's happening, because good grief.

"We'll catch one together," Hunter explains. "I have a theory about what's going on."

I make the mistake of locking eyes with him then. We're both still, our hands together, and an odd, intense feeling comes over me. I have to be the only one experiencing it, and so I fumble for something to say that will break this one-sided spell.

"Or you're just trying to hold my hand." There. That sounds like the sassy, breezy person I would much rather be.

But wait. What if he is?

"I could never be that smooth," he assures me, guiding our hands back to the water. This time it takes all of about thirty seconds before a tadpole is in my hands.

"You're some sort of magnet for them," I declare. "It defies explanation."

It was a compliment, but he looks horrified by this. "A tadpole magnet. That's not a title I think I want."

We release the tadpole back into the lake. Our hands move apart, and as they do, I regain the ability to form coherent thoughts.

"Amphibian whisperer, then?" I suggest. He winces at this one.