“Beside me, Philippe and Meg hold hands. He murmurs something that sounds like, "my dear leetle mongoose." I wish he'd turn back into a frog and hop away.”

“He hesitated, but then stepped beneath the tree and knelt, depositing me gently on the ground between two giant roots. And he stayed there, kneeling beside me, holding my hand in his. Something splashed the back of my hand, cold as spring water, crystalling to my skin. A faery's tears.”

“He left slowly, as if he had to pry himself away before he something improper. A growing part of me wished he'd stayed.”

“don’t make me walk back without being beside you, holding your hand.” He lowered one arm from my waist to draw my hand to his lips. “I’ve lived for two hundred years with only the imagination of what it would be like to touch this,”—he moved my hand over his mouth, kissing each knuckle—“to hold this . . .” When my breath became weak, he lowered it from his lips, but kept it firmly in his hand. “Please allow me to escort you back to the house?”

“This was something you had to work through on you own," Jason said. "Besides, I knew you'd do the right thing.""Oh, right," I said. I wanted to throw something at him. I really did. "And if I hadn't?"Now Jason brandished something he'd been holding behind his back. It was a golf club."I figured Big Bertha here would drive them away," he said.”

“You see somethin' ya want, baby?""Maybe. I'm checking things out. Seeing if I'm interested," I shot back with my own evil grin."I see something I want," he drawled as he came toward me."You do?""Hell yeah, I do," he murmured. "I love chocolate." What? My excitement turned to confusion. His arm reached out beside me and took the piece of chocolate cake I'd brought him.”