Page 12 of That Ain’t Witchcraft

“I don’t know if I’d go that far …” James trailed off mid-sentence as he realized what he was saying. Cheeks flaring red, he stepped away, moving his book behind his back. “Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“I’m sure you will,” I agreed. I knew a dismissal when I heard one. Offering a genial nod, I turned to go back the way I’d come.

“Wait!”

I stopped, looking over my shoulder. “Yes?”

“You should be careful out here. These woods aren’t necessarily safe.”

I smiled, showing him all my teeth. “No,” I said. “I guess they’re not.”

This time when I started walking, he didn’t call me back. I walked into the trees until I was what I considered a safe distance away, and when I looked back over my shoulder, I couldn’t see him at all. That was a start. Much as I wanted to be nice to the neighbors, I hadn’t been expecting to meet them in the middle of the woods.

Not that I knew where I was. Between the unfamiliarity of the trees and the time spent talking to James, I had no idea whether I was moving toward the house or whether I was just getting myself more lost.

“And me without a compass,” I muttered, turning to consider the trees. They seemed to consider me right back. “Okay, well. Won’t be the first time.”

I started walking again, following the paths shade and the local animals had cut through the underbrush, chasing the last of the tension brought on by my unexpected encounter from my shoulders. I don’t know how long I wandered, sunk into the pleasant, near-hypnotic act of walking through the woods, before I heard something rustle overhead. Whatever it was, it sounded way too big to be a raccoon or a tailypo, which didn’t leave many options. I stopped walking. I smiled.

“Took you long enough,” I said.

Sam dropped down in front of me, landing with the ease of long training. All fuūri are graceful when compared to humans. A fūri like Sam, who’s spent most of his life on the flying trapeze …

When he moves, it’s poetry. There’s no other way to describe it.

As usual, he was barefoot, letting his simian toes grip the ground for purchase. His tail curled high behind him, a visible barometer of his mood. He was relaxed, comfortable even, and why shouldn’t he be? We had the better part of a forest all to ourselves. For the first time since leaving the carnival, he didn’t need to worry about getting caught because he’d decided to let his hair down. So to speak.

“I didn’t even know you were out here until I went back to the house and Fern told me you’d gone for a walk,” he said. “Did you know Cylia was going to the store?”

“I’m hoping that’s past tense by now, since I’m going to want lunch when we get back.” I stepped forward and slung my arms around his neck, leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, and wrapped his own arms around my waist before pulling me close and kissing me much more firmly.

I’ve never been a girl who did much kissing, and I feel genuinely fortunate to have found myself a boy who didn’t have much more experience. I mean, I think we’re getting pretty good at it—neither of us has any complaints—but that, plus the thing where he’s a monkey more than half the time, has done a lot to keep me from getting self-conscious. Kissing somebody who looks like they’re about to anchor their own sci-fi movie franchise is distracting enough that we’ve been able to just get on with things, like figuring out where to put our hands.

When we finally broke apart, I was breathing fast and his cheeks were red, which made me want to start kissing him again. I tamped the impulse down as hard as I could. Fun as it would be to spend the day making out in the woods, we had things to do.

“I ran into a guy somewhere that way,” I said, waving a hand vaguely. “Human. Be careful out here.”

“I’ve been watching for humans since before you knew how to work a crossbow,” Sam said.

I lifted an eyebrow. “What kind of dismissive comment is that, exactly?”

“The kind that realized halfway through that it didn’t know where it was going,” he said, smiling lopsidedly. “So, yeah. Thanks for the warning.”

“No problem,” I said. “He seemed nice. Apparently, we’re renting from his cousin. If something breaks, he’s probably who we’ll call.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Only if you think my taste runs toward tall, dark-haired assholes.”

Sam blinked. “Uh, that is exactly what I think your taste runs toward. I now present exhibit A, myself.” He waved a hand, indicating the entire length of his body. “But since I also know there’s something I can do that some random human in the woods can’t, I’m going to skip jealous in favor of smugness.”

“Oh?” I asked. “What’s that?”

Sam grinned before grabbing me by the waist and leaping into the air, landing on a branch easily fifteen feet above the ground. I squeaked at the impact. His grin got wider and yes, there was more than a small element of smugness in his expression.

“See?” he said. “I’m way more fun than some random asshole. I’m your favorite asshole.” He kissed me quick and leaped off the branch, carrying me along with him as he began making his way through the forest.