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And then a scream that had me up and off the chair, racing for the door. Jeremiah burst out of the bathroom stall, grappling with a towel barely wrapped around his waist. He was pale and panting, now standing beside the bed, as far as he could get from the bathroom.
“What is it?” I asked, reaching for the broom.
He shook his head.
I poked my head in, gingerly peeking into the shower cubicle, expecting to see a snake... only to find a rather large green tree frog up near the water tank.
I went back out. Jeremiah had fixed the towel around his waist, which was disappointing, to say the least. He was still pale, his eyes wide. “The frog?”
His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched. “They have. Suction cups. For feet!”
I would have laughed if he didn’t look like he was about to puke.
“Please get rid of it,” he said quickly. “I don’t care how or what you do with it. Just please get rid of it.”
“Okay,” I said, leaning the broom against the wall. I picked up the frog, and walking out into the clearing, I let him go. “Go find somewhere else to call home, little buddy.”
When I went back into the shed, Jeremiah hadn’t moved. He shuffled from one foot to the other. “Can you please check the shower? Actually, you know what? Never mind. I’ll wait until tomorrow. In the daylight. Or maybe I just won’t shower at all for the entire duration of our stay. I can stand in the rain tomorrow. It’s fine.”
I had to chew on my bottom lip to stop from smiling. “I checked the water tank earlier,” I said. “There were no frogs in it. He must have just joined you.”
He shuddered.
“Let me get your things,” I said, collecting his toiletries and clothes, and walked over to him.
He swallowed hard as he took them. “Thank you.” Then he lifted his chin, proud and defiant. “I’m sure you have a joke or something you’d like to say. Maybe sing the ‘Jeremiah was a Bullfrog’ line. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard it.”
I gave his shoulder a squeeze, ignoring the fact that he was very naked under that towel. “There ain’t nothing funny about phobias,” I said.
His eyes searched mine, and maybe he was looking for the punchline. He wouldn’t find one.
“Thank you,” he whispered, clutching his clothes.
“Gotta say, though,” I said brightly, waving him up and down. “You’re more ripped than I assumed a scientist would be.”
He scowled at me then pulled his shirt back on. “Do you make inappropriate comments to all your visitors?”
“Only the really hot ones.”
He stared at me.
It made me laugh. “Just kidding. I told ya before, I ain’t ever brought anyone out here.”
He grumbled under his breath, then pulled his shorts on under his towel, then finally pulled it free. He was still scowling at me but he sighed. “Well... thank you for getting rid of the...” He waved his hand in the direction of the bathroom.
“No problem. I’ll try and rig up something for ya tomorrow,” I said. “To stop any uninviteds from tryin’ to catch a lucky peek at ya.”
He clearly chose not to reply to that. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll have to brush my teeth out here.”
“That’s fine. Take a cup of the water I boiled earlier and spit it outside.”
“Oh.” He made a visible effort to compose himself. “Good idea.”
I decided to take a quick shower, absent any frogs, and I came out wearing just my boxer shorts. If my shirtlessness bothered him, he’d have to get used to it. It was freaking hot.
He was unrolling the fly net above the bed and he stalled when he saw me. He checked me out, like he did the night before when I wore just boxers to bed and like he did when I took my shirt off in the afternoon.
He could deny it all he liked, but I knew what I saw.
