A sudden glint lit up in his eyes. “Aye. If yer up for it. Tho’ the lads are rough.”

“You’d be surprised what we can handle,” I said.

He didn’t say anything for a minute, and I wondered if he’d been turned off watching his future mate fight for the ball like a boy. I hoped not, because I wasn’t willing to change that particular part of myself.

“This evening,” he stated.

I must have looked confused, because he clarified.

“After supper, if ye’d still like to play we can go to Clour land.” His voice was questioning and hesitant. Nervous.

“Sure.” I tried tone down my overly-eager grin. “That’d be great.”

Cassidy would be beyond thrilled.

McKale peered down at his feet and smiled to himself.

CASSIDY HAD BROUGHT HER pink soccer ball from home. She tossed it from one hand to the other as McKale led us through the shallow part of the stream and into the patch of trees on the other side. Cass sent me an excited glance. We were entering Clour land.

As soon as we cleared the trees I could hear them. We walked into an open glade that slanted downward at the edge. A rundown cottage was barely visible through the trees below. Then I saw them—all twelve of them—at the bottom of the hill, on their knees watching something in the grass and cheering.

“Hopper racing,” McKale said.

As we got closer I could make out the barrier of rocks lining the “racetracks” and a dozen frogs hopping every which way inside. Rock reached in to nudge his frog and one of the other guys bopped the back of his head.

“Hands off, ya cheatin’ bugger!”

Rock grimaced at his dormant green racer and mumbled, “Bollocks.” His frown turned to a giant smile when he looked up and saw the three of us standing there.

He threw his hands out. “’Ey!”

That quickly, the frogs were forgotten and we were surrounded by the curious Clour. Eight of them were full sized and four were little men. None of them were bearded, but half of them did have facial hair of some sort, ranging from all-around scruff to hair along the jawline like McKale, only not as well groomed. They were grimy and their clothes were threadbare, but they were undoubtedly cute guys. Just a little… untamed. And thin.

They pushed McKale out of the way to get a closer look at Cassidy and me. Rock threw his arm around Cass’s shoulder as if claiming her. The playful smile she gave him showed she didn’t mind. His claim didn’t stop the boys, though. They were brazen in their introductions, shoving one another to move forward and take our hands, touching our arms.

“All right,” McKale said, forcing his way back to my side. “Let the lasses breathe, then.”

A guy with roughly chopped brunette hair leaned close to my face, his mouth near mine, and sniffed me. I had to lean away to avoid an accidental kiss. I didn’t feel threatened, only amused, but the attention was kind of overwhelming. They had no physical boundaries.

Others took the brunette’s lead, reaching their faces toward Cassidy and me and breathing deeply. A little guy pressed his nose against Cass’s hip and smelled her shorts, making her laugh. Then his hand ran down the curve of her bottom and Cass jumped, saying, “Hey now!” He ran off, getting his hair rumpled by the other Clour who seemed proud of his boldness.

A dark haired guy came up behind me and sniffed my hair, his nose tickling my neck. “She smells so bleedin’ good.”

McKale gave him a shove. “‘Specially compared to you lot, aye?”

They laughed, but I noted the way McKale sidled right up next to me, his arm heating mine.

“Will you introduce us?” I asked him.

He gave a nod and pointed to the brunette guy who’d been in my face. “This ‘ere is Ardan. The bouncy twins there are Carrig and Connall.” He pointed to two blonds with hair as curly as Rock and bright blue eyes. They waved in sync. “The four wees are Davin, Fancy Francis, Tyke, and Jax.” The little guys all grinned and nodded, different shades of brown hair flopping. “This here’s Blackie.” Blackie was the tallest of them, the same height as McKale, with olive skin and black hair that reached his shoulders. He’d been the one to sniff my neck. With some meat on his bones and a brush through his hair, he was good looking enough to be major trouble.

Next McKale pointed at two redheads with freckled faces. “These are Finbar and Fergus, the carrot cousins.” Their hair was much more orange than McKale’s. “And the last Clour is Dashy. The quickest of the lot.”

Dashy, standing at about five eight with sandy, strawberry blond hair, moved forward like a bolt of energy and grabbed both my hands in his before bringing them to his mouth for a kiss. “Please to meet ya.” Then he moved to Cass and did the same.

“This is Robyn,” McKale said, angling toward me. “And her sister, Cassidy.”

“Ah!” said one of the blond twins, I think Carrig. “McKale’s future shag mate! Here here!”

Holy…

Carrig punched the sky and the other boys did the same, shouting, “Here, here!”

Cassidy chortled and covered her mouth while my face turned red hot. Their laughter was lewd and devoid of regret.

McKale shook his head and scratched his cheek. “Do ya have to be a pack o’ sods? The girls came to play a game o’ ball wit’ ya.”

“Ooh! Is that the ball, then?” asked Dashy. “Tis a strange ball indeed.” They all leaned close, vying for position to get a good look at Cass’s pink soccer ball. She held it out for their inspection.