When did it happen, he wonders? When did he change one unattainable female desire for another?

Sadly, he knows the precise day. June 21. Summer Solstice. Also – and not without coincidence – River’s 18th birthday.

Before that fateful day, he could cling to the excuses.

“She’s too young.” Except in the eyes of the law, she wasn’t.

“She’s too broken.” Except Miranda had healed her.

“She’s too unpredictable.” Except she had finally stabilized.

He is clean out of excuses. And Malcolm Reynolds without an excuse to hide behind when it came to relationships is a sitting duck of a target. He most assuredly does not like being a target.

Girl herself ain’t making it any easier. Particularly when, at her birthday party, she asks him for the first dance around the cargo bay.

One dance, he thinks. He can manage that. Nimbly forgetting about the after-effects of the last couple of times he danced with a girl. One ended in him getting run through with a sword, and the other ended in him somehow acquiring a wife. Dancing and him just don’t mix.

Except she is pouting and pleading, all pretty with her party hair and makeup that Kaylee and Inara did up for her. He thinks, foolishly so, that if he can just get through this one thing, it’ll burn it out of his system. Hair of the dog that bit ya, as Jayne might say.

The second she steps into his arms, he realizes the grievous error he made in such an assumption. He studiously remembers to keep his hands high on her waist, not daring to let them drop any lower, sorely tempted though he might be. It is only through sheer force of will – and the dreaded fear of embarrassment in front of the rest of the crew – that stop-kills the hard-on he can feel starting.

She is lighter than he expects, as if she might just float off into the black without him anchoring her down. Curves where pretty girls should have ‘em. Hair and skin smelling like vanilla.

All of which he knows he should not be thinking.

Too late. Thought already. Which he knows has hum