Page 18 of Hiss and Make Up
“Stop what?”
“Just stop it. Whatever you’re thinking, Sierra Menard, stop thinking it.”
She grinned. Crap. He was almost as cute when he was demanding and bossy as when he was scared.
Still, she wasn’t about to let him tell her what to do. No one bossed her around. Ever. Or at least they didn’t get away with it.
“I was just thinking,” she said, placing the pillowcase on the floor of the passenger’s side of her car. “I mean, I’m not getting paid for this little venture out here today. And it’s not like it’s our job to get those snakes out of there—animal control territory.”
“Right. Thanks for coming out here, by the way.”
She waved off his thanks. “I don’t need applause, I need cash.”
He furrowed his brow and tilted his head like a confused puppy. “I can pay you.”
He could. She could ask him to. But that was small potatoes. She was thinking bigger picture here. He had a big problem. Someone was clearly messing with his sister. She didn’t know why—yet—but it couldn’t be a coincidence. He needed someone to get to the bottom of this. Someone who could identify those snakes. Someone who could figure out where they came from. Someone who could maybe even figure out who put them there. Because the more she considered it, the more convinced she was that someone did this.
The hard part would be convincing Marc that she had to be the one to figure it out. On his or Denise’s dime.
“How about you buy me that lunch a little early? I’m starving.”
“I already ate,” he said, checking his phone for the time. “But I have a few hours before I have to be at the stadium. UL game tonight.”
“Right. Well then.” She rolled the window down and shut the door. “Let’s do a sweep of the property and we can drop this guy off at the Nature Station on our way.”
“Sure.” Then, realizing his mistake, he said, “Wait, no. I hate that place. Gives me the creeps.”
“Would you rather pull up a third chair for the snake at lunch?”
She loved messing with him. Just like old times. Old times with a little more heart-racing and butterflies.
He shuddered and shook his head. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
* * *
Sierra held the pillowcase at her side and walked up the wooden stairs leading to the Nature Station. She leaned over the railing to spot Marc at the base, doodling in the dirt with the toe of his sneaker.
“I thought you wanted to come with me,” she called down.
“I’ll wait here,” he hollered. “Enjoying the fresh air.”
“Chicken!”
“Hurry up, if you want me to buy you lunch!”
She grinned to herself. “Watch out for the copperheads. They’re looking for winter nesting spots, so they’re getting kind of tired and cranky.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. They would be looking for nesting spots, just not yet. It was still too warm. Plus, all the foot traffic kept them off the trails and no one had ever been bitten in the park.
Not that Marc needed to know any of that.
She rested against the wall while Marc’s hastened footsteps clomped up the stairs. When he got to the upper deck, he glared at her, but with less annoyance than she expected. As if he knew she was messing with him but came up anyway. Something about knowing that made her head spin a little and her breath hitch in her chest.
She hid her smile as she went through the door Marc held open for her. When she brushed against his arm, an unexpected heat wave tickled up her back. Weird, exciting, and totally unacceptable.
They found Dale at his desk, his nose buried in journals, preparing for his latest column.
“Well, this is unexpected. What are you doing here on your day off?” Dale asked. “You know I can’t give you extra hours with the budget cuts.”
