Page 8 of Hiss and Make Up
The biggest problem with this whole scenario was that the snake should not have been in that box. The lid was too heavy and the gap between the lid and box was way too small for a snake that size to squeeze through.
“Am I missing something?” Marc asked. He’d been following her silently, several feet back. Sierra didn’t miss the fact that he had pointed her in the direction of the deck box but stayed clear himself.
“What?”
“That look.” He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his jean pockets. “Ever since I brought you in the shed, you’ve looked like some Sherlock mystery has you stumped.”
He’d been fidgeting since she got there, and the distraction was beginning to annoy her. New Marc might be adorable, but beneath that sexy-as-hell stubble and those dark, soulful eyes, he was still squirmy, old Scott.
“I only wanted to know if I needed to look out for more of these and if they were poisonous.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and ruffled his hair again. “I didn’t think I’d be bringing in some major inquisition.”
“Why don’t you go piss your pants somewhere else and let me handle the grown-up stuff, okay?”
Another pang of guilt smacked her. But being around this guy made her feel—and apparentlyact—like a kid again.
Well, a kid was someverygrown-up feelings.
She should go easy on him, but this was Scott. Or Marc. Or whatever his name was. The same smart-mouthed, goody-goody kid. The one who wouldn’t tell his mom they were playing in the ditch and that Sierra cut her leg there. No, he had to tell the truth. He had to tell his mom that Sierra followed the boys out to the coulee and slid down the side. Of course, then his mom had to call Sierra’s dad and get her in trouble.
To keep herself from staring at him, she kept reminding herself that this was the same guy who didn’t listen to her. Ever. Not even after she moved.
He couldn’t just let her go. He had to drag it out and ruin everything. To say goodbye. To kiss her.
Then go out with Kassie Bergeron and not even bother to tell her about it.
Not that Sierra gave a rat’s butt about that. Not now, at least.
“Hey, cut me some slack.” A smirk crept onto his face. “I haven’t done that since fifth grade when you put that lizard in my book sack. Remember? It crawled right across my desk in the middle of Mrs. Hebert’s class.”
Sierra laughed. That had been so worth the ten minutes it took her to catch it. And the hour of detention. “Skink,” she corrected.
“What?”
“It was a skink.”
“What was?”
“The lizard. It wasn’t a lizard. It was a skink.”
He smiled. “Yep. Same old Sierra.”
She smiled too, caught in those dark brown eyes and remembering the last time they were together. The two of them face to face. Closer than they were now. Saying goodbye. She had a sudden urge to run her fingers through his hair, but she shook her head and brought herself back to a rational line of thinking.
Snake. Think, snake.
“It shouldn’t be here,” she said.
“What? The skink?”
“No, forget the skink. Your snake. I can’t figure out how or why a water snake got inside that deck box.”
“So that’s what it was, just some water snake?”
“No, not just some water snake. It looked like maybe a broad-banded from your photo, but I couldn’t be sure. When I saw it in the shed, the banding and coloration still could have gone either way. When I found the tail, that’s when I was sure. You killed a water moccasin. A young one, but still a moccasin.”
He took a step back, and his face paled. After she followed his line of sight, she realized she’d been waving the tail in front of him.
Smooth, Sierra. Smooth.
