“Sadie, you're not paying attention,” Jonah complains, hand propped on his hip in a perfect imitation of his father when he's annoyed.
“Sorry, buddy. I was just…”Inappropriately eye-fucking your dad.“Thinking about what we should have for dinner.”
“Can we have mac and cheese?”
“If your dad says it’s okay,” I tell him. “But promise me you’ll try some of those baby carrots we got too.”
Jonah wrinkles his nose but nods. Then he perks up. “Can I go get my race cars? We can make a track in the dirt.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
He takes off toward the house at a dead run, screen door slamming behind him, and I'm left standing in the yard alonewith the sun beating down, the smell of sweetgrass in the air. Bees buzzing over at the wildflowers by the creek.
I glance over at Walker. He's crouched down now, checking the alignment of a post, and even from here I can see the flex of his thighs, the way his jeans pull tight across his ass.
My eyes linger on the way his Wranglers cling toeveryinch of him. It’s hard not to think about what he looks like underneath.
Something moves in the grass near my feet.
I look down.
There's a snake.
Right there. Less than two feet away. Coiled and thick-bodied and setting off every primal human instinct I possess.
The sound that comes out of me is somewhere between a scream and a yelp, and suddenly I'm climbing onto the nearest hay bale stack like it's a life raft and the ground is lava.
Walker's head snaps up.
In what feels like seconds, suddenly he’s right by my side. I’ve never seen him move that fast, closing the distance between us in no time flat, eyes scanning me first and then the ground, his whole body gone tense and alert in a way that would be attractive if I weren't currently losing my mind over a reptile.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” His eyes are doing a rapid assessment like he's checking for injuries.
“Snake!” I point with a shaking hand. “Right there!”
He follows my finger, locates the snake, and I watch his shoulders drop slightly. “Sadie. That's a bullsnake.”
“I don't care what kind of snake it is!”
“It's not venomous.”
“It's asnake, and it’s seven feet long!”
“Is this the same girl who snottily informed me that snakes only strike when cornered?”
“First of all, I wasn’t being snotty. And secondly, it is literally in a corner! Look at it!”
The snake uncoils itself. Lifts its head and its long, sinuous body up in a terrifying way as it hisses.
I squeak.
The corner of his mouth twitches. He's trying not to smile.
Honestly, the gall. The man is laughing at me while I'm stranded on a hay bale halfway to a nervous breakdown.
“It's not funny!” I protest.
“I know.” But he's definitely smiling now. “You're just... really high up there.”
