Saddle Up(20)

He looked up from tending his meal. “What do you mean?”

“I was clueless about the real world. I grew up in a small town, the kind of place where everyone knows everyone and no one ever leaves, but I always wanted more. After graduation I headed out to the West Coast, but L.A. was almost a culture shock for me. Where I grew up, most people didn’t lock their houses or their cars. Out in L.A., we not only lock, but alarm everything. I never feel completely safe, even at home, but then again,” she added dryly, “I don’t live in the best of neighborhoods.”

“So why filmmaking?” he asked.

“I don’t know exactly. I’ve always loved movies and photography, so I guess filmmaking seemed like a good fit for me. But I’ve spent more time fetching Starbucks than making movies. In fact, that short of yours for Bibi was the only thing that even qualifies as a real film. The rest of my work has been mostly commercials and corporate promo crap that I hate. I suppose that’s better than videotaping weddings, but it’s still a far cry from what I want to do. I’d like to take on worthy projects, tell stories that others in this industry ignore. I’d like to be successful, but I’m not doing it to get rich and famous.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Are you saying you’re only interested in satisfying your creative muse?”

“Well, not at the expense of starving,” she confessed with a laugh. “Speaking of which, are you really going to eat that snake?”

“Yes.” Keith flashed a full-toothed smile for the first time. The effect almost knocked her on her ass. “My people have consumed them for centuries.”

“But it’s venomous,” she argued.

“All of the venom is in the head. We don’t eat that part. Want to try it?” He came toward her, offering his plate.

“No, thank you.” She waved it away, her lips curled back in revulsion.

“The meat of this snake has got to be better than that shit on a shingle you’re having with God knows what in it.”

She shuddered. “At least my meal never slithered on the ground.”

“You don’t know that. How can you be certain what’s really in it? Or do you actually trust those government labels?”

“To be honest, I’d rather not know.” She gave a dry laugh. “As they say, ‘Ignorance is bliss.’”

His reserve had begun to melt, and the scowl had lifted from his brow. His black eyes taunted her as he took another hunk of meat off the stick he’d used as a skewer and popped a piece into his mouth. “Tastes just like chicken. Are you always afraid to try new things?”

“I am daring about some things,” she insisted. “Just not my food.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged. “Ever gone skinny-dipping?” His gaze drifted slowly over her in a way that made her feel naked.

“Not since the kiddie pool in the backyard, but that was well before puberty.”

“What about zip-lining? Ever done that?”

“Nope,” she confessed. “I don’t really like heights.”

“I would have thought the girl who came out here in the middle of the desert would be much more adventurous.”

“Are you implying that I’m dull? Am I boring you, Keith?” She didn’t know why his opinion mattered. Maybe she wasn’t the most exciting person in the world, but who would be, compared to this Indiana Jones? Although Indiana would certainly have sided with her about the snake.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said. “I don’t know you well enough to imply anything. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”

“Why?” she asked, wondering at his sudden interest, when only a couple of hours ago he wanted nothing to do with her.

“Might as well, since we’re stuck here together,” he replied.

Miranda felt another stab of disappointment. It wasn’t real interest in her that prompted the questions but only a desire to pass the time. If that was the case, he’d get the Reader’s Digest Condensed version.

“There’s not much to tell beyond what you already know. I grew up in central Ohio, went to community college, and then came to California to learn cinematography. I finished my internship last year, and now I’m trying to get into films. I haven’t had much luck yet, but I’m hoping to make something of this opportunity.”

“Since you don’t like unusual foods, I guess you haven’t traveled much,” he said.

“No, I haven’t traveled,” she admitted. “Other than summers with my grandparents in Montana and then moving to L.A., I haven’t seen much of this country or any other for that matter. What about you?” she asked. “How adventurous are you?”

His mouth curved suggestively. “Depends on what we’re discussing.”

Was she imagining the innuendo? She couldn’t ignore her response to him but refused to acknowledge it. She was already too physically aware of him to be encouraging those kinds of thoughts. “Other foods, other cultures,” she said.

“I like to think I’m open-minded.” He popped another piece of roasted rattlesnake into his mouth. “I’ve lived on the road for the past eight years and spent two of those abroad.”

“Really? Where did you go?” She hated that his life was so much more interesting than hers. In comparison, she really was dull and boring.