Seconds to Live (Scarlet Falls #3)(101)

Stella stroked the dog’s soft head. “Such a pretty girl.”

Wiry, tan, and covered in grass stains, Carson was a mini-Mac. Mud splattered the bare legs and feet that stuck out from under his black athletic shorts. A dinosaur, and something that might have been ketchup, decorated his T-shirt.

Carson squinted at her. “I know you. You work with Brody. You’ve been here before, and you were at my grandpa’s funeral.”

“I was,” Stella said.

“Look what I found!” He thrust his hand toward her. A small snake hissed in her face.

“Ah.” Stella started, falling backward and landing on her butt in the grass. She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart protested the shock, and pain shot through her hip where she’d landed on a rock.

Mac extended a hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet.

“Are you OK?” Concern—and humor—lit his eyes. He was pressing his lips together, as if trying not to laugh.

She rubbed her throbbing hip.

Carson’s smile dimmed, his gaze dropped to the ground, and he deflated. “I’m sorry, Uncle Mac. I didn’t know she was scared of snakes. Aunt Hannah isn’t.”

“It’s OK, buddy.” Mac squatted. “You didn’t know.”

“I’m fine,” Stella reassured him. “I’m not scared at all,” she lied. “Just surprised.”

“Let’s see that snake.” Mac reached out and took the creature. It was about two feet long, with a slender body decorated in orange and white stripes.

Instead of hissing at Mac, the snake wrapped its body around his tanned hand and forearm.

Smart snake.

“What a beauty,” Mac said.

Carson stroked the snake’s head. “He likes you.”

“He likes my body heat.” Mac held the snake toward Stella. “Want to pet him?”

She didn’t. Not. One. Bit. But the pride on Carson’s face made her feel like a slug for frightening him. This little boy had lost both his parents the year before. The least she could do was make him happy. And Mac’s grin was challenge enough.

“He’s not venomous,” Carson encouraged. “We only have three kinds of venomous snakes in New York: timber rattlers, copperheads, and the . . . What’s the other one, Uncle Mac?”

“Massasauga.”

“Right.” Carson repeated the name one syllable at a time. “This is a milk snake. He won’t bite.”

Stella plastered a smile on her face, clamped her teeth together, and lifted her hand. Where to touch it? Venomous or not, she wasn’t going anywhere near its mouth. She settled on the tail and touched it with just the tips of her fingers. The skin felt like bumpy plastic. It didn’t move, but she thought three strokes were enough to satisfy Carson. The snake hadn’t been moist or dirty, but she wiped her hand on her slacks anyway.

Mac grinned, then cleared his throat and worked hard to straighten his face.

“Can I keep him?” Carson gently unwound the animal from Mac’s hand. It immediately curled around his arm. “My friend Bobby’s dad has a python he keeps in a fish tank.”

“Do you really think he’d be happy in a fish tank when he’s used to living out here?” Mac gestured to the woods behind the house.

“I guess not.” Carson sighed. “I’ll put him back in the meadow where I found him after I show him to Aunt Hannah.” He gave Stella a knowing look that said she hadn’t fooled him. “She likes snakes.”

Mac smiled. “Good decision and definitely what’s best for the snake.”

“You said we shouldn’t disturb the e-co-system if we don’t have to.” The boy whirled and bolted for the woods. Barking, AnnaBelle raced behind him.

Mac turned and took her hand. “Thanks for touching that snake when you clearly didn’t want to.”

“Snakes aren’t my thing, but I didn’t want him to be upset.”

“And I appreciate it.” Mac stepped closer. “You don’t like spiders or snakes. Didn’t you spend any time in the woods when you were a kid?”

“No. I grew up in Brooklyn. We didn’t move here until I was a teenager.”

“I could teach you to love camping.” His gaze dropped to her mouth.

God, she wanted him to kiss her. “Maybe you can.”

A car door slammed, and Mac moved backward. Damn.

She never tired of him kissing her. She might even let him take her camping.

A minivan had parked in the driveway not twenty feet away. How had Stella not noticed? She’d been too focused on Mac, that’s how.

Grant’s fiancée, Ellie, opened the vehicle’s sliding door and lifted a wiggling toddler to the ground. “Ready?” she called to Mac.

Mac crouched and spread his arms wide.

Ellie released the child. Chubby legs churned as she sprinted for him. He scooped her up and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. Looping her hands around his neck, she returned the gesture. The front door opened, and Grant stepped out onto the porch.

“Down.” Faith wiggled, and Mac set her on the ground. The second her bare feet touched the grass, she shot off for Grant.

“Hi, Mac. Hi, Stella.” Ellie closed the van door. She held a reusable grocery bag in one hand. “Come on in.”