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They’d seen the kiss.
It had happened.
But this wasn’t the time to dissolve into a pool of swoony goo or try to untangle the knot of competing emotions.
She resurrected her beauty queen grin. “The porch. Me. I go there. Bring bonbons.”
That tiny peck had rendered her a brain-scrambled, babbling cavewoman.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Tomás said over his shoulder as he and Bess set off.
She nodded because her ability to form words wasn’t working so well.
Take a second and pull yourself together.
She stood there, holding the tray of bonbons while surrounded by pine trees and swaying aspens, like the wilderness welcome wagon lady—minus the wagon.
“Sit on the porch and watch for the kid,” she murmured, grateful she’d regained the ability to vocalize a cohesive thought.
She hadn’t even taken a step when a faint rustling at her feet caught her attention, and…
“Snake,” she yelped. Her opera voice kicked in, and it wasn’t only dogs that could hear her high-pitched cry. Gray with a white stripe down its back, the snake slithered toward her like she’d called the damn thing.
Oh, hell no. No stupid snake was taking her down.
She grabbed two bonbons. “Back off, you douche nozzle of a snake,” she growled and pelted the reptile with chocolate. “Don’t even think about making me drop these.” She raised the tray over her head and tiptoe-ran—which was way more challenging than one would expect—toward the house, shrieking like a whistling tea kettle, when a bubbly sound floated over on the breeze.
What was that?
She checked the ground. It wasn’t the snake. The creature ignored the bonbons—his loss—and wound his way into the tall grasses.
“You’re passing up a tasty treat, Mr. Douche Nozzle Snake,” she taunted, reasonably sure there weren’t more snakes waiting to ambush her on the path. With the snake situation under control, she took one careful step, then another, before the tittering sound returned.
And now she could identify it.
Fizzy little girl giggles.
And they were coming from the darkened garage.
Playing it cool, she casually glanced in the direction of the noise as a form zipped past the window.
Hello, Miss Eat Worms.
She could call out for Landon and his parents. And perhaps she should.
But she didn’t.
If Tomás was right, and she suspected he was, the little-girl giggles were Aria’s way of dropping catch-me-if-you-can breadcrumbs.
Sticking with her calm and collected tactics, she cleared her throat. “Everyone went to check the woods. I’ll check the garage. But I’m sure Aria’s not there. She’s probably holed up with a pack of mountain lions.”
Another round of giggles emanated from the darkened structure.
Tomás was right.
Aria had set this trap.
The game was on.
