Sandra Hill - [Jinx] (29 page)

“Afraid of them?”

“Hell, no. Just don’t like ’em.” Probably stemmed from all those years as a kid when he’d helped hand-plow the fields and uncovered lots of the slimy buggers—usually black or garden variety, but even the occasional rattler. And he’d had to deal with plenty in SEAL survival training, too.

“Well, you had to know coming here that an underground cavern would have snakes.”

“Sure, I knew that. I just didn’t expect any anacondas.”

She laughed, and her whole face lit up, even her eyes, which were a pale, pale green.

Nice.
But he could see how some people might consider her eyes sort of woo-woo, fitting into the crazy category.

“Don’t worry, he’s not poisonous . . . though he has been known to bite.”

“You’re really enjoying yourself at my expense, aren’t you?”

“Yep!” But then she switched subjects and floored him. Women had a talent for doing that to a guy, one minute talking about the latest hot chick movie and the next asking him something personal, something he absolutely does not want to discuss, like the size of his, oh, let’s say, rifle, or why hasn’t he ever married, or what’s that huge chip on his shoulder with the word
family
chiseled on it.

What Claire zinged him with was: “Peachey . . . that’s an Amish name, isn’t it? An Amish Navy SEAL? That’s an oxymoron, isn’t it?”

I’m a moron, all right. Left myself wide open. Why don’t I just paint a target on my chest that says, “Shoot Me.”