Page 9 of It's In His Hiss

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

“Like a tragic comedy.” The corners of his mouth tilt upward. “Without the tragedy, hopefully.”

I glimpse his hypnotic green eyes and step closer, irrevocably drawn to him. The winking snake from before tilts its head, studying me.

“What?” I ask, studying its beady little eyes.

The snakeflicks its tongue, then lightly taps my nose.

I blink. “Uh. Did I just pass some kind of test?”

Gordy hums in thought. “They don’t usually let people get this close.”

Alice smirks. “So what you’re saying is, theylike me.”

The snakewraps around Gordy’s ear and hisses pointedly.

Gordy sighs. “This one likes you. The others are still suspicious.”

I smirk. “Let me guess—I’verattledthem.”

Gordy stares at me.

“Rattled. Get it?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Was that one of those puns you were talking about earlier?”

“Oh, absolutely. And I’ve gottonsmore where that came from.”

“Of course you do.” Gordy chuckles and shakes his head. He casts a glance upward, and I catch the sparkle in his eye before he focuses on a point somewhere over my shoulder. “So, about dinner. How about tacos? I thought we’d keep it simple. No risk of… incidents.”

“Simple sounds perfect,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant even though my insides are doing somersaults.

Chapter 5

Gordy

I’m balancing a stack of graphic novels Alice might like when she breezes into the bookstore, her silky sable hair as vibrant as the first brushstroke on a blank canvas. Her dark blue eyes scan the shelves before landing on me.

“Hey,” she says with that quiet intensity that always pulls me in. “You won’t believe what happened at my place.”

“Try me.” I set the books down on a nearby table and lean against it, trying to look casual despite the butterflies doing acrobatics in my stomach.

“It started in my art studio,” she says, using air quotes for “studio,” which means the sunnycorner of her bedroom. “I woke up the other morning, and there was paint on my new canvas. Not just any paint, paint in a style that isn’t mine. And this morning, there was wet paint mixed on my palette, colors I’ve never used before.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a poltergeist with a master’s in fine art,” I say with a polite smile. I want to keep things light, but the revelation sends a shiver through me.

Her brows knit together as she steps closer to me. “Or someone is breaking in and doing a Banksy.”

I feel the agitation from the top of my head before I hear it, a chorus of hissing that makes both of us flinch. My snakes have been on edge around Alice from day one. It’s frustrating. Why can’t they see how amazing she is?

“Sorry, they’re not fans of mystery, I guess,” I murmur, reaching up to calm them. Their writhing under my touch tells me it’s no use. They’re not settling down. Sighing, I pull a knit cap from my back pocket and tug it over my snake-laden scalp. Instantly, the hissing subsides into a disgruntled murmur against my skin.

“Better?” I ask, hoping my embarrassment doesn’t show.

“Much,” Alice says with a sweet smile that sends a jolt straight to my heart.

She steps closer, and my snakeswrithe beneath the knit cap. One particularly bold snakeslips free from under the fabric, flicking its tongue at Alice like it’s scolding her.

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