Last Chance Book Club(23)
Author: Hope Ramsay

“I’m here to help.”

She stared at him for the longest moment.

“What? You don’t think I’m capable of helping?” he asked.

“I’m just surprised is all.” Except she wasn’t surprised. Dash had been amazingly helpful on so many fronts. And that tool belt looked good on him. It looked as if he knew how to use those tools, too.

“I thought I could mosey up to the apartment and see what it needs.”

“Ah, I get it. You’re looking forward to the day I move out.”

He smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I am. I’m getting tired of having to wear a bathrobe every morning when I bump into you.”

His eyes twinkled when he said that, and she realized that he was teasing her again. But before her addled brain could form a sexy comeback line, he turned and strode toward the grand staircase.

“You don’t have to wear a robe,” she said to his back.

He didn’t react. He just kept walking away, giving her a great view of his Wrangler-clad butt. It was official, Dash Randall’s backside was hot. Real hot. And she hoped he quit wearing his bathrobe so she could get an even better look at it.

She turned back to her sponge, but her equilibrium had been disturbed. It was shattered completely five minutes later when her scrubbing was interrupted by a loud crash. Followed by the sound of Dash cussing in two languages. No doubt he’d learned those Spanish words from his Latin teammates over the years.

“Dash, are you okay?” she yelled, her heart suddenly in her throat.

She dropped her sponge and stripped off the rubber gloves. She got as far as the landing when Dash came barreling down the stairs in the opposite direction. “Honey, there are rattlesnakes up in the projection room. I don’t know how many. After I freaked out, I shut the door on ’em and called animal control, but we need to get out of here. I don’t know how many more might be lurking around.”

She blinked, her heart rate returning to normal. “Dash, come on. I’m not falling for this a second or a third time. So you can just quit. If you came here to play some kind of practical joke on me, I—”

She never finished her sentence because Dash picked her up and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, thereby giving her the close-up-and-personal view of his Wrangler-clad backside that she had just been wishing for. Unfortunately she was so furious with him that she couldn’t entirely enjoy the moment.

“Dash, put me down.”

She got no response. Instead he marched down the stairs oblivious to her demands or even the fists she used to pummel his sexy derriere.

She was still hollering when he finally set her down on the sidewalk outside the theater.

“You overbearing, annoying, cowboy-hat-wearing, practical-joke-playing ass—” She took a big swing at his face, but he caught her fist before she got anywhere close to his jaw.

“You know, princess, you always did have one heck of a temper.”

“There aren’t any snakes up there. You just came here to make me feel—” She bit off the end of her words because right then a big van bearing the words “Allenberg County Animal Control” rolled to the curb.

About this time, Pat Canaday and two of her customers came piling out of The Knit & Stitch, across the street. “Hey Savannah, is Dash giving you a hard time, honey? Should I call Bill Ellis?” she hollered.

“Oh, brother,” Dash muttered, turning away to greet the uniformed man in the van.

At the same moment, a police vehicle pulled up, and Damian Easley, the Last Chance chief of police, rolled down his window. “I got a call from dispatch. What’s this about snakes in the theater?” he asked just as a big, red, shiny fire truck arrived on the scene, blocking one lane of traffic. At least half a dozen big guys in raincoats and fire hats and big rubber boots started jumping off the truck.

Within minutes, shop owners and Saturday shoppers started gathering on the sidewalks. And for the first time in Savannah’s memories of Last Chance, there was a traffic jam on Palmetto Avenue.

“Hey, princess, you believe me now?” Dash asked.

She found herself looking up into his ball-cap-shaded eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said in a tiny voice.

He cocked his head. “Say it louder.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

He smiled. And that full-mouthed grin was devastating. “I accept your apology.”

He didn’t even offer to apologize for the way he carried her out of the building. But for some reason, she didn’t mind. He probably considered it a rescue.

“Dash, honey, did I hear you say snakes. As in more than one?” Pat yelled from across the street.

“Yes, ma’am. And I’m curious about how they got there. I mean rattlers are kind of rare, and the last time I checked that room it was snake-free,” Dash yelled back.

“You think someone put ’em up there?”

He shrugged. “It’s mighty strange.”

Pat and her customers began to speculate among themselves. Meanwhile a little farther up the block, Clay Rhodes set out a folding chair for Arlene Whitaker in front of Lovett’s Hardware, and across the street it looked like Lessie Anderson was standing on the sidewalk outside the Cut ’n Curl with permanent rollers in her hair.

Pat sauntered across the street. “I declare this is fun. We haven’t had such a ruckus since last summer when Rocky Rhodes told everyone off and then allowed Hugh deBracy to carry her off in his rented Mustang.”

“Well, if y’all will excuse me, I’m a member of the volunteer fire department,” Dash said. He turned and headed back into the building along with the other firemen, dog catcher, and chief of police. A moment later, Bubba Lockheart came huffing up the street carrying a lawn chair and a video camera.

He handed the chair to Savannah. “Clay Rhodes sent this up from the hardware store. You just sit tight, Miz Savannah, and we’ll take care of everything.” He held up his camera. “I’m going to tape this. I’m thinking we could get an eyewitness video on the news tonight. And that would be good for business.” He hurried into the theater while Savannah sank down into the chair.

“It’s a shame you didn’t have a gator. I think gators are way more dramatic than snakes. I can’t believe how much free publicity this is going to get you,” Pat said.

“You mean negative publicity, right?”

Pat shrugged. “People love a good snake story. Just look at that movie about snakes on a plane. You know, you might think about showing that movie at your grand opening.”

“Right. I hated that movie. I hate snakes.”

Pat patted Savannah’s shoulder. “Honey, you live here long enough and you get used to them.”

Fifteen minutes later, the men marched back out of the theater bearing a big wooden box that was making a very unsettling noise.

Damian Easley was grinning from ear to ear. “I declare, Savannah, your cousin is one hell of a snake wrangler. I knew he was good with horses and kids, but I swear, it was kind of amazing to watch him. I’m thinking we should put him on call with the animal control unit.”

He tipped his Stetson and got back into his cruiser. The firemen got back on their truck and drove away. The crate of hissing and rattling snakes was loaded into the animal control van.

Dash and Bubba came out of the theater.

“Oh, boy,” Bubba said, “wait until WLTX sees this footage. We’re going to make the evening news, I’m sure. Especially since Dash did most of the work, and he’s a former big-league baseball star.” Bubba ran up the street, headed for Bill’s Grease Pit.

“You’re all clear,” Dash said. “But, honey, you need a cat.”

“Don’t snakes eat cats? I wouldn’t want to put a cat in danger,” she replied. “I like furry animals better than scaly ones.”

“I figured that when I saw those humane mousetraps. You will be happy to know that we didn’t kill any snakes today, because rattlers are practically an endangered species in these parts. But, princess, snakes and cats both eat mice. And without a cat to eat the mice, you can get snakes. Usually just black snakes, which are harmless. But I’m telling you, you need a cat.”

There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He’d had a lot of fun catching those snakes. She could tell. And that made her want to laugh for some reason. Despite the scary nature of this problem, she found herself looking up into his bright blue eyes and feeling lighter than air.

“Well, c’mon,” he said, “we made a full sweep of the place. It’s snake-free, but I can’t say the same for the rodents. Let’s get back to work. The excitement is over.”

He offered her his hand, and she let him pull her up out of the lawn chair. That was a big mistake. His hand was huge, and warm, and obviously competent. Not only had he played baseball with those hands, but he also fixed broken porch steps, played Ultimate Frisbee, and wrangled snakes. Her libido woke up and made a number of urgent demands. This time the fluttery, hot feelings in her middle weren’t entirely unwanted.

A girl could get used to a guy like this. He wasn’t Superman. He couldn’t fly, but he was doing a real impersonation of a hero.

Dash was wrestling with a bunch of vet bills in his office at the Painted Corner Stables on Monday morning when Stone Rhodes, the sheriff of Allenberg County, paid him a visit.

“I guess you’re here to talk about Lizzy,” Dash said.

“Uh, well, no, not exactly,” the sheriff said.

“What’s up?”

Stone sat down in the chair facing Dash’s desk. “It’s about those snakes you found in the theater.”

“What about them?”

“They’re western diamondbacks. According to the herpetologist up in Orangeburg, they aren’t native to South Carolina.

Stone leaned back in his chair. “We’re working on the assumption that those snakes were put there on purpose. Do you have any idea of who might want to sabotage Savannah’s theater renovation?”

Dash looked down at the bills on his desk. “Savannah’s ex-mother-in-law isn’t too wild about her moving down here. I gather that she wants the kid to go to some fancy prep school in Baltimore. But I don’t think Savannah’s mother-in-law would put snakes in The Kismet’s projection room.”

“Probably not. And that’s my problem, Dash.”

“You think it’s someone local?”

Stone shook his head and let go of a big sigh. “Who else has keys to the place?”

“Savannah has keys. And I also have a set. I reckon that makes me a person of interest.”

Stone didn’t laugh. Dash went on alert. “Stone, I didn’t put snakes in the theater.”

“I’m inclined to believe you, but I have to investigate every lead. And right now, you are probably my main suspect.”

“Why would I put snakes in the theater?”

“Well, because you don’t like Savannah, and everyone knows that. And then there’s the whole TV angle.”