A Future to Fight For by Mindy Obenhaus

Author:Mindy Obenhaus
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2021-05-13T16:33:37+00:00

Chapter Nine

Bile burned the back of Paisley’s throat as she stood in the open doorway of the castle late Wednesday morning. When Crockett suggested the water had receded enough for them to safely check on things at the castle, she’d been more than eager. But she definitely wasn’t prepared. Mud and muck stretched the length of the entry hall and beyond.

“I think I might be sick.” She pressed a hand to her stomach.

Crockett stepped inside. “I’d say we got off pretty easy.” Crouching, he eyed the area where the floor met the wall. “Doesn’t look like we had more than six inches.” He stood. “Could have been much worse.”

“I don’t even want to think about what that would have looked like.” Wearing her rubber boots, she moved into the entry hall before making a left into the library. Things hadn’t fared any better in there. “Good thing we took those drapes down.”

They wandered from room to room, assessing the damage, which was pretty much the same no matter where they went on the first level. Mud-covered floors, small puddles, dank air. Far more than a mop or a fan could cure.

“I’m glad there wasn’t any carpeting down here.” She continued into the kitchen where her packing had come to a halt. “This looks even more disgusting than it did before.”

“Good news.” Crockett moved behind her. “It was slated to be a gut job anyway.”

“What do we do about all this mud? Shovel? Shop-Vac?”

“No, we’re leaving this to the professionals. Molly’s already given me the go-ahead to bring in remediation specialists—” He grabbed her elbow and tugged her toward him. “Looks like we have a guest.”

“A guest?” She peered up at him. “What do you mean a—?”

His gaze was intent.

Following his stare, she saw something slithering near one of the cupboards. A shudder ran through her as she took another step back. “Is it poisonous?”

“Yep. It’s a cottonmouth.” His dark eyes still fixed on the snake, he said, “Hand me that broom by the door.”

Reaching behind her, she grabbed the old wooden broom and handed it to him. “How are you going to kill it with that?”

Armed, he took a step forward. “Why don’t you open that door.” He nodded toward the corner of the kitchen. “Then come on back here behind me.”

“Why? What are you—?”

“Door please.” His voice was calm as he nudged the snake with the end of the handle—something the snake did not take kindly to.

“How do I know that isn’t where he came from or that there aren’t any more?”

“Paisley. Please.”

She huffed out a breath, grabbed the phone from her pocket and turned on the flashlight before cautiously approaching the area. Satisfied it was clear, she pulled the door open and hurried back toward the swinging door.

“Thaaank you.” He slowly lifted the broom handle, bringing the snake with it. Then he inched toward the door, holding the broom steady, his focus never leaving the nasty creature.

When he stepped outside, she moved closer to see him lower the snake into the grass.

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