BELINDA BLAKE AND THE SNAKE IN THE GRASS
I stroked the glossy top of a nearby rhododendron leaf, glancing around. The carriage house was bordered by a small grassy plot, surrounded by well-kept flowerbeds that backed up to an old stone wall. Although the house secretary had told me I didn’t have to weed my flowerbeds, I had an itch to do just that. Flower gardening was a passion I’d developed as a teen in Upstate New York, where I had acres to experiment with color groupings and flowerbed styles. But today I’d have to settle for yanking those nuisance blackberry sprouts the gardeners had missed.
I ducked inside to grab my work gloves, then set about pulling the lemony-green, thorny weeds up from the roots. I had worked my way halfway down the bed when I noticed something tucked into the thick boxwood hedge that ran along the stone wall. The red sole on the heel gave me pause. Could it really be a Louboutin? And only one of them? Maybe some of these nouveau riche youth had wild parties outside and didn’t even notice when they lost such an expensive shoe. How very Gatsby.
I snickered. I wouldn’t know the difference between a nouveau riche and an established gent in this town. It hadn’t taken me long to realize that even though my family was well-respected in Larches Corner, New York, no one cared who I was in Greenwich, Connecticut.
I grabbed for the patent leather heel, but it took only a split second for me to realize it was connected to something else. A tan foot.
And the foot was connected to a sleek, tan leg.
I dropped the heel like it was on fire, then stumbled backward onto the stone patio. I couldn’t make sense of what had just happened.
There was a body lying in my flowerbed.
Table of Contents
Cover Copy
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Teaser Chapter
Belinda Blake and the Snake in the Grass
Heather Day Gilbert
LYRICAL UNDERGROUND
Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Copyright © 2019 by Heather Day Gilbert
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Lyrical Underground and Lyrical Underground logo Reg. US Pat. & TM Off.
First Electronic Edition: June 2019
ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0881-7 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-5161-0881-7 (ebook)
First Print Edition: June 2019
ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0884-8
ISBN-10: 1-5161-0884-1
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
To my dad, who concocted the original Belinda, Katrina, and Blitz stories to keep us entertained on long car trips. The characters are all grown up now, but I hope they still carry some of the whimsy of your stories with them.
Chapter 1
The first time I saw Stone Carrington the fifth, I had a snake wrapped around my neck.
Now granted, he acted as if it was something he saw every day, a girl with unwanted snakeskin accents in her curly blonde hair.
“Pet-sitting,” I explained, trying to extricate myself from the ball python I had agreed to “walk” for his owner. “They’re supposedly a relatively mild breed,” I continued.
“I should hope so.” He dipped his tennis visor in a fake bow. Unfortunately, he had emerged from the tennis courts at the exact moment the snake had started climbing me like a tree. “Stone Carrington. And you are?”
“Belinda Blake.” I felt the need to over-explain, one of my persistent habits. “I’m your new tenant. In the carriage house. It’s lovely, by the way.” The snake had stopped wriggling, so I walked a bit faster toward my small house. Why had I chosen to walk up the main drive for another gape at the Carringtons’ mansion?
Stone gave me a once-over as the snake moved again. I was sure my ripped jeans, worn Crocs, and gamer T-shirt didn’t impress, but I was yanked from my self-conscious musings as the python slithered over my shoulder and disappeared down my shirt. I launched into the dance of death, jerking about like Elaine from Seinfeld.
“Here, let me help,” Stone said, making an arguably decent attempt to extricate the wriggling creature from my shirt by wrapping both hands around its tail.
The snake gave a low hiss and slid down further.
“Never mind,” I said hastily, pulling my shirt up and throwing modesty to the wind so I could see the snake’s beady eyes. “Grab its head! We have to grab it!”
Stone was a bit too hesitant as he obliged, and the snake lunged at him.
“It