Secrets in a Small Town Read online

  AFTER DISCUSSING HIS OPTIONS with law enforcement and making a few calls, Owen called it a day and left the site. He hoped the people mucking up his operation with their tree-sit froze their asses off.

  But as he drove away, he didn’t head straight home as he’d initially intended. He made a quick call to Gretchen to let her know he’d be late and not to wait on dinner, then placed a call to Timothy asking if he’d go keep her company for a while. Once that was taken care of, he headed straight for the one person he owed a conversation.

  And if she were smart, she’d listen.

  Timber whined beside him and he gave the dog a good pat to let him know everything was going to be fine. He hopped from the truck and Timber followed. Owen always kept dog supplies in his truck because he never knew how long he’d be out at a site and never wanted Timber to go hungry or thirsty. Because of this, he was able to tie up Timber to the nearest tree with food and water and head for the house, ready to take care of business.

  He was fully prepared to rail at Piper for her part in the tree-sit. He found it hard to believe that she’d known nothing about their plans when everything that family did was an open book.

  He banged on the front door, demanding to be let in. “I know you’re in there. Your little pretend car is parked outside so you can either open this door or I’ll kick it down.”

  PIPER, ON HER FOURTH GLASS of wine, heard the racket outside and wondered if she were imagining it. When she realized whoever it was wasn’t going away, she reluctantly left her bath—albeit a little unsteadily—and tucking a towel around her wet and bubbly body, went to answer the door.

  She opened the door to find Owen, plenty pissed but suitably taken aback by the sight of her practically naked.

  Her first thought was how glad she was it wasn’t Farley standing there, but on the heels of that thought followed another—Owen Garrett was quite possibly the most handsome man on the planet. Particularly when he looked ready to tear her head off.

  “I…we…uh…what are you doing answering the door in a towel?” he demanded to know, his hands going to his lean hips in a way that made a giggle burst from her mouth. He didn’t seem to appreciate the humor in the same way and his frown darkened. “You’re drunk,” he surmised.

  “A little tipsy, perhaps,” she admitted, grinning. She never drank, which would account for the alcohol going straight to her head but she wasn’t going to apologize. It was after hours and she could do what she pleased in her off time. “I’ve had a bad day. Would you care to come in?”

  “You and me both. And no, I would not like to come in until you’ve put on some clothes,” he retorted, though his glazed eyes said otherwise. His reaction tickled her drunken funny bone and caused her to push the envelope. She dropped the towel and his eyes nearly bugged out of his skull.

  “Oh, shit,” he muttered, not quite able to pull his stare from her body though he tried. She giggled and pulled him into the house, straight to her mouth. This was why she rarely drank. But what the hell? It was too late and what was done was done. Might as well enjoy the descent into debauchery. What was she saving her virginity for anyway? At the moment, she couldn’t quite remember. By medieval standards, she was an old maid whose womanly parts likely had dust from neglect. Thank God, they weren’t living in the 1500s, she thought muzzily. If they were, she’d likely have five kids by now. Hmm…kids. Owen Garrett would probably make lovely babies.

  He stiffened against her assault on his lips until she pressed herself tightly against every inch of that firm, muscled body so that her breasts squashed against his chest, pebbling the nipples into hard nubs of aching flesh that begged for more, though more of what, she wasn’t sure. She just knew that she needed something and that need was blotting out every rational thought in her head. He groaned something about only being human and his arms wound around her, drawing her tighter against him until a delicious friction against her sensitive skin caused her head to loll, exposing the column of her neck for his mouth. “Bite me,” she instructed him in a breathy tone that would’ve mortified her to her toes if she’d been a bit more sober. But she wasn’t, so she reveled in her hedonistic request.

  He complied, greedily sucking the tender skin into his mouth, teasing it with light nips and bites. Who would’ve imagined that someone so rough could be so gentle? She thrilled in his touch, wanting more.

  Unfortunately he tried to pull away, much to her dissatisfaction. “Piper, you’re going to regret this when you sober up,” he said, his voice tight with strain. He was adorable when he was trying to do the right thing. She wanted to feel those firm hands on her breasts, wanted to see if his touch would relieve the ache that seemed tethered to her private spots, driving her mad. “Piper…please…”

  “I like it when you beg,” she murmured in a throaty whisper. “But I like it better when you’re being bossy. Come on, tell me what to do. I’m a novice, you know, but I’m a fast study.”

  At that, he fisted a handful of hair in his palm and demanded a kiss from her without using a single word. He devoured her from the inside, owning every single gasp and moan, his hands roamed her backside, creating waves of red-hot need cresting and overtaking her until she was writhing against him, breathless and mindless. He walked her backward until her bare back hit the wall and she gasped then giggled as she hopped into his arms, locking her legs around him so that the heat of her center rubbed nicely against his middle. His mouth descended on her breasts and she nearly swooned like a Victorian lady. Except, there was nothing ladylike about the things she wanted him to do to her. He sucked the hard tips of her nipples into his hot mouth, laving each one with equal, hungry attention. This was good, she purred to herself, loving it. “More,” she demanded on a cry, wiggling against him, urging him to take her against the wall that very second and screw the consequences.

  “Is this the way you want it?” he demanded, his voice a harsh growl in her ear that decimated her ability to think clearly. He reached down to cup her mound possessively with his other hand, rendering her paralyzed with painful anticipation. “Fast and rough? You want me to take you from behind and make you come so hard that you can’t see straight? Or do you want me to take you against this wall, pounding into you until you shatter against me, mindless. I could.” His voice dropped to a whisper, pausing for his words to sink through the lustful haze they’d created. “But you’d hate me in the morning, because your virginity is not something you would want to give to me if you were sober.”

  “I won’t,” she gasped, nearly crying, fearful that he might stop. She’d never wanted anyone like she wanted Owen right now and she didn’t think she could fully blame the alcohol. “I promise.”

  His hand softened to a caress as he smoothed the hair he’d roughed, the lust fading from his eyes. He brushed a kiss against her swollen lips, the sweet, tender slide of his tongue barely breaching her mouth. She gasped softly and her knees trembled, threatening to buckle. She opened her eyes and stared into his, as he said regretfully, “I would.” And he pulled away with a sigh. “Now, please get dressed.”

  An unhappy frown formed on her face as tears filled her eyes. She’d been stone-cold rejected. Turning on her heel, she tried with as much dignity as she could muster in her inebriated state to make it to her bedroom. She only made it as far as her bed before she passed out.

  OWEN RELEASED A SHAKY BREATH and pushed at his rock-hard erection in the hopes of getting the randy member to settle down. He said a prayer for strength and waited a few minutes before going in to check on her. When he saw her, stretched, still as naked as a jaybird, atop her bed, he groaned softly and wondered if he were being punished for something in a past life. Not even Ghandi was tested this much in a single day. Stay focused, he told himself. Think of kittens and basketball, grandmas and broccoli—anything other than the vision of perfection lying there on the bed like a pagan offering.

  He went to her dresser in search of something—anything—to put on her, but when he opened the firs
t drawer, he found a plethora of stringy, girly underthings that made the spit dry up in his mouth and his shaft swell all over again. He shut the drawer. “Forget that. A blanket will do,” he said to her gently snoring form. He wrapped her into the sheet, gritting his teeth at the alluring scent of her body teasing him with what he couldn’t have, and made quick work of hiding that luscious form from view. Once safely tucked in, she curled on her side with a breathy sigh and he couldn’t resist touching her hair. The smooth velvet strands slid sweetly through his fingers, leaving him aching to know more of her. He’d wondered what a bed-tousled Piper would look like. Now he knew and wondered how he was going to get through the coming days with that image in his head.

  He’d have to find a way. Otherwise, the next time Piper found herself in the mood to lose her virginity…he wouldn’t turn her down and to hell with the morning after.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  PIPER ROLLED OVER with a groan, her head splitting and her mouth dry. This feeling, right here, was why she didn’t make it a habit to drink. Her stomach pitched and she stilled in the hopes of causing it to settle. When she felt certain she wasn’t going to throw up, she cautiously made her way to the kitchen in search of aspirin and some crackers.

  Midway through her first saltine, bits and flashes of memory came back to her and she choked on a swallow. Her cheeks flooded with heat as she glanced down at her nude body and realized what had happened last night.

  Oh, God. Owen’s hungry mouth on her breasts…up against the wall…feeling as if she were drowning on a tide of wanton goodness… She covered her face and tried not to cry from the sheer mortification of her actions.

  She remembered begging him to do things to her—things she didn’t even have experience with! She touched her hair, remembering how it felt to have Owen’s fist firmly clenched at her scalp, how it’d made her feel deliciously possessed and her cheeks flared again.

  But her memory slid into darkness after that. Had he taken her virginity? All signs pointed to yes, given how hot and heavy they’d been going at it. But, if that were the case, wouldn’t she feel…different? Perhaps sore, even? She nibbled her bottom lip, unsure. Having a sister right about now would’ve been handy. Unfortunately, everyone she might’ve asked was sitting in a tree—a tree contracted to be cut down by the very man she may have given her virginity to. Oh, Piper. What a right mess you’ve made of things!

  There was only one way to find out what truly happened last night and that was to ask the man involved. She swallowed at the prospect. What was the problem? They were both consenting adults. She could handle this. Yet, her feet remained rooted to the spot. Her phone rang and nearly sent her flying out of her skin. She grabbed it and answered. Though, in hindsight, she wished she would’ve let it go to voice mail.

  Nancy’s voice sounded apologetic as she said, “Sorry to call so early but the editor just caught word that the tree-sitters are going to be forcibly taken down first thing this morning and he wants you there to capture it.”

  She dreaded facing Owen again, but duty called. “Tell him I’m on it,” she said, without a trace of the nausea she felt.

  “I will. You’re a very reliable girl,” Nancy said with a smile in her voice. “Have fun. I know how you love these things.”

  She withheld a sigh. She used to love these things. Now she was starting to see Owen’s side of things and agreed, her parents and their friends were a bit of a nuisance. She said goodbye and hung up.

  Well, she’d better shower. Time was wasting. She had a date with a situation that was guaranteed to be awkward and miserable. Yippee.

  OWEN WATCHED WITH GRIM satisfaction as the cherry picker lifted the police officer to the level of the tree-sitters. He heard, rather than saw, Piper drive up. Within minutes she was standing beside him, snapping pictures as one by one the tree-sitters were forcibly—but safely—removed by the officer.

  “Back on the job, I see,” he noted, keeping his mind where it should be instead of where it wanted to be, which was reliving every moment he’d spent tasting and touching Piper’s body. He scrubbed at his head as if the movement alone could shake out the memory yet it remained in full Technicolor and THX-digital sound.

  “A good reporter always goes where the story is,” she said, snapping another shot, ignorant of the turmoil twisting his insides into a knot. How could he simultaneously eye her like a succulent snack and want to snarl and yell at her for being such a pain in his ass? Right about now he wanted to grab that fancy camera of hers and pitch it into the woods.

  Last night he’d been thwarted in his attempt to question her about her motives. He wouldn’t let the opportunity pass him by again.

  “Did you know they were going to do this?” he asked, her answer important to him.

  She stopped taking pictures and turned to him, her eyes serious. “No.” Unfortunately, his relief was shortlived as she added, “Well, I’d heard about something that may have been mentioned about it but I never got a date and then I forgot. I’ve been busy with other things.”

  “You don’t think it might’ve been important to mention?” he asked, deceptively calm.

  She had the grace to look guilty even if she didn’t cop to it. “And why would I tell you? That seems inappropriate.”

  He held back the words he wanted to say for another time. Instead, he said, “I’m going to send them a bill for my lost time.”

  She surprised him when she agreed. “Seems fair and expected seeing as their goal was to shut you down for a day or two.” He glanced at her, nonplussed. She shrugged, adding, “However, you’ll have to take them to court to get the money and it will likely cost you more in attorney’s fees than will make it worthwhile, which is something they likely already know.”

  Damn. She had a point. He sent a dark glower toward the group, watching with no small amount of happiness as they were marched into awaiting squad cars. One woman, before being put in the backseat in handcuffs, shouted, “Get out of Dayton! No one wants you here!” and Piper’s expression faltered, clearly bothered by the woman’s shouting.

  “Friends of yours?” he asked.

  “My mother,” she answered with a sigh. She caught his startled gaze. “What? You knew my parents were involved in this. It’s not like it’s a secret.”

  No, he figured not. But her mother? If the woman hated him before, if she found out where his mouth had been last night, she’d really hate his guts. If he were a real jerk, he’d make mention of it as she was dragged off but the good manners Mama Jo had drilled into his head kept his lips firmly shut.

  He glanced at Piper, taking in every last detail with silent care. The morning sun picked up the subtle strands of auburn threaded through her hair like the sparkle of the summer sand during a sunrise and he caught himself before he reached out to touch her. Suddenly, Piper turned to him a bundle of taut nerves and agitation and he was glad to see he wasn’t the only one twisting in the wind over the situation between them.

  “Did you and I…” Piper started then stopped, her mouth tightening with the awkwardness of the moment. She drew a deep breath and he knew what she was getting at but he waited until she threw it out there. “What I mean to say is…did we finish what was started last night because I don’t quite, well, I don’t remember.”

  Equal parts relief and sharp disappointment followed her admission. He shouldn’t be the only one saddled with the memory. He didn’t answer right away and she clearly took that as an affirmative. For some reason he didn’t feel obligated to correct her. He was still mad about the tree-sitters and whether she was an accomplice or not, she was certainly involved.

  “Oh, God. This is terrible,” she said with open distress, which he found mildly insulting.

  “Was it that bad?” he asked.

  “How should I know? You could be the best lover in all of Dayton, or all of California, for all I know, because I don’t have a point of reference to judge against. However, that’s not the point.” He waited, curious to see
where this was going even though his conscience started to twinge about the deception. “The point is that…”

  “You were saving yourself for marriage?” he supplied with mock helpfulness.

  Her mouth firmed. “No. I wasn’t saving myself for anything. I wanted to stay focused on my career not my libido. Now the seal has been broken.”

  He nearly choked. “The seal?” He’d never heard it called that before. “I don’t think I understand.”

  Piper glowered, her brows crashing together with very real agitation, waiting a second for some privacy as the last of the tree-sitters were escorted away, then said, “You know, the seal. If I never know what I’m missing then I don’t lament its absence. But now I know what all the fuss is about and likely I’ll want to do it again at some point.”

  His breathing turned shallow and his mouth dried at her blithe statement. It took every ounce of willpower not to volunteer on the spot to be the one to accommodate her. He certainly didn’t like the idea of anyone else helping her out in that regard. But he didn’t like the obsession he was developing when it came to her, either.

  She seemed lost in thought as she mused aloud. “I suppose I’ll need to consider birth control now. Oh, crud. Did we use a condom?” she asked, rubbing her forehead as if trying to massage the memory free. “This is why I don’t drink. Thankfully, I’m not ovulating or else we could be having an entirely different conversation because I’m certainly not ready to be a mother—not that being the mother to your child wouldn’t be nice, I’m just saying, I’m not ready to be anyone’s baby mama.”

  “Good to know,” he said, though how he managed without sounding as if he were in pain, he didn’t know.

  She sighed, a very put-out sound if he ever heard one, saying, “Yes, well, the problem is, because I don’t exactly remember what the actual deed was like, I’m not entirely sure if I liked it. Everyone says the first time is painful. My mother—” She noted his expression—and possibly the fact he was damn tempted to toss her over his shoulder and find a quiet spot in the woods to educate her on the finer points of what they didn’t actually do—and she faltered, her tongue darting to wet her lips. The action nearly undid him. “Are you all right? You have a funny look on your face.”