Free Secrets in a Small Town by Kimberly Van Meter Page B

remind me that I’m eating something that once had a face. You have no idea how that can kill your appetite.”
    He couldn’t imagine going without meat in his life. “That’s rough,” he acknowledged with a chuckle. “But I’m guessing there are worse secrets to have.”
    “Not in my family,” she muttered darkly, before returning the focus to him. “Nice try with the whole deflection technique. Kid gloves are coming off, Owen Garrett. It’s time for the hard questions.”
    Owen pulled off the road and grinned. “Then I’m lucky that we’re here. You can wait in the truck or come with me, but you have to wear this if you step outside.” He grabbed a spare hard hat from his backseat and handed it to her. She eyed it with dismay, probably imagining the havoc it would wreak on her hair, but when she sensed he wasn’t going to relent on the topic, she placed it gingerly on her head. He smiled good-naturedly. “Excellent. Let’s go. I’ll show you what we’re doing.”

    S NEAKY MAN, SHE THOUGHT, tripping after him, her heels sinking in the soft, springy grass floor as they trudged up the mountain toward the sound of saws buzzing and men shouting above the din. She’d ended up sharing more than him and the whole point had been to get him to talk. She’d have to be more on her game. He wasn’t easily managed. She couldn’t just smile prettily and get him to gush all his secrets. She didn’t know why she thought it would be that easy. He wanted something for his information, as evidenced by his bargain. Within minutes, sweat trickled between the valley of her breasts and she was breathing heavily. “How much farther?” she asked, wobbling on her heels. “I didn’t exactly wear the right hiking attire, as you can see.”
    “Not far,” he assured her, holding out his hand as she nearly toppled over. She hesitated, but it seemed like good sense if she didn’t want to fall on her tush for the sake of her pride. She accepted his hand and swallowed a gasp as a wild, arcing thrill chased her nerve endings and ignited her senses in a totally unfortunate way. She swallowed and avoided his gaze, afraid she might see that he knew she’d had some kind of reaction to his touch. She needn’t have worried, though, he seemed focused on the climb and not on the fact that they were holding hands.
    They reached the top of the ridge and Owen pointed, saying, “There’s my crew. Right on schedule.” He noted her heavy breathing and he lifted a brow at her. “You okay?”
    “Fine,” she wheezed, holding her side. Traversing the uneven terrain was far more of a workout than the mountain-hike simulation on her treadmill, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Owen. “Like I said, I wasn’t prepared to go hiking today. I would’ve been more properly dressed if I’d known.” With that, she sent him a dark glower, clearly communicating that she knew he’d done this on purpose to put her off but he accepted her answer and, to her surprise, he started to explain what was going on. “You see over there, the timber fallers went through a few months ago and cut the trees that were marked by the forester; the skidder readies the timber for the helicopter, which is coming later this afternoon out of Oregon. That’s some precision work. If you’ve never seen heli-logging, you’re missing out. Did you know back in the day they used to haul the wood out using something called a steam donkey? I have an old black-and-white picture of one back at the office I could show you. Logging’s come a long way since the days of clear cutting.”
    “Which was outlawed in the Santa Cruz mountains in ’72,” she murmured, coaxing a begrudging smile from Owen with her knowledge. She knew what he was doing, trying to feed her positive PR on the logging industry. What he didn’t seem to realize was that she already knew how logging had changed and contrary to what he believed, she wasn’t the enemy. Besides, she had her eye on a