Divulging Secrets

by Lynn Burke

  My phone rang as I toweled off.

  Charlie’s name came up, and I swiped to answer. “Hey.”

  “Morning,” he grumbled.

  “Sounds like you need some coffee,” I said, picking my own up off the small vanity.

  “Just calling to check in with you, see if you need anything.”

  I swigged and put the cup back down. “Nope.”

  “Enjoying the independence your car is giving you?”

  “More than you know.” I peered at my face in the fogged mirror. Drowned rat.

  “I’m actually missing your company,” he said.

  I wasn’t missing his or his borderline suggestive glances. I ignored him.

  “Picked up one of those darker romance books you love. Gotta say”—he chuckled—“had me thinking all kinds of naughty thoughts.”

  A shudder rippled down through me, and not the pussy-tingling kind. “Look, Charlie, I’m not interested, so cut the shit before you piss me off.”

  “Lighten up, little girl.”

  A fucking pet name. Just lovely. Perhaps it was time to let Danny in on the fact his partner loved to come on to me. “So what’s up?” I asked, my voice deadpan.

  “I got news on your father.”

  My heartbeat stumbled as memories flooded my head, sending an ache through my chest and ripping all thoughts of Charlie’s harassment from my mind. “Is he okay?”

  “They put him in solitary confinement.”

  “Did someone try to kill him?”

  “No.” Charlie paused. “Your father tried to strangle his cell mate.”

  “What? No way in hell! Papa wouldn’t even use the fly swatter!”

  Charlie sighed loudly in my ear. “They’re doing a full investigation—”

  “I’ll bet his cell mate attacked him first.”

  I got no response.

  “I … I’ve got to get going,” I heard myself saying through the ringing in my ears.

  “You okay?”

  “Uh huh. Yeah.”

  “Danny and I will be by tomorrow.”

  “Don’t bother.” I cleared my throat. “I’m going job hunting.”

  “Oh. Well, glad to hear it.” He didn’t sound too glad I’d brushed off a visit from him. “Best of luck.”

  I hung up without another word, grabbed my coffee, and headed up the stairs, leaving a trail of wet footprints in my wake.

  Everything I’d known—a lie. Everything.

  ****

  Stocking shelves, waiting tables, or childcare.

  I sat in my car, forehead on my steering wheel, giving over to the idea that I needed to move on from Crooked Fence Farm.

  “Goddammit,” I growled, turning my car on.

  Adrenaline still pumped through my system from having gone into town without Charlie or Danny. Every shadowy or shifty figure jump-started my heartbeat into double time, and my hands still shook.

  I need to get the hell out of here.

  I’d never been an impulsive person, but I found myself hopping on the highway and headed toward Portland ten minutes later. In the right lane, slow and easy, the radio turned off and AC on low. My ears rang, the silence disturbed by big rigs and trucks cruising past me.

  Like a gaping wound, emptiness sucked at my life, trying to drag me down into the depths of nothing. Darkness. Despair. My throat ached with tears I fought to contain. My mind swarmed with woe-is-me worries.

  On auto pilot, I rolled along, not paying attention to my surroundings.

  I had nothing to live for. Nothing to love. No friends, only unknown enemies who would love to see me buried out in the deep woods where no one would ever find me.

  Lila had been a blip on the radar of humanity, leaving nothing behind. Nothing of note other than turning against her father.

  I found myself pulling off an exit in Portland, aimlessly driving down one road after another. No destination in mind.

  Devon’s Liquors on a bright orange sign drew my gaze to the building beyond. New and sprawling … surely they’d have some decent wine.

  A bell tinkled as I walked into the air-conditioned store. Shelves and aisles lined with glass bottles drew me forward. France, Argentina, Australia … Italy.

  Bingo.

  I actually smiled at the selection and went back to the entrance for a basket.

  “Something tells me you like your Italian wine,” the young cashier said as I hefted my filled basket onto the counter. His dark eyes smiled along with his lips, and I found myself smiling back.

  “It’s even better if you’re actually sitting in Tuscany while sipping it,” I said and pulled a bottle out.

  He chuckled and scanned the bottle while I emptied the basket. “I wouldn’t know. Never been out of the U.S.”

  “I prefer France,” I said, still smiling, “but Italy’s vineyards always draw me back.”

  Always drew me back, I thought, my lips flat-lining.

  “I’ve always wanted to go overseas.” He shrugged. “Maybe someday I’ll get there.”

  I paid in cash and started toward the door, my arms loaded with brown bags.

  “I’ll get that for ya,” the young man said, hurrying around the counter. “Have a good one,” he said, stepping out into the sun to hold the door for me.

  I forced a smile past the thickness in my throat. “Save your pennies. Take that trip to Italy someday.”

  “I will.” One last flashed smile, and he returned to work, leaving me alone.

  Just don’t offer to carry something back home for a friend of your father’s, I thought, my fake smile dissolving.

  Heat shimmered up from the parking lot pavement, baking the bottoms of my sandals. A gentle breeze teased at my hair, cooling my warming skin.

  An older woman climbed from her car and smiled at me while shuffling past. “Good morning,” she said, leaning on her cane.

  I had to put down some bags in order to unlock my car and open the door, but a few minutes later, I still sat in the parking lot, my car’s AC blasting. Glancing around, I noted the decent-enough community. Nothing like where I’d grown up, nothing like the farm, but homey enough.

  A dark sedan parked in the opposite aisle caught my attention, and I stared at the dented hood. I’d seen that car… Brow furrowing and pulse jumping, I fought to remember where, my mind racing.

  In the rearview mirror while I’d been on the highway.

  Shit.

  My head whipped around, and I studied the parking lot even though I didn’t know who I looked for. No one stood out. No one seemed to be paying any attention to me. I returned my gaze to the sedan.

  It sat empty, baking in the heat same as my car.

  Hands shaking, I put the car into “reverse” and made my way out of the parking lot, my gaze flitting to the rearview mirror at the still-parked sedan until I turned out of sight. Eventually, I calmed and decided to drive around a bit. Two hours passed as I familiarized myself with Portland, my growling stomach letting me know I’d missed lunch.

  I hated all things fast food, but grabbed a burger because I couldn’t handle the thought of going into a restaurant by myself. Too many people to stare and wonder why the dark-haired woman dined alone.

  Another two hours found me pulling into Tom’s driveway, and I put down my windows, breathing in the scents of the farm. Underlying shit from the animals, but the abundance of flowers coated the stench.

  Quietness crept into my heart and mind. As I put my car in “park”, the clucks, buzzes, and occasional bleat of a goat—and Archie approaching with maddening noise—made me realize that I didn’t want to find another place. Portland had seemed a great, friendly place to start a new life, but it didn’t bring me the peace the farm did.

  I climbed from the car and grabbed a couple of brown bags filled with the prizes I’d found as Archie sidled up to me. “Hey, bird,” I said, stepping around him.

  He followed me to the stoop as usual and stopped when I went in to set the bags on the table.

&
nbsp; “Sorry, no treats,” I said, bending to pet his feathered head once I returned. “I’ll grab some from the store next week, okay?”

  He stretched out his neck and closed his eyes. If beaks could bend, he’d have been smiling ear to ear.

  I found myself smiling while standing.

  “Candace.”

  Tom approached, hands in his jeans pockets, a ball cap pulled low on his brow.

  My heart fluttered, but I tore my gaze off his broad shoulders and thick pecs molded by the gray t-shirt. “Hey,” I said, grabbing the other bags of wine off my back seat.

  “Need any help?”

  “I got it. Thanks.” I turned without looking at him, but his footsteps followed along behind me.

  “You were gone so long I started to worry.”

  “Drove into Portland to check it out.”

  “Thinking about moving there?”

  I walked into my rental without answering, and Tom hesitated in the doorway. “Come on in,” I said, heading into the kitchen. “I’ve been thinking about getting my own place.” I shrugged and pulled a couple of bottles from the bags. “But I don’t know where to go or what to do.”

  “Maybe finding a job you’d like first would help you decide where to go.”

  I turned and faced him, and the warmth in his green eyes twisted that damn ache in my chest again. “There’s nothing available around here. That’s why I went to Portland.”

  He peered at me, and my breathing sounded loud in my ears. “I hope you’re not wanting to rush out of here because of last night.”

  My mouth opened, but I shut it again and shrugged.

  “I’m sorry.” Tom took off his ball cap and ran a hand through his wavy locks. “I shouldn’t have made a move on you. You’ve got enough shit going on and don’t need me getting all over your ass.”

  The image of him getting all over my ass wet my panties with a gush of arousal I’d never experienced before—and I was no innocent. My breath caught and I stared up at him, body thrumming. Needy.

  Tom’s gaze narrowed as he studied my face, his gaze dipping to my parted lips, to the throbbing heartbeat in my neck. His focus returned to my eyes, and my damn knees nearly buckled at the same want in his.

  “I really hope you’ll stay,” he whispered.

  “I-I do like it here.”

  His slow grin sent another rush of heat through me. “Glad to hear it.” He tugged his hat back on and left me standing there, turned on.

  And alone.

  Chapter Six

  Tom

  Candace avoided me. She rarely left the rental, and when she did, it was usually to climb in her car and leave for a few hours. Sometimes she returned with groceries, other times empty handed.

  I wondered how she filled her time, what kept her busy as life slowly passed by. Two weeks, and she didn’t speak to me. Didn’t look my way, but I kept an eye on her. Every night, she sat on the window seat of her bedroom and read.

  Did she know I sat in my living room and watched her, my TV droning in the background while I imagined dancing with her beneath the stars again? If she knew my thoughts about her lips, her full breasts, and that ass…

  I groaned and clicked my TV off. Candace still sat reading in the soft glow of a nearby lamp, her dark head bent over her e-reader.

  Adjusting my hard-on, I tore my gaze from her and got up to turn the light off.

  Her head lifted, and she turned toward her open window.

  She must have seen me since my blinds remained open, along with my own window.

  I couldn’t make out her eyes, but neither of us moved. Drawn like a moth to her flame, my body ached to stride the distance between us and combust with her in a rush of heat.

  Candace slid off her perch and disappeared from the window. Seconds later, the light turned off, shutting me out.

  ****

  I shut off the shower and climbed out, grabbing my towel.

  Archie announced an unexpected afternoon visitor, and I quickly pulled on lounge pants without drying off and made my way downstairs to the front window.

  Candace stopped at the end of my walkway and bent over to pet the rooster’s head, giving me a nice side view of her round ass.

  Thankful I’d just jerked off to thoughts of that ass, I opened the door. “Come on in.”

  She lifted her head, caught sight of my soaked upper body, and quickly looked back at Archie and his stretched out neck beneath her fingertips. “I … uh, I can come back later. Just wondered if you had any brown sugar.”

  “In the kitchen,” I said, pulling the door open wider and turning.

  Her unsteady deep breath reached my ears, and I grinned as her flip flops sounded across my wood flooring behind me.

  I grabbed a container and the bag of sugar from a cabinet. “How much do you need?” I asked without turning.

  “Half cup.”

  I tapped the bag, eye balling the amount to about that much in the bottom of the container as her sweet perfume clouded my brain. “Can I ask what you’re making?”

  “Chocolate chip cookies. Didn’t know I would need brown sugar along with the white.”

  My mouth salivated, but for a whole different reason. “My favorite.”

  “I’ll bring you some,” she said with a husky laugh that my cock appreciated. “If I don’t burn them.”

  “Bake them two to three minutes less than the recipe calls for, and you’ll be fine.” I turned, and she took the container from my outstretched hand, her gaze skipping down my chest and abs to the beginnings of a tent in my damp pants. She bit on her lower lip and glanced back toward the door as pink stained her cheeks.

  I leaned back against the counter and crossed my arms over my wet pecs, enjoying the sight of her nipples hardening beneath her shirt. “Want to go to the movies with me tonight?”

  “What”—she turned back to me, jerking my head up—“like on a date?”

  I shrugged, struggling to keep my attention on her face. “Doesn’t have to be. We can go as friends. I won’t even try to put my arm around you.”

  Her gaze flitted away again. “Sure. Why not.”

  “Six-thirty?”

  “Okay. Yeah.”

  I followed on her heels to the door, breathing in her sweet scent, my focus on her swaying ass.

  She tossed a wave over her shoulder and hurried past Archie. I stood in the doorway and watched her go. I wanted her like I hadn’t wanted a woman in a long time. Two lonely souls with obvious sexual tension between them … something had to give.

  ****

  I knocked on her door at six-thirty sharp and stuffed my hands in my jeans’ pockets.

  “I’m coming!” she hollered from inside.

  Shaking my head against the thoughts her words brought on, I told myself I should have jerked off again.

  Her door pulled open.

  “Sorry, time got away from me,” she said, her voice breathless as she slipped a purse over her shoulder. Her silky top plunged lower than any shirt I’d seen her wear, offering an eyeful of her generous cleavage. Tight jeans hugged her legs, and heeled boots added another inch or so to her height.

  “You look great,” I said, returning my attention to her face.

  I caught the heat in her eyes before she shifted her gaze away, but her flushed face revealed her thoughts. “Thanks.”

  We headed over to my car without another word while I dealt with the butterflies in my stomach.

  “So there’s actually a theater around here?” she asked as I pulled out onto the main road.

  “Over in Portland. How’d those cookies turn out?”

  “I burnt the first two pans.” Her light laugher didn’t sound forced or nervous. “The third I binged on, but there’s another two dozen left. Figured you could take some home after the movie.”

  Meaning I could walk her to her door. My mind raced way beyond, but I forced my focus on being present. “So.” I glanced over at her. “Found a job yet?”

  “Nothing of
interest is available around here.”

  “Well, if you need something now, I could put you to work.”

  She angled on the seat to face me. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

  “Help me with the lighter tasks around the farm. Caring for the chickens, gathering eggs, making soap, canning.”

  “I don’t know the first thing about any of those jobs.”

  I chuckled and glanced over at her again. “I’ll teach you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want me to work for you?”

  I returned my attention to the road. “Because the thought of you moving out and leaving the farm doesn’t sit well with me.”

  Candace didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Why?” she finally asked, that huskiness coating her voice again.

  “It’s no secret that I find you attractive, but it’s more than that.” Her brow furrowed as I met her gaze again. Time to throw out another secret—one that bothered the hell out of me. “You’ve tapped into the protective nature I thought disappeared the day Darah died.”

  There. Truth out in the open for us to dissect. Or ignore. Her choice.

  I entered the ramp to 95 South, forcing myself to keep quiet as she processed what I’d said.

  “From the way you spoke about her, I thought you were against getting involved with another woman ever again,” Candace finally said a few miles down the highway.

  “I was, but there’s something about you that I can’t ignore, a torturous pull on my mind and body that keeps me up at night.”

  More silence, and I fought not to tap my fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Torture is having everything you thought to be true ripped to shreds before your eyes,” Candace murmured. “It’s being so lonely that life doesn’t seem worth living. It’s longing for something, but not having the ability to trust a person ever again.”

  I swallowed back my disappointment even though I appreciated her honest words. “I don’t know what happened to bring you to this place in your life, Candace, but I understand the loneliness. The thoughts that life sometimes isn’t worth the effort.”