Secrets in a Small Town. Kimberly Meter Van

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СКАЧАТЬ line between two single adults with some kind of cockamamie romance theory. Rest your little brain, Chuck. I’m starting to see smoke.”

      Charlie’s face reddened and she bit back open laughter. It was just too easy with this guy.

      “If I find out you’re moonlighting behind the paper’s back, I’ll take great pleasure in ratting you out.”

      She kept her face implacable as she said, “I’m sure your uncle appreciates your loyalty.”

      “I am loyal,” he agreed, his gaze hardening. “Unlike some.”

      She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and instead, checked her watch. “Oh, look at the time. Gotta go. If you’ll excuse me, I have a lunch date scheduled.”

      She moved past Charlie, who was no doubt plotting her death. The irony was that if he managed to pull off the perfect murder, her obituary would end up on his desk and she wasn’t sure she felt comfortable with the idea of Charlie being in charge of her last words printed in the paper.

      The funny thing was, for once Charlie had hit the nail on the head, though he was far afield with that romance idea. She was on to something with Owen Garrett and, really, it had nothing to do with his logging operation. She was digging into a bigger, better, far juicer story than the environmental angle her parents were pushing her to pursue.

      And Owen Garrett was at the epicenter.

      Of course, he was oblivious to the part he was going to play in her master plan—the plan where she busted open a decades-old case involving Owen’s late father and, in the process, earned herself a spot among the greats in journalistic history. Now that she had him good and riled, when she pulled the bait and switch on him, he wouldn’t know what hit him. He’d be so grateful that she was dropping the logging angle, he’d likely tell her whatever she wanted to know about his father.

      Well, that’s how it played out in her head. Of course, her mother was fond of telling her that she had a terribly overactive imagination, which, coupled with her writing skills, would make her a terrific fiction writer. But she didn’t want to write fiction. She wanted to write the next big story. She wanted to rub elbows with the likes of Judith Miller of the New York Times and Dan Balz of the Washington Post.

      And Owen Garrett was going to make that possible.

      But first she had to choke down a tofu casserole with her parents, when what she really wanted was a triple-decker beef burger with all the trimmings over at Buns and Burgers. She tried not to drool at the thought and resigned herself to a lovely luncheon marred only by the prospect of the menu.

      CHAPTER TWO

      “I WANT TO SUE THE NEWSPAPER,” Owen growled to his lawyer, Scott Everhall. “She refuses to print a retraction without a court order, so let’s give her what she needs. I want to go to court.”

      “Calm down. Let’s talk this through,” Scott said as he grabbed a fresh tablet to take notes. “What’s got you so full of piss and vinegar?”

      “Piper Sunday,” he spat.

      “I read her stuff. She’s good,” Scott said, then quickly added when Owen gave him a dark look, “Well, I mean, as good as any small-town reporter, I guess. So what’s she said that’s upset you so much?”

      “She wrote that I’m going forward with the east mountain project with a flawed timber harvest plan, which basically points me out to be some kind of bull-headed jerk who doesn’t give a rip about the environment or the endangered fairy shrimp or whatever damn bug that’s in need of protecting.”

      “Well, you are going through with the project, right?” Scott asked for clarification.

      “I filed all the necessary paperwork and permits. I’m doing everything by the book. I was given clearance.”

      “Of course, but that’s not the point she’s making, right? You’re not going to win with her. You know who her parents are, right?”

      “No. Should I?”

      Scott chuckled. “Well, they’re only the king and queen of liberal politics, Coral and Jasper Sunday. They love to take on people like you. I can just imagine how they would enjoy vilifying a logger.”

      “This is bullshit,” Owen grumbled, raking his hand through his hair, feeling as if he were slipping deeper into a mud pit. “So what are you saying? I’ve got no recourse, because her parents are pushing an agenda and they’re using their daughter to get it done?”

      Scott shrugged. “I’m not saying anything. I’m just providing information.” He leaned forward and flicked imaginary lint from his desktop. “Here’s the thing— I’m your lawyer and your friend. As your lawyer, I can drag the newspaper into court and demand a retraction. But in the end, it’ll cost you more than it’s worth and, frankly, it’ll just make you look worse. Hell, maybe that’s what she’s hoping. Of course, as a lawyer billing you for my time, I’ll do whatever you feel is necessary. But as your friend, I say let it go. Don’t let this woman get under your skin. You’re not doing anything wrong, so stop letting her make you feel as if you have.”

      “Just let it go?” Owen repeated, not quite sure if he was able to do that, not while he was as mad as he was anyway.

      “Well, that’s my advice. But you do what you want. I surely won’t turn away your money if you’re feeling like throwing it down the toilet.”

      “I think I need a new lawyer,” Owen growled, but Scott knew he was just blowing steam and simply made a gesture as if to say “you can do what you want” before leaning back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. Finally, Owen gave it up. “Fine. I’ll let it go. But so help me, if I run into her on the streets, I might not be able to play nice.”

      Scott laughed. “Come on now…she’s not bad-looking, you know. You ought to play nice. The saying ‘you catch more flies with honey’ has a certain logic to it. You could do a lot worse.”

      Owen barked a short, mirthless laugh in response. “I’d rather bed down with a rattler than pretend to like her just to get her off my back.” With a wry dig at Scott, he added, “Some of us have standards.”

      “Suit yourself.” Scott smiled, the insult bouncing right off him without causing a scratch. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

      “No,” Owen answered sullenly, his blood still hot from his encounter with that wretched reporter. “I suppose not if you aren’t interested in helping me sue the newspaper.”

      “Perhaps another time,” Scott suggested with an amiable grin. “In the meantime, want to hit the links with me sometime?”

      Owen glowered. “I don’t golf. Stop asking.”

      “Stop being so stubborn. You might like it.”

      “No, thanks. I have work to do. You might try that sometime.”

      “I work. And you’ll have evidence of that as soon as you get my bill in the mail.”

      Billable hours. He swallowed a sharp retort. As the woman who raised him would say, he had a bee in his bonnet and he needed to chill out. “All right. I’m СКАЧАТЬ