Trading Secrets by Christine Flynn

Author:Christine Flynn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2005-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

Her original bag was almost gone by Saturday. By Sunday night she was down to two cookies and trying to figure out where to get more because the general store didn’t carry the chocolate-filled kind. She really needed another bag, too. She’d taken Greg’s advice and contacted Brent.

She wished now that she hadn’t.

Cellophane rattled as she started to pull out the next-to-the-last cookie, then changed her mind and left it. The way her life had been going lately, she’d best save what she had. It was always possible that something worse could happen.

Carefully folding the bag, she tucked it behind the cans of tuna and soup in the cabinet. Her stash was barely hidden before she turned around, listening.

Beneath the creaks and groans of the old house settling in for the night she heard the rumble of a vehicle coming up the drive.

She glanced down at her clothes, brushed at the front of her shirt. She had worked at the diner until four, then changed into her old gray sweats with the stretched-out neckline. For the past few hours she’d sat on the back porch, alternately blanking her mind as she listened to the crickets and the distant babble of the stream and sanding the rickety wood table and chairs she’d found in the storage shed out back. She needed a table in her kitchen.

Not caring to think about everything else she needed, she tried to imagine who would be coming to visit so late. It was nearly eight o’clock. Even in Maple Mountain people didn’t just drop by at that hour.

Her front porch light now worked. The doorbell didn’t.

Greg didn’t have a chance to knock, though, before he saw Jenny look from behind the oval of glass on the door.

He had debated for most of the two-and-a-half-hour drive from the airport about whether he should stop to check on her or wait until he saw her at the office to see how she was holding up.

He’d actually driven past the house with its muted glow of light from the porch and the kitchen window when he swore, hit the brakes and turned back.

The moment she opened the door, a smile sneaked into her eyes. “Are you just now getting back from Montpelier?”

“My flight was late.”

She stepped aside, tugging up the neck of her sweatshirt from where it slipped off one shoulder.

“You don’t have a phone,” he said, dragging his glance from where she’d just covered a delicate pink bra strap. “If you had, I would have just called.”

The light from the kitchen illuminated half of her face as she tipped her head. With her dark hair cut so short around her ears, the line of her neck looked as smooth as alabaster. “What for?”

Because I worry about you out here, he grudgingly admitted, despite having told himself a dozen times that she’d be fine. Much of the population of Maple Mountain had miles between them and their neighbors. There were miles between all the little villages and miles between many of the people who lived in them, too.

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