Secrets Rising - Suzanne Mcminn Haven

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farmhouse had shifted off-kilter more years ago than she knew about—and grabbed the handle. The carved wooden door swung inward, revealing a broad-shouldered figure, his profile shadowed on the porch overhang in the storm-darkened afternoon. Rain splattered down behind the man, puddles already forming in the yard. A very late model, very expensive-looking, very not-often-seen-around-these-parts sports car was pulled over and parked under the old oak by the cracked and crumbling concrete walk leading up to the house.

      She found herself looking into the deepest green eyes she’d ever seen, fringed with incredible lashes. Near-black hair, on the long side, was plastered to his head, fanning the collar of his T-shirt. He hadn’t escaped the burst of rain before he’d made it onto her porch.

      “Keely Schiffer?”

      He looked—and sounded—a little tense, even angry. Stubble shadowed his strong, well-defined jaw. He was dressed casually in faded jeans with a rip in one knee and a black tee under a leather bomber jacket, but there was nothing laid-back about his hard-edged demeanor.

      He looked dangerous. And not in a good mood.

      A shiver rippled up her spine and she couldn’t decide if it was trepidation or, shockingly, attraction.

      “Yes?” And you are—

      “Jake Malloy,” he said without her having to voice that question. “I was up at the Foodway and they said you hadn’t left the keys to the Evans house. I was under the impression they would be there for me to pick up. Today.”

      Now she knew why he was mad. She’d set up the rental last week when he’d called. It was her fault for forgetting to leave the keys as arranged. And very out of character.

      “Spring fever must have taken over my brain. I’m so sorry—”

      He cut off her attempt at apology. “And I’m wet, miles out of my way, and I have other things to do. Do you have the keys?”

      Well, now they had established that he was an ass. Good thing she hadn’t noticed that he was also heartthrob material, especially since she was all done with men anyway. Not that she didn’t like men. She liked plenty of males, mostly the ones who were related to her and were under the age of twelve. And yet she found herself remembering that she probably had dirt smeared on her face and she definitely had dirt on her jeans and the bright-yellow Haven Honeybees high school booster club T-shirt she was wearing.

      He was probably six foot two, which had the effect of making her feel unusually feminine and petite at her five foot eight. That’s all it was. And there was that bad-boy heartthrob thing, of course, that made her think of mindless sex.

      Mindless sex with a stranger. Hot and raw and wild. One fantasy before she died.

      Her pulse raced a little. Stop it, she warned herself. Really, she didn’t even like him so far and she was thinking about having sex with him? Was she losing her mind? She had enough problems at the moment without making any new ones up.

      Like, that skull in her rose bed….

      “I’m sorry,” she repeated. He could be rude; she couldn’t. She had exactly two ways to earn money since Ray died—she’d taken over the small Foodway store in town he’d made the monumental mistake and command decision to mortgage her inheritance against, and she also handled local leasing properties as a sideline. Well, she let one of the neighbors run cattle on the farm and put up hay twice a year. But that didn’t cut it, with the farm slipping through her fingers because of the store’s sliding profit margin since the big warehouse-style grocery outlet had opened in the next town over last summer. “I have the keys. I forgot to leave them up at the store. I’ll get them. It’ll just take a sec.”

      She left him standing there and ran back to the kitchen. “So what kind of work do you do?” she called back to him through the screen. She’d left the main door open. Maybe he couldn’t hear her over the rain lashing down, but he didn’t answer. She remembered asking him why he was coming to Haven when he’d arranged the lease. He’d changed the subject then. And now—

      The keys were on a hook on the wall with a little paper tag that read Evans. The rental house was, in fact, straight across the road from the Foodway, so no doubt he was extra annoyed that he’d had to drive all the way out in the country to find her. Or he was just an impatient ass and if he wasn’t pissed off about one thing, he’d be pissed off about another.

      She headed back to the door. “What brings you to Haven?”

      “Business,” he said briefly.

      “What kind of business?” Did she really want to know or was she just being passive-aggressive at this point? She wasn’t really sure. He didn’t want to tell her anything, she was sure of that.

      “I need to get going if you’ve got those keys.”

      She felt as if he’d smacked her hand. And maybe she just didn’t really want him to go, even if he was an ass. She’d be alone again, just her and that skull and Ray’s gift from the grave.

      “Here you go.” She leaned out between the doorjamb and the screen door just enough to pass him the keys. Their fingers brushed oh-so-briefly and she told herself to ignore the crackle of waking female libido that had no place in her life.

      He was good-looking—so what? Good-looking and a little secretive. Even if she was interested in dating, which she was not, she’d had enough of the mysterious type. And he was surly to boot. And really, maybe he was a criminal. Drug activity had leaked out of the city, into rural communities. Maybe he was a thug. He certainly looked like one.

      “My phone’s out,” she went on. “So if you tried to call from the store—” Not that she would have been able to drive the keys up there anyway since she didn’t have her truck.

      “Thanks for the keys.” He didn’t sound like he meant that and he was already turning away.

      “Wait!” Keely bit her lip. How was she supposed to say this? “My phone is out, like I said, and my truck is in the shop—”

      He stood there, still looking annoyed and impatient. Mr. Tall, Dark and Pissed Off didn’t look helpful, and she really didn’t want to tell this stranger why she needed to get the authorities out to her farm. I think my husband might have buried a body out back…. No. Not saying that.

      “Never mind,” she finished. “I hope you enjoy the house. You know what they say about Haven—it’s just one letter short of Heaven.” She gave him a polite smile that he didn’t return. Jerk. She still didn’t like him leaving, though.

      She let the screen door shut. Alone again, just her and the dead body out back. The man turned to step off the porch.

      Did it really matter if she contacted the police today? Her phone would be back, eventually. Or her truck would.

      The skull and whatever else that went along with it in the garden wasn’t going anywhere…. Not that this was a particularly comforting thought. She was just going to have to be a grown-up about the situation. She didn’t need a man to take care of her, or so she’d decided. That meant handling anything that came her way.

      Another huge gust swept down the mountain hollow and a crack tore the air, followed by a loud smack. And she realized Mr. Tall, Dark and Pissed Off wasn’t going anywhere, either.

      Not unless he was Superman and could pick an entire oak tree off his very expensive and probably very totalled car.

      Chapter 2

      He couldn’t believe his eyes. The car was going to be a complete loss.

      Sort of like his day so far. And most of the past several months.

      Jake Malloy tore his stunned gaze from the mangled vehicle and glanced back at the woman banging out the doorway of the farmhouse in that eye-popping yellow T-shirt of hers. Shoulder-length gold hair framed her suddenly pale face, making her milk-chocolate eyes stand out all the more.

      She was sexy

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