Page 12 of A Bear's Secret

But even then, why drug him and leave the syringe? Why leave his body out, dressed in that bright blue jacket, where someone could find him so easily?

“The syringe is the worst part,” she said, a shiver passing through her body. It made her nipples hard, and they stood out beneath the t-shirt she was wearing. Sloane crossed her arms, trying to do it casually, as she hoped that Austin couldn’t tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra. “It’s that one creepy detail that throws everything else under suspicion, you know?”

Austin nodded.

“People die hiking sometimes, from heart conditions and dehydration and all that stuff,” he said. “Why leave the syringe in, even if the attacker assumed he’d die?”

“Maybe they were banking on animals coming along and... doing their thing,” Sloane said, slowly. By doing their thing she meant eating a dead body, but it felt horrible to actually say that out loud. Even though, living and working on a ranch, she was certain that Austin had seen his fair share of animal-related stuff.

“The cops were asking me whether Long Prairie had a drug problem this afternoon,” Austin said. “And, I mean, there’s meth around, but I don’t know that people go into the woods and shoot up in their necks,” he said.

“He didn’t look like a junkie,” Sloane said. “That jacket he was wearing was an expensive jacket. I know people can hide their addictions, but if you’re shooting up into your neck...”

She let her words trail off, not having to say the rest: if you’re to the point where you’re shooting up into your neck, you’re probably also not hiking in North Face gear.

Austin just nodded, and Sloane was glad that he was following her. Even if she was kind of a macabre weirdo sometimes — back in Seattle, she owned several volumes of the Death In National Parks series and had read about every single person to die hiking the Pacific Crest Trail — she didn’t necessarily want the cute shifter cowboy figuring that out.

The cute cowboy shifter could be the one who attacked the kid, she thought.

She didn’t take the thought seriously, though. Even though she barely knew Austin — hell, she didn’t know his last name, and for most of their brief acquaintance she’d assumed he was a wolf — he just didn’t have that vibe. He seemed kind and warm, and if she was being honest, the half-teasing, half-flirting way they talked about whether the kid had been a junkie was kind of getting to her.

Austin took one more cookie, then looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly eleven, and he yawned, as if on cue.

“I ought to get to bed,” he said, standing and stretching. “Gotta get up early for ranch work, you know.”

“What time is breakfast, usually?” Sloane asked.

“Not much later than six, though Barb usually has mercy on the hikers and she’ll keep your biscuits warm until six-thirty or so,” Austin said, his eyes crinkling in a smile.

“As long as it’s after sunrise, I’m good,” Sloane said.

She brushed crumbs off of her shirt, then remembered that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and crossed her arms again.

“See you there,” Austin said, and walked away.

You could follow him, Sloane thought. She imagined herself leaning in the doorway of his bedroom, wearing his boss’s t-shirt and floral skirt and saying something sexy, like I bet you could use you company or Ride a cowboy, save a horse.

Watching him walk away, she blushed, though she didn’t take her eyes off of his butt in his jeans.

Then she ate another cookie.

They were really, really good.

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