Page 16 of Riding the Sugar High

How am I supposed to know?! “Before?”

With an eye roll, he stands and walks to the piglets. He gives them both a cuddle, and then he’s out of the room. Unsure of what to do, I follow after him.

The light in the kitchen is on, and as I walk closer, I find Logan reaching into a cupboard and pulling out a white mug. “Tea?” When I nod, he mumbles, “Maybe I should get you some Valium to go with it.”

I sit at the old kitchen table, tapping my fingers on my leg and wondering how he’s so calm. It must mean he’s broken the law before, right? Because I’m pretty sure my reaction is perfectly normal. And now that I think about it, Josie said it’s not the first time someone stole Derek’s animals.

“Do you do this a lot?”

He cocks a brow at me. “This?”

“Just...burglary?”

With a wide smirk that turns into a chuckle, he nods. “Now and then.”

I can’t tell if he’s serious, so I bite the inside of my cheek and look out the window.

“Doyouoften?—”

“I’m not a fricking arsonist, okay?”

He sets the kettle on a burner and turns with his back to the yellow counter, arms crossed. “That’s not how the police will see it, though. All they know is that you trespassed in the middle of the night, set his property on fire, then escaped and lied about it.”

“It was an accident. I wanted to talk to him.”

He hums as if he doesn’t believe me. “Irrelevant.”

“Look, I can’t go to prison, okay?” I know Logan will eventually find out what’s been happening between Derek and me, and trying to convince him tonight was just an accident will be impossible. “It’s an important moment for my career, and everything’s already falling apart, and I can’t...” I shake my head, eyes fiercely stuck on his. “I can’t go to prison.”

“Do what I say, and you won’t.” He points a thumb behind him. “Starting with, drink this tea, go to bed, and let me sleep.”

Rude.

“Why did you take those pigs?”

“Because he was going to kill them.”

At this point, I’d accept pretty much any excuse to hate Derek some more, but a farmer killing pigs is hardly newsworthy. “And?”

His jaw is set as his eyes turn darker. Somewhere in the periphery, the kettle begins a low hiss. “And?”

“I mean—aren’t you a farmer too?”

“Andhe weaned them before it was time,” he mumbles, then must notice it means nearly nothing to me, because he continues. “If piglets are separated from the sow too early, the changes in feed and environment will harm their development.” He fills the cups with water. “Those pigs were going to become bacon one day. At the very least, they deserved to live their life without any added stress. Don’t you think?”

“Sure,” I whisper. I can’t say that I’ve ever thought about pigs’ well-being a whole lot, but when he puts it that way, it’s hard to argue against it. “Then why did he do it?”

“Because he’s a cheap asshole who cuts corners, takes what he wants, and doesn’t care who or what gets hurt in the process.” Looking over his shoulder, he holds the tea bags over the cups. “Sound familiar?”

Awfully so.

“Look, there’s going to be an investigation, but they have nothing on us.”

“Except for the piglets. What about them?”

“No one will find the piglets.”

I chew my nails. I’m not a huge fan of farm animals, and if I could go the rest of my life without touching another pig, that’d be great. But thinking of those two tiny things becoming someone’s lunch is almost sickening. “What will you do with them?”

---