Page 1 of Dirty Rumors

1

NIKKI

“My Lord, have you ever seen one that big before?”

My head jerks up from my notebook to see two housewives admiring the huge papaya in one of their net shopping bags as they make their way from the grocery store to the bakery.

Snickering to myself, I dutifully write it down, hoping the comment isn’t taken out of context. I’ve had plenty of odd jobs, but this one is downright weird. But it’s still lovely. Sitting in the filtered sunlight under a large tree on the main street of a sweet small town, taking in the mellow weather and view of the mountains? Downright refreshing.

Hopefully it just looks like I’m jotting ideas down in a journal as I transcribe snippets of conversation I hear as anyone who walks past.

“Gus says it’s going to rain between midnight and four in the morning, which is perfect for my garden.”

“Let’s hope your carrots turn out as well as they did last year. Can I trade you again for some of my basil?”

It's kind of weird describing the women who have just walked by as “middle aged mom types”, but for the sake of this studywe’re supposed to characterize everyone in just a few broad strokes.

A “lumberjack guy” walks by with “probably his mother”.

“Are you going to go see Jonah about your sore wrist, dear? He’ll be in his clinic this afternoon.”

“Oh, I’m not going to bother one of the Wolfes with this. It’s fine.”

“Have you been putting ice on it?”

“At night, yes. But it’s really not…”

They drift out of earshot, and I turn the page. Wow. That lumberjack was kind of handsome, with his fairly broad shoulders and blue plaid shirt.

Which I should not be paying attention to.At all.

I’ve come to the conclusion that women make terrible decisions about partners if they attempt to choose one when they’re too young. They’re too inexperienced to know themselves. Until they’re around twenty-five they succumb to attraction, not logical decisions. Which means men are none of my concern for at least four more years.

My boss, Professor Hewitt, is going to have a ton of data from each small town where he’s sent interns – but I sometimes wonder if he’s going to get anything useful out of it. To be honest, these days I’m caring a little less about the study, and a lot more about this beautiful town where Harper, Jocelyn and I are staying.

It’s just so darn wholesome here. Friendly. The kind of place where everyone stops to chat. Even an outsider like me gets a smile and cheerful “good morning”. The kind of place where the bakery on Main is legit called The Bakery On Main and they sneak each kid an oatmeal cookie, winking that it’s “health food”.

People seem to be warming up to us now that we’ve been here a week and it’s gradually becoming known that Harperis already dating Griffin Dirty…yes, that’s his last name…from Valley Auto. Or maybe it’s just because they’ve heard through the grapevine that we’re staying for at least a month, unlike most tourists who only stay a few days.

The townspeople definitely have…reservations…about the tourists. It’s emerging as a theme in the fragments of conversation we’ve noted down as part of Professor Hewitt’s study to see if local news travels differently in small towns compared to cities. He is also exploring if there are different overall topics of conversation in different areas.

Whatever. It’s a relaxing summer job. And noting down conversations by hand definitely feels less creepy than planting microphones everywhere. The three of us have agreed that if anyone lowers their voice or leans in to speak quietly, we will stop writing. We aren’t spies, and we definitely don’t want to cross any lines, especially since everyone here has been so lovely.

My head jerks up when two older men walk into the coffee shop, but they don’t speak within earshot of me, so I just go back to doodling spirals in the margin of my notebook.

We’ve already crossed one line, sort of. One of the items of gossip that we’re tracking is whether people are speaking about Harper and Griffin’s brand-new relationship. I realize we’re probably not supposed to insert ourselves into the study, but what can I say? It just happened.

Honestly, I’m delighted for Harper, but I can’t help but feel a little…no, jealous isn’t the right word. It’s just that for the past few months I’ve genuinely been craving the company of a great guy. And I know that that has to wait at least four or five more years, but the way Griffin is so sweet with her pulls at something deep inside me. Longing? Curiosity? I’m not sure. Maybe.

A car stops right in front of me, and I look up to see Harper leaning out the passenger window. “Hey, I’m going to Griffin’s tonight.” She tends to blush easily, and two points of pinkare already forming on her cheeks. “Do you mind picking up Jocelyn and taking her home? I’m parked pretty much in front of Fran’s.”

“Sure – no problem.” She carefully tosses me the keys, and I reach to catch them. Just to make her blush some more, I give her a large wink. “Have afabuloustime!”

Griffin waves before they drive away, and I check the time on my phone. Screw it, I’m going to cut out a bit early today.

Strolling down the street, I see a man coming out of The Bakery On Main, and almost trip over my feet. He’s… Can you call a man beautiful when he’s that rugged? He’s much bigger than that lumberjack earlier, the one with his probably-mother. Wide shoulders, and a thick chest that seems to take up the entire sidewalk as he strides down the street. He’s tan, with thick, dark hair and piercing eyes?—

His chin jerks up as he looks at me, catching me staring. My eyes drop, and I dart down the street. I reach Harper’s car and fumble the keys when I try to open the door. Why are my hands shaking? One look from a gorgeous guy should not rattle me like this.

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