Page 2 of Dirty Rumors

Somehow, I manage to open the driver’s side door, then get in and take a few deep breaths.

That was super weird.

I compose myself before texting Jocelyn.

Hey – coming to pick you up now.

Jocelyn: In the middle of some notes. 10 min?

OK.

A tap on my window has me clutching my heart and almost dropping the phone. It’s the big man. He’s carrying a bag fromthe bakery in one hand, the other stretched out to rest on the top of the car.

I open the window and look up at him with less than zero idea what to say. Being so close to him is making my heart thump so hard in my chest it’s like I’ve just run a mile.

“Hey.” His smile reveals perfect teeth to go with his impeccable jawline. Why are my eyes studying his face as if I were a photographer or something?

“Hey.” Not the most brilliant response, but my brain is suddenly running on fumes.

“Now, if I were a car thief,” he drawls, still leaning his forearm on the roof just above me, “I wouldn’t have picked this old thing.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is Harper’s car, right?” He’s grinning, his deep, warm eyes sending strange electricity zipping through me. “But you’re not Harper. Which means you’re stealing it.”

“Oh. She gave me the keys. I’m not a thief.”

He chuckles. “Of course not. Which means you must be one of her study gang or whatever you ladies are.”

“Yeah.”

He holds out his hand. “I’m Carson. Griffin’s older brother.”

A shudder runs through me at the touch of his warm, rough hand. There’s so much strength radiating from this man that I feel flustered. Worse, he can clearly tell. “Um. Nikki.”

“So, what are you ladies doing here, always taking notes in the middle of town?”

I shrug casually. “Oh, you know. Schoolwork.”

He lets out a rasping bass chuckle. “With all respect, that’s bullshit. Come on, you can tell me.”

“I really can’t. It’ll ruin the project.”

He scowls dramatically, but his eyes are still smiling. Opening the bag, he holds it out to me temptingly. “Not even for a raspberry thumbprint cookie?”

I stare at him, wide-eyed. “Listen, big man. I can’t risk my whole job for one of your bribery cookies.”

He leans casually on the side of the car, still holding out the open bag. “Fine. Have one anyway. They’re amazing.”

Before I can take one, a man in a police uniform walks past, grabbing two cookies out of the bag, and slapping Carson on the shoulder affably on the way by. “Thanks, Car.”

“You’re going to learn that James here is constantly hungry,” Carson laughs. He calls out to the officer’s back as the cop walks away, “And a true thief!”

I help myself to a cookie and am instantly transported. Spiced oatmeal with a generous thumbprint of fresh, sharp raspberry jam that isn’t overly sweet. As soon as I can speak without spewing crumbs, I murmur, “Amazing.”

“Yeah.” He stuffs a cookie into his mouth whole. “You can’t beat a genuine grandma recipe.”

“You’re right.”

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