Page 9 of Dirty Rumors

Her light laugh sounds like sunshine dancing. “I really did enjoy the truck picnic. That was fun.”

“Amazing. I’m glad.” Leaning in, I string a trail of kisses from her temple to the bottom of her ear, then nibble it slightly. “I’ve already stolen one good night kiss. But you’re gorgeous. And apparently I’m an evil, rotten man, who has no impulse control.”

Her lovely eyes glow in the amber light from the porch lamp. “It seems like all my impulse control is gone as well. MaybeI’ve got too much oxygen pumping through my veins from all of this.” She waves her hand toward the trees. “This much nature is completely unnatural to me.”

“But you love it, don’t you, Special Agent City Girl?”

She grins, showing off perfect white teeth and a sparkle in her eye. “You know what? I really do.”

A thrill runs straight up my spine as she leans in, initiating the kiss this time. Her fingers grip the back of my neck, pulling my mouth exactly where she wants it. I love that she wants to kiss me hard and deep like this. That she’s giving in to this strange force between us. It feels…predestined.

My hands squeeze her hips gently, and she makes another breathy, maybe unconscious sigh against my mouth. My God, her lips are so soft. She feels so warm and delicate against me.

Every protective instinct I’ve ever had kicks into high gear. Nikki is mine. We belong together. She’s the woman I’ve been searching for. I know this as certainly as I know how to rebuild an engine that’s been shaken apart by mountain roads for twenty years.

I just have to get to know Nikki better. Then I can truly be the man she needs.

She pulls away cautiously. “I should get inside.”

I pull her close in a quick, gentle hug. “When you dream about me tonight, picture me in my navy button-down shirt. It’s the one I get the most compliments on.”

She sputters a laugh, and I steal one last quick kiss. Then I take her by the shoulders, spin her around, and march her firmly toward the front door. “Back to your real life, kitten. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Nikki tosses her hair and throws a wink back at me before going in.

For “not a first date”, that could not have gone better.

5

NIKKI

I’ve always loved doing research. But by the second week of taking notes about people’s conversations, it’s getting a bit boring, even for me.

Although the people of Old Hemlock Valley are now so used to seeing us around that they don’t clam up around us as much anymore. The fact that Harper is dating Griffin probably makes us “one of them” a bit, too, so people feel they can let their guard down more.

Corina’s Coffee has become my favorite place to write down conversation fragments. My notebooks are spread around a bit, so it looks like I’m studying.

Two older ladies come into the shop, nodding to everyone, and I’m pleased to see they include me. I give them a bright smile, then drop my head as if I’m not paying attention to anything but my work.

Sure enough, once they have their coffees and are seated in the booth next to mine, they start chatting openly, clearly within hearing range of the customers at the counter. At first, it’s the usual topics — weather, how their families are doing, how their husbands are faring at work.

“Did your ever get your car fixed?” the lady with tight brown curls asks.

“Oh, yes.” Her friend, with long blonde hair swept up casually in a messy bun, flashes a saucy smile. “You know I love my husband. But getting an eyeful of those Dirty boys when I go to pick up the car is always a treat.”

Brown Curls laughs. “Yeah, I took mine to Walker for a tuneup last month. I mean…those biceps!”

“And the youngest one. Griffin. Theshoulderson him.” The blonde fans herself dramatically.

“Have you ever heard anything odd about the middle one?”

I try not to lean in as much as the blonde does. “You mean those rumors about how Carson is…” Her eyes flick to the counter, but the people there aren’t paying any attention. “Always at the post office?”

Brown Curls nods, sipping her coffee. “Marla works there. He’s always getting little packages and sending away bigger ones. What could that be about?”

“Well, you know the stories about his grandpa, Shane. He was always mailing things.”

“Really?”

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