Chapter 1

1

NIKKI

" M y 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 study we'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 Harper is 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 pink are 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 a fabulous time!"

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.

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 from the 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."

"And you're beautiful." He stares straight into my eyes, as if that's a totally normal thing to say to a stranger.

No witty comebacks pop into my shocked brain, so I simply murmur, "Um, thank you."

"You're welcome." He straightens up. "In fact, I think I should call James back and have you arrested for being so pretty. Honestly, it's going to mess up the tourists. They come here for the gorgeous forests. They see a sight as breathtaking as you, they're gonna get all confused."

I sputter a laugh. "Are you for real?"

He shrugs those huge shoulders, barely contained in a gray t-shirt featuring a faded white emblem of a vintage Route 66 oil can. Pointing to his shirt, I ask, "So, you're a car guy?"

"Yeah. Matter of fact, I have three of them you can choose from when I pick you up tomorrow night."

Oh my… he's asking me out? A rush of heat surges through my stomach. I'm shocked. It feels like…like I've been chosen, somehow. Come on, Nikki, hold it together. "If that's your way of asking me out, I'm very flattered. But I don't date. Sorry."

He cocks his head, then sets the bag on the roof of the car. "No more cookies until you tell me why." Gently picking up my hand, he examines my ring finger. His touch sends a rush of tingling sparks through the back of my shoulders.

"Apparently not married." He peers intently at my face. "Looks pretty healthy, so no medical emergencies. Course, I'd need to see the teeth to be sure…"

"Stop it." I try to glare at him but end up giggling. "There's nothing wrong with me. I just don't date."

"Hmm." His fingers drum on the roof for a minute, then he straightens up and grabs the bag. "Okay. Want a few more cookies for the road?"

I take another one. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Have a great night, Nikki." He turns and walks away, and my gaze drags down his broad, well-muscled back. He is shockingly sexy, and so casual. It makes him even sexier.

A man that actually takes no for an answer, and is polite about it? Well, damn. For a split second, that actually makes me want to break my rule.

For a guy that stunningly gorgeous, I might consider bending it.

Just a fraction.