“I always miss you, but that’s not why I’m calling. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Yeah, I’m just sitting in Golden Gate Park and watching hot, shirtless dudes do calisthenics.” She sighs. “God, I love San Francisco.”
“Living your best life, huh?”
“You know it, babe. What’s up?”
Del left Darkwater Hollow two years ago, but she’s better than me at staying on top of all the town gossip. And right now, I need all the intel I can get.
“Did Aunt Lottie mention anything to you about Rowan Miller moving someplace new?”
“Mr. Handy Hero?” Del giggles at the name of Rowan’s construction company. “Based on what Aunt Lottie tells me, I wouldn’t mind if he got those hands on me.”
“Gross. God knows where they’ve been. What exactly did she tell you?”
“Why the sudden interest in the newest local eye candy? Have you finally decided to heed my advice and start dating again?”
“Definitely not.” After what happened with Brett, the thought of dating makes me want to hurl. “I think Rowan is moving in next door.”
Del gasps. “Into that dump?Why?”
“That’s what I want to know. No sane person would choose to live there.” The last tenants the Jacksons had were definitelynotsane. They were the worst. They kept my mom and me up all night with their loud parties, left beer bottles and litter all over their front yard, and they even broke the fence between our properties. Of course, the Jacksons still haven’t gotten around to repairing it, and I’m not holding my breath they ever will.
I don’t need a repeat of that, especially now that I’m trying to sell my house. The neighbor across from me, the one who blasts heavy metal early in the morning while I’m trying to sleep, is bad enough. When my agent came by last week, we could barely speak over the racket.
“The rent must be cheap, but I heard Rowan is doing well for himself. Did I tell you Aunt Lottie’s thinking of renovating her whole kitchen now? This is after Rowan promised he’d come and check on things himself.”
I roll my eyes again. “Of course he did. What else has she told you about him?”
“She mostly fawned about how handsome he is. Want me to call her for some real info?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay, I’ll call you back in five. Actually, make that fifteen. You know she loves to talk.”
We hang up. Aunt Lottie is Del’s aunt in name only. She’s an eighty-something-year-old gossip who taught Del and me all through grade school, and the two of them have kept in touch.
I glance back out the window. Rowan left the front door cracked open. Maybe once he sees the state of the place, he’ll change his mind about renting it. The Jacksons haven’t done anything to it in decades.
When he doesn’t come out for a few minutes, I pick my book back up, but I’m so rattled that I just reread the same two sentences over and over again.
Books have always been an escape for me, a reliable way to forget about my problems for a few blissful hours. But apparently, even a good story is no match for this level of disturbance.
Ugh. There goes my plan of a nice, peaceful evening. I won’t be able to focus until Del calls me back.
My phone buzzes five minutes later. “Aunt Lottie confirmed he’s slept with Gina Hardy, Penelope Nott, and Casey Smith,” Del says. “All give him glowing reviews in the bedroom.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ugh.” Why would anyone with an ounce of self-respect want to hook up with a guy the rest of the town’s slept with? Just to be another notch on the bedpost? It defies comprehension.
“And there’s a shocking rumor going around that even Aunt Lottie was reluctant to share.”
“But you got it out of her.”
“Of course I did,” Del says gleefully. “Apparently, two weeks ago, Rowan slept with Abigail MacDonald.”
“Abigail MacDonald… Isn't she married to the owner of the bakery?”
“Yes! That’s why it’s so hush-hush. Apparently, someone saw them getting very cozy at a bar.”
