“Yep, the one and only. Both are spoiled rotten. That’s why I’m stuck in this booth, actually. The little princess has a dance recital,” he mutters.
“No way. You’re missing it,” I gasp.
He huffs. “My sister records every second. Don’t fret.”
I flutter a palm to my chest in dramatic flair. “Thank goodness.”
Reeve glares at me. “I’ll make sure to send you a copy.”
“Sounds familiar.” I laugh. “How old is Gabby?”
“Seven going on twenty-five.”
“Oh, that’s a fun age.”
Reeve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Says the professional educator. Me? Not so much. It’s all sass and tutus.”
“Not a fan of tea parties?”
“I can lift my pinky with the best of them. That doesn’t mean I enjoy sipping air.”
A fizzy sensation spreads through me at the picture he paints. What I feared would be an awkward exchange is turning out to be the exact opposite. “You’re such a good uncle. Gabby must adore you.”
“Not to toot my own horn, but—”
“Oh, my blessed pearls. What do we have here?”
I turn slightly to face the unknown voice merging into our bubble. An older woman—probably in her mid-sixties—studies me. Her silver hair is coiffed to perfection, matching the pressed power suit and ruby gloss meant to stand out in a crowd. This woman is making a statement among her denim-clad peers.
Her stained lips spread in a wide smile. Reeve chokes on the end of what he intended to share. I wait quietly for what happens next. He clearly knows this lady. The mounting tension feels like a standoff of sorts.
The stranger bounces her gaze between us as we remain silent. “Am I intruding?”
“No,” he rushes to say. “Not at all.”
She hums. “Excellent. You know I hate to be rude, Reeve.”
“Of course, Mrs. Mayberry. And good afternoon to you. It’s a pleasure seeing you this fine Sunday.”
“Same to you, dear.” Her words are meant for his ears, but she spares him just a flick of a glance. She’s barely taken her shrewd gaze off me. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to make a formal introduction. I’m Dorothy. Most refer to me as Dottie, though.”
“Audria,” I return with a tight grin. Something about Reeve’s reaction to her doesn’t sit well in my churning belly.
Dorothy laughs at my response, a lacy glove covering her curling mouth. Oh, she’s trouble. “So I’ve heard. You moved to Bampton Valley about a month ago, correct? You’ve caused quite the stir ever since.”
Why do I feel like I have a blinding spotlight over my head? I almost peek over my shoulder to see if we’re drawing attention. “Oh?”
“Without a doubt, dear. Not many catch the eye of our local bachelor.” With that, she pins Reeve with a haughty smirk. His complexion holds a tinge of gray, resembling the fading wood of the booth surrounding him.
Another interesting response from the usually suave fellow. I take extra care to maintain a neutral expression, concealing any semblance of surprise behind a polite grin. “We’re just friends,” I inform her.
She titters like my grandma with a treasure trove of gossip to spread. “Sure, dear. That’s just fine. No evidence suggests otherwise.”
I want to call bullshit, but she’s the type to take offense. Ending up on her shit list doesn’t appeal to me. I’ve only lived in Bampton Valley for a month, and the scale only continues to dip heavier in favor of this small-town community. But to be fair, my interactions with the rumor train’s ring leaders have been minimal. “I’m glad there’s no confusion.”
“None at all. I commend your reluctance. Even cheer you on for it. Reeve already has so many admirers. I honestly don’t know how he manages his social calendar. It must be exhausting, yes?” Dorothy pins the full force of her accusation on the man whose character is being attacked.
I take the opportunity to stab him with my own dose of undivided attention. No doubt my eyes reflect the curiosity swirling inside me. The plot of his story just got a few chapters thicker. “Does he now?”
Reeve has the decency to appear caught red-handed under the microscope. The shade of his cheeks matches the cluster of tomatoes in front of him. His jaw clenches with unspoken retorts. His throat bobs with a heavy swallow, most likely chewing on a nice selection of choice words. I wonder what he wants to tell Mrs. Mayberry. “That’s all hearsay, Dottie.”
She tips her nose upward, sniffing the air. “Becky, Rochelle, and Julie claim it’s the truth.”
“And that’s who you choose to believe?” he grinds out.
“They’ve never steered me wrong.” This woman is ruthless. She will gladly announce all of his juicy exploits without batting a mascara-coated eyelash. That’s not how I prefer to discover the most elusive secrets that make this man tick. Not that I need to uncover all there is to know about my friend.
Dorothy claps, another grin blooming on her lips. “Well, I must be off. You two have a lovely day.”
I guess whatever she planned to accomplish with this ambush is done. A dull tug pulls between my brows. I unhinge my jaw with the makings of a farewell, but Dorothy doesn’t give me a chance. She vanishes faster than her arrival, blending into the throng as if she’d never separated herself to begin with. I watch until her royal-blue outfit fades into the background.
“Remind me never to get on her bad side,” I murmur absently.
Reeve knocks on the counter, regaining my focus. “She’s all talk and little action so long as you don’t feed her flames. As a Bam lifer, Dottie takes newcomer initiation seriously.”
“She seems to fit the stereotype.”
“Precisely. Typical shenanigans.” He winks at me.
“It’s comforting to know you weren’t lying about people talking.”
A devilish smirk quirks his lips. “I won’t steer you wrong, especially about the town’s idiocies and rumor mills.”
I return his grin. “Thanks for that. She’s brutal.”
“Nothing I haven’t already been smeared
