Bidding On The Bachelor. Kerri Carpenter

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СКАЧАТЬ what about after the meeting?”

      “What do you mean?” Jasper asked hesitantly.

      “I heard you celebrated by going for a little swim in the bay.”

      Jasper ground his teeth together. “How did you...” He trailed off. Of course, he already knew the answer to that question. How did anyone in Bayside know anything? The ever-loving, always-gossipy Bayside Blogger, of course.

      The Bayside Blogger wrote for the Bayside Bugle’s Style & Entertainment section. No one knew her identity, or how she always—and it truly felt like always—found out the gossip before anyone else. She also utilized a daily blog, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and just about every other form of communication in existence.

      “And the Blogger said that Carissa Blackwell is back in town,” Cam was saying. “She alluded to your little dip in the water having something to do with a Carissa spotting.”

      Spotting? When had his brother become TMZ? Time to call him out. “I thought you didn’t read that...what did you used to call it? Trash, I believe,” Jasper said.

      Cam coughed. “Uh, Elle reads it. I just happen to catch snippets here and there.”

      “Sure, sure. Elle reads it. Doesn’t explain how you would know about me falling into the bay today, though, since your beloved is out of town checking out that up-and-coming artist for the gallery. You must be losing your mind without your better half around.” Got him.

      Since Elle returned from living in Italy last spring, she and his brother had been practically attached at the hip. Jasper was happy for his brother. And jealous, if he was being honest. The guy was head over heels in love. And Elle looked at him the way Carissa gazed at him in that old prom photo.

      “She’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Listen, Jasp,” Cam said, his voice growing serious.

      Here we go, Jasper thought. He knew exactly where this was heading. This was so not going to be fun.

      “Yes?”

      “Carissa.” Cam said her name the way one might say cancer or terrorist.

      “Was my high school girlfriend.”

      “She was way more than that and we both know it. And she’s back in town.”

      Jasper ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “We don’t know that.”

      “The Bayside Blogger said—”

      “So what? Just because the Bayside Blogger—”

      This time Cam cut him off. “Hate to admit it but the Bayside Blogger—whoever he or she may be—does tend to be right.”

      “It doesn’t matter.” Cam started to say something so Jasper quickly beat him to the punch. “We dated a million years ago. I heard she got married and was living in the Midwest somewhere. I, on the other hand, have a date lined up with a certain hottie from the gym.”

      There was a long pause. “Do you want to come over?” Cam finally asked.

      What he wanted was to forget that he’d seen Carissa Blackwell. He wanted to have a couple beers, be alone with his thoughts, and not hear about the damn Bayside Blogger.

      Luckily, he knew just where to accomplish everything he needed. The Rusty Keg, an old dive bar, sat on the outskirts of town. People would recognize him there but they’d also give him room and leave him alone.

      “No, I’m good. Honestly,” he assured his brother.

      And he would be. So long as he didn’t see Carissa Blackwell again.

      And he stayed away from water.

      * * *

      Carissa was not a suspicious person. She was rooted in the here and now and considered herself rational and practical. And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched.

      She’d left Chicago yesterday, stayed overnight in Ohio, driven all day, hit some nasty traffic, and drunk about fifteen coffees before finally arriving in Bayside. Needing a moment to stretch—not to mention, take in the town she hadn’t laid eyes on in over a decade—she’d pulled over at the dock before she made her way to her aunt’s cottage.

      It was while she was there, taking a moment to refamiliarize herself with Bayside, stretching and getting the kinks out of her tired muscles, when she started to get that spooky feeling. First, goose bumps broke out on her skin. Then she thought she saw someone out of the corner of her eye, over to her right. Fed up, she’d left the dock and returned to her car. That’s when she’d received full confirmation that she was indeed being watched. About five people stood outside the town’s popular square, staring and pointing at her while they whispered to each other and tapped away on their phones.

      Great. Back in Bayside for five minutes and the welcome committee was already starting with the gossip. She wondered how long it would take for the whole town to know she’d returned. They wouldn’t know she’d come home with her tail between her legs. Not as long as she could help it.

      She hightailed it to her aunt’s cottage in record time.

      She found the key where Aunt Val had instructed her to look, in the flowerpot around back. She peered closer. A flowerpot that appeared to be holding a weed plant if she wasn’t mistaken. Given that, she wasn’t sure if she was excited or nervous about what she might find inside.

      Carissa let herself into the two-bedroom cottage, flicked the light switch and smiled. It was the same cozy and eccentric home she remembered from high school, maybe with a few more knickknacks collected over the years. Every room was painted a different pastel color. The kitchen wasn’t the most updated she’d ever seen but it was definitely workable. And bonus, it overlooked the deck, the small backyard and the bay beyond that. The view was probably worth more than the entire rest of the house.

      The decor was beachy and comfortable, the exact opposite of the modern high-rise she’d shared with Preston in Chicago. Perfect. Two minutes in this place and she already felt more at ease than she had in six years in her condo. This place screamed for you to kick off your shoes, whip up a margarita and blast some Jimmy Buffett from the radio.

      Carissa nodded definitely. “This will do just fine,” she murmured to herself. She saw a long note on the counter and quickly scanned it. Her aunt explained the AC system, which apparently went on the fritz from time to time. Great—since it was the last week of August, the temperature in Virginia was sweltering.

      She also left instructions for watering her eclectic—and hopefully legal—garden out back. There were notes about the proper remote for the television, what days the trash was picked up, and a large warning for her not to enjoy the absinthe in the liquor cabinet. But everything else was hers to use, borrow and enjoy.

      Carissa spent the next hour hauling her boxes from the car and getting settled. Her suitcases went into the guest bedroom she would be using. A bedroom, she noted, that was decorated in an explosion of peach paint and shell tchotchkes. It was kind of like sleeping in The Golden Girls house but Carissa couldn’t complain. The rent was free and she would be able to catch her breath.

      Her parents had never liked this house. They’d claimed her aunt had СКАЧАТЬ