Page 11 of Love Expert

“Alana, right?” I slip my phone into my back pocket and stop on the customer side of the counter. “Alana Page?”

“Alana Watkins.” She whips her pastry fridge open, plates up acupcake, then slaps it down on the counter by my hand. “Tommy never let me go. And you?—”

“Maggie Sava.”

“Oh, I know.” Settling back on her heels, she sways and pats her sleeping baby’s bottom. “I already got the gossip down at the gym.”

“What gym? What gossip?” Jesus. She’s a Plainview gossipmonger, too?She wassomuch cooler back in school. “Why were you talking about me?”

“Tommy and Chris’ gym.” She picks a little icing off my cupcake and licks the rainbow swirl from her finger. “And Jeremy told me the gossip.”

“Jeremy? Jeremy, who?”

“Caster,” she snickers. “Your new neighbor.”

“You gossip with an eight-year-old boy? Seriously?” I peek over my shoulder and find the whole book club still silent, still staring. Coughing out a nervous laugh, I bring my focus back around. “They start ‘em young in Plainview these days?”

Snorting, she leans a little closer and murmurs, “Give the book club bitches ten more minutes, then they’ll file out and leave us be. They won’t be able to help themselves.” Pulling back, she hitches her hip against the counter and goes back to baby-patting. “Tell me everything, Maggie! Where’ve you been? What did you do there? Kids? Husband? Golden retriever?”

I firm my quivering lips, lest I reward her too easily with a smile, and press my hip to the counter too. It’s the perfect angle to watch her and the book club at the same time. “Not married. No kids. No dogs at all. Jeremy Caster is my neighbor, and I’m pretty sure I’ve convinced him I’m a witch who boils little children for fun.”

And just like that, the book club ladies peel out of the store, coffee cups still spinning, books left behind for Alana to pick up and pack away.

“They’re gonna add that tidbit to the gossip vines.” Finally, Alana relaxes her shoulders, and her crazy-eyed grin smooths into the one I remember from school. “It’s seriously awesome to see you, Maggie. I was sorry to hear about your grandma’s passing.”

Picking at my cupcake’s icing, I shrug. “I didn’t really know her. Seems it should be me passing my condolences to everyone else.” I bring my eyes up again. “AlanaWatkins? And a sweet baby girl, too?”

“She’s my heart.” She presses a kiss to the baby’s peach-fuzz head. “My son is my soul. And my husband is the world, keeping us all together.”

“You married the fighting champion,” I smirk, licking sugary icingfrom my finger. “Let’s not pretend his face hasn’t been on all the magazine covers foryears.”

“I mean, he’s pretty amazing,” she admits dreamily. “And he works so hard for?—”

“And then there’s your face, too, Miss. Big-Shot-Book-Deal. I can’t go to the store now without seeing an entire display with your name on the cover.”

Her cheeks glow red. “Aw, yeah, well?—”

“You’re living the freakin’ dream. And now…” I cast my eyes around the store. “You own this place? What happened to Mrs. Middler?”

“She was getting on in age and didn’t want it anymore, so I made an offer. Now, this functioning-at-a-loss business enterprise of mine is flushing.”

“You mean flourishing?”

“No,” she giggles. “I meanflushing. Like, down the toilet. But my successful-in-business husbandswearshe doesn’t mind carrying us, so even if this place costs us money, he wants me to live my dreams and blah blah blah.” She stares deep into my eyes. “What the hell happened between you and Billy the night you got to town?”

My heart gives a heavy one-two thump. “What?”

“Ramone said you nearly got arrested, and that you were probably gonna file a formal complaint against Billy. I heard you were trespassing, then he was trespassing, and eventually Jeremy was trespassing.” She snorts. “I always knew that kid would end up with a rap sheet before he was even old enough for one.”

“Good to see that small-town charm is still being fertilized with manure.” My phone buzzes in my back pocket, beeping and vibrating against my butt. Wiping sticky fingers on my jeans, I snag the device and spy a number from the next town over.

“You need to take that?”

I glance up and catch Alana’s eyes trained on my phone, her long, dark lashes kissing her cheeks each time she blinks.

“Uhhh… nah.” I silence the call and vow to return it soon. “I’d much rather askwhat the hell, Alana?”

Surprised, her patting hand pauses for a beat. “What?”