Free Looking for You by Kate Perry

anything today?"
    The woman blinked and then slowly
nodded. "Um. Yes. I guess I'm looking for a gourd."
    "You came to the right
place," Gwendolyn said happily. She faced Camille. "Thank you for
stopping by, and good luck with your article."
    Knowing she'd been dismissed, Camille
murmured something appropriate and left the store, feeling defeated. How was
she going to become a great journalist if not even a gourd artist would speak
to her?
    Albeit, the woman was truly a master
at her craft. Camille wouldn't have been surprised if Ms. Pierce won the spot
in the de Young's permanent collection. She deserved it.
    It didn't explain why she shied away
from an interview though. Even beekeepers liked the free publicity. That rug
weaver Camille had to interview couldn't wait to tell her his whole life story.
    Why didn't Gwendolyn Pierce want to
talk?
    Did Gwendolyn Pierce have a sweatshop
in the back? Or—Camille gasped—an army of illegal Chinese workers
who'd been sold to her to produce gourds!
    Or maybe she had a dead body back
there, chilling on ice.
    Walking down the street, Camille
glanced over her shoulder at the store. Outta My Gourd. Definitely, yes.
     
    ~
     
    Gwen heaved
a sigh of relief the moment the door closed behind the reporter. She'd always
had an aversion to reporters, but especially since she'd run away. And Camille
Bernard had a hungry look in her eyes, like she'd chew off her own leg and sell
it for a good story.
    "So..."
Lola leaned against a display case and crossed her legs at the ankles.
"Apparently I'm desperate to buy a gourd."
    "You
are, and good thing you realized it when you did." Gwen grinned.
"Thanks for playing along."
    "Mind
telling me why we were pretending?"
    "That
was a reporter."
    Lola perked
up. "I love reporters."
    Gwen made a
face. "You do?"
    "Yeah,
because it means free marketing." She shrugged unapologetically. "On
an author's budget, you take whatever marketing you can get, especially free
marketing."
    Gwen knew
for a fact that Lola wasn't a starving writer like she pretended. In fact,
after Lola had moved in upstairs and introduced herself, Gwen had looked up the
woman's books. Lola was a romance author, with a dozen books to her name. Her
latest book had been at the top of the New York Times bestseller list for
weeks.
    "I'd
think free publicity would please you too," Lola said.
    "I'm a
private person." To change the subject before Lola and her inquisitive
nature got too nosy, she asked, "So what brings you down here?"
    "Oh,
right. I wanted to invite you over for dinner."
    "Pizza
and champagne?" Gwen asked hopefully.
    "Definitely.
And I just received the latest teen dance movie from Netflix."
    "Is it
god-awful?"
    "It
got the worst reviews I've ever seen," Lola replied gleefully.
    "Super."
If Lola hadn't moved in upstairs Gwen would never have been introduced to the
delights of dance movies with no plot. Her favorite was Step Up 2. She knew
most of the dance sequences by heart.
    Lola stood
to her full height, which was tall. "What time are you closing?"
    The door to
the store opened right as Gwen started to answer. She stiffened, thinking the
reporter was back.
    But she
wasn't. It was Rick Clancy who walked into her store.
    Gwen
started to smile, happy to see him, but then she remembered she was annoyed. He
hadn't contacted in days, since that night they'd—what? Had sex? It'd
been more than sex. Made love? That was overreaching.
    Lola arched
her brow, her hand going to her throat as she stared at him. Gwen couldn't
blame her—Rick looked particularly delicious this afternoon in jeans and
his leather jacket.
    And he only
had eyes for her, which both made her both worried and pleased. Pleased because
Lola was a voluptuous blonde with legs that never ended. Fantasy Time Barbie,
she called herself. But Rick didn't seem to notice her.
    And this
worried Gwen because it was an awful idea having his attention focused too closely on her. Even with their truce,
she wasn't certain if he was