Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)
Adriana Locke
CHAPTER ONE
PENN
How hard is it, Penn?”
Dane’s keys hit the table. They skid into the saltshaker, sending it rattling around the tabletop. He shoots a raised brow that is some kind of warning my direction before he turns and signals for a coffee.
“Well,” I say as Claire approaches the table, “I probably shouldn’t answer that. I am a gentleman, after all.”
“You are not.” Claire side-eyes me as she sets a mug down in front of Dane. “You and the word ‘gentleman’ should never be used in the same sentence.”
“But you just did.”
She rolls her eyes. “Want me to accidentally-on-purpose miss the cup and pour this piping-hot liquid on your lap?”
“You’ve tried that before. I’m too quick.”
Claire snorts, her lips twisting into an amused smile. “I heard that about you.”
My jaw drops in mock horror.
“Will you two stop it? You fight like brother and sister,” Dane says.
“That would make Claire’s dreams awkward.”
Her gaze whips to mine, her eyes narrowed for my benefit. There’s a comeback on the tip of her tongue. I lean forward as if I’m waiting on her reply. She laughs instead.
“I hate you,” she says before turning to Dane. “Do you want anything to eat?”
“No. Thanks. Just trying to track this jackass down all morning.” He jabs a thumb my way.
“Yeah, well, good luck now that you’ve found him. He’s sat in here for hours, giving me hell,” Claire says. “If you need anything else, let me know.”
Claire walks away, swaying her hips a little for my benefit. It’s appreciated. I’d much, much rather think about her hips than whatever it is Dane’s going to rope me into.
He sips his coffee beside me like it’s another morning at the Dogwood Café. The table of farmers by the door probably think it’s just Madden Carpentry having some breakfast before we find Matt, my best friend and Dane’s younger brother, and get to work.
But it’s not.
Something is brewing, and I don’t know what it is. What I do know is that Dane doesn’t start blowing up my phone at six in the morning on an actual workday, let alone my first vacation day in two years.
Yeah. Something is up, and I’m not going to like it.
“So?” Dane asks finally. “Did you lose your phone last night or something?”
I tug it out of my pocket and slide it across the table. “Nope. It’s right there.”
The irritation on his face is satisfying.
“Then why aren’t you answering it?” he asks.
“Do you answer calls when you don’t want to talk to someone? No. The invention of caller ID makes ignoring people a breeze.”
He sighs. “Penn.”
“Dane,” I mock, stretching my legs out in front of me. “What do you want so I can get on with my day?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“Then talk.”
The longer he takes to explain whatever it is that’s going to ruin my day, the more my stomach twists. Visions of fishing and taking a nap while watching that show about shiplap slip away.
It’s my turn to sigh. “I’m not going to be screwing off today, am I?”
“Depends how you’re using the word ‘screw.’”
Sitting up, I cross my arms on the table. My tattoos bend and flex as I move. My latest ink, a small triangle that isn’t exactly straight because the guy who did it reeked of vodka, sits on my forearm like a permanent reminder of all the dumb shit I’ve ever done in my life—like this tattoo. And, most likely, whatever it is I’m about to agree to.
It’s going to be terrible, or he wouldn’t have bothered to dance around the topic. He would’ve just said it. Dane doesn’t use lube.
“I have an appointment in ten minutes,” I say, watching a car turn into the salon across the street from the café. “Whatever is so damn important that you chased me down while I was having breakfast—”
“You weren’t having breakfast. You were flirting with Claire.”
“For your information, I did have breakfast, and I was not flirting with Claire.”
“You were totally flirting with me,” Claire says as she walks by.
Dane waves a hand in my face, blocking the view of Claire’s ass. “Let’s bring your attention back here.”
“Can I think about it?”
“No.” His words are filled with equal amounts exasperation and irritation. “Look, as much as it pains me to say this, I need your help.”
I knew it.
I pull my wallet from my pocket and lay a five-dollar bill on the table for Claire. Avoiding Dane’s eyes isn’t easy work, but I’m a pro.
“Penn?” he asks.
“Catch ya later, Dane.” I get my phone and climb to my feet three seconds before he does. As I head to the front door, he’s just a half step behind me.
The sunlight is warm against my face as I make my way outside. The cool breeze that held so much promise earlier is now a tease.
“Just hear me out,” he insists as he catches up to me.