Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)(24)

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

“I’m sure you are.” His eyes narrow, the tip of his tongue sliding across his lower lip. It’s enough to wake me up.

“You would know if you remembered,” I say before I can think about it. My knuckles turn white as I hold on to the chair with all my might. I swallow hard. My brain tries to come up with something to distract him from that stupid, stupid little statement, but I come up with nothing.

His eyebrows furrow. “What’s that mean?”

“It means . . . ,” I say, swallowing again. “It just means that if you remembered what I said at the salon, you’d know I have a checklist.”

I’m in trouble.

He leans in so close that I feel his breath on my cheek. The anticipation of what he’s about to say has me struggling for oxygen.

When I was cutting his hair, I was in charge. The playing field is much more level here, and the only thing I can use as a barrier is a glass of Rocket Razzle.

I need to pull away. I need to stop this before he does something stupid like kiss me, and I do something stupid like kiss him back.

“Avery?” he whispers in my ear.

“Yeah?”

My heart beats in my throat. I shiver as the proximity of his lips becomes so deliciously obvious. If one of us moves even a muscle, his mouth will be touching me.

“You have a pickle on your shirt,” he says softly.

I look down to see a bright-green pickle right between my boobs. Penn pulls back, but not before I swat his shoulder.

“We are not friends,” I tell him, grabbing a napkin from the holder in the center of the table.

“We’re friends, though, right?” Matt asks.

“Definitely.” I look across the table. “You can even be my new best friend.”

“Wanna fight?” Penn looks at Matt. “I’ll fight you right here.”

Matt takes a long drink of his beer as Claire jumps into the fray with a tale of Penn and Matt in an actual fight in high school. In the midst of the heckling and storytelling and pickle plucking, I find myself laughing easily with them.

The longer we sit, the more normal this feels. We eat our meals lazily and get our drinks refilled again and again. There’s no rush, no subtle hustle to an underlying agenda from any of them. They genuinely like each other’s company. And mine, I think.

I grab the water glass I traded for my Rocket Razzle an hour ago and settle back in my seat. Matt segues into a story about a dog named Blue. As they continue on, asking me about my life and filling me in on theirs like we’re long-lost friends, an overwhelming sense of comfort washes over me.

These three people might just be my first true, “like me for me” friends. Even though they’ve had years together to really build their friendship, we just seem to click. Best of all, I don’t have to be someone I’m not to fit in.

The breeze filters through the patio, ruffling the covers on the tiki huts. It reminds me of sitting on the beach by my apartment in California, the only place I ever felt free from that world. I’m starting to feel free here in the midst of people who might just be my people.

The thought makes me smile.

As the breeze settles and Claire finishes her story about a doughnut, Penn’s knee brushes against mine. A flurry of goose bumps breaks out across my skin because even if I can’t play in that pool, he’s gorgeous. He glances at me with a sinful grin.

Penn might be a lot of things. Persistent. Likable. Dreamy, even. But as I watch his eyes hood and read between the lines, one thing becomes clear: he won’t be my lover.





CHAPTER NINE

PENN

And that’s how I ended up with the name ‘Happy’ tattooed on my body.” Claire tips the end of her beer bottle toward Avery. “I told you that I always find the dandies.”

“I think I’m going to have to agree with you,” Avery says with a laugh. “Remind me never to let you pick my dates.”

Alexis comes by and drops off the leftover pizza she boxed up for Matt. She doesn’t say anything to me. She hasn’t said a word my way since I told her I had a date with Avery. I don’t really care because despite Alexis’s easygoing smile, she’s a vulture. She smelled a new woman and was trying to stake a claim.

I watch Avery swirl a straw around her drink as she talks about her last date. The guy sounds like a douche. At least I’ll give her a good story to tell when we have our date, because we will. I just need more time.

The fact that I need more time has me more turned on than I’ve been in a while.

She’s sat beside me all night, driving me freaking crazy. Her skin is soft as she bumps my arm, and I can’t even tell if she’s doing it on purpose. Her laugh is contagious. I’ve smiled more tonight than I might ever have, and that’s concerning.

I’m going to look like the Joker if I don’t get out of here.

But getting out of here means not being with her while I can. While I’m not the smartest guy in the world, I’m smart enough to know that math doesn’t add up.

“Are you staying in town forever? Or are you just here for a job or something?” Claire asks. “Most people don’t move here out of the blue. Most people don’t even know that Dogwood Lane exists. It’s not like we have anything here to attract people.”