Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)(25)

“Except me,” I cut in.

“Here we go,” Matt mumbles.

Claire rolls her eyes. “I was being serious.”

“Me too,” I say. “Take Avery, for example. I met her this morning, and she tracked me down tonight. I attract people.”

“Clearly,” Avery scoffs, resting her chin in her hands. She looks up at me and bats her eyelashes. “So that’s why when you asked me out two, maybe three, times today, I’ve told you no? Because I’m just so attracted to you?”

“No, but I’d like to know what kind of game you’re playing with that whole ‘I’m not attracted to you’ thing. I’ve never seen it before. I’m not sure how it works.”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, her lips slightly pouty, from the rum. The knot of hair on top of her head is wild, and I wonder if that’s what it looks like when she wakes up in the morning.

The lighting from the dining area of Mucker’s clicks off, indicating it’s closing time. The string lights around the patio area seem a bit hazier without the glow from the restaurant and create an almost halo effect around Avery’s head.

“It’s pretty straightforward,” she says. “It means I’m not interested in spending time with you.”

“But you are right now.”

“Alone, then,” she amends.

“So you’re an exhibitionist? I can get down with that, Ave.” I flash her a grin as she struggles to remain unaffected by me.

She raises a brow. “‘Ave’?”

“Yeah. Since we’re friends and all, I thought you needed a nickname. You have a problem with it?”

“Maybe.”

“Good.” I twist in my seat to face Matt. It kills me not to look at her, but I have to show some self-control—even if I have to fake it. “You about ready to go, Madden?”

He downs the rest of his beer and then adds some bills to the stack in the center for Alexis. “Yup.”

I pile my trash on top of my plate and do my best to avoid Avery. I figured she’d give in more tonight, but she didn’t. And I’m not sure what to do about that. She happily conveyed details of her life to Claire—the ones she wouldn’t give me earlier.

She’s from LA. She has a sister. She likes the color purple . . . I remember things about her.

Shit.

I drop my wallet. My chair scratches the pavers as I scoot back to grab it.

“You okay, Penn?” Matt asks.

Nope.

“Yeah. Yup. I’m great,” I say, scooping up the black leather and shoving it in my pocket.

I get to my feet as Harper comes by our table and stops.

“Closing the place down tonight, kids?” she asks.

“Just showing Avery how we do it,” Matt says. “How ya been, Harper?”

“Good. How’s the injury? I read about that in the paper,” she says.

“I’m healing up, but it hurt like hell.”

“He’s healing up so well that he’s going to work with me tomorrow, aren’t ya, bud?” I ask.

Harper shifts her bag on her shoulder. “What are you guys doing?”

“Fuck if I know,” I say. “Something for kids that I’m sure will be as clear as mud. The last time I had a job like this, I had to buy paint colors called Blush and Bashful. Those are pink, if you didn’t know.”

“Oh, I know,” Harper says. “I think I know what project you’re talking about, actually. I heard something about it at the café this morning.” She taps her chin with a long fingernail. “Anyway, I’ll be home later, Avery. Don’t wait up.” She tosses her niece a wink and heads toward the door.

Avery stands and gathers her things from the table. I don’t stare at her ass. I want to point that out, to make sure people see what a good job I’m doing, but I keep it to myself.

Claire says goodbye and walks out with Harper. Matt, catching my pointed glare at the last minute, stands at attention.

“Avery,” he says, “it was nice meeting you. I’ll see you later, Etling.”

“By ‘later,’ you mean tomorrow morning, right?” I ask.

“Maybe.”

He knows he has me in a bind. If I argue with him, he’ll still be here to walk Avery out. If I let him go, I’ll have her all to myself for a few precious minutes.

As she looks at her phone, I motion my head toward the door. Matt chuckles.

“I’m going,” he mouths. “See ya, Avery.”

She looks up at him and smiles. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Same. Catch ya later, you two.” He grabs the pizza box and heads for the gate. I don’t miss the shake of his head or quiet snickering.

The music that’s played all evening stops, and the string lights flicker off. The squeak of the gate as Matt leaves indicates Avery and I are alone.

I take a deep breath.

This should be easy enough. I’ve been alone with more than my fair share of women. But as she looks at me with a grin that’s a little less confident than before, I feel myself pussying out for the first time in my life.

My heart thumps, my knees bounce, and my fucking lips won’t stop smiling. It’s reminiscent of the night I found myself alone with Michele Santos when I was twelve. We were playing a massive game of hide-and-seek in the park at dusk. Somehow, we both ended up behind a statue memorializing a Civil War battle and left as newly cemented kissers.