Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)(27)

“If you win, which you won’t, I’ll give you a haircut for free,” she offers.

“I can get them for free from Harper all day long.”

“She doesn’t charge you?”

“Yeah, but if I didn’t have the money, she wouldn’t make me pay. Ever wonder why she’s operating out of a she shed? It’s because she’s too nice.”

She nods. “Fine. If you win . . .”

“If I woo you,” I say, taking a step toward her, “then you owe me a favor.”

“And if you don’t, you owe me.”

“As long as it’s sexual.”

She smacks my chest. I capture her hand before it can retreat and hold it against me.

Her breathing all but stops. Mine gets jagged. All I can feel is her small palm lying like a ton of bricks against my shirt. I hear nothing but the tiny sips of breath she manages to take.

A car drives by and honks. I don’t even look up to see who it is. I’m not sure that Avery hears it at all. She stretches her fingers over the fabric of my shirt. With every movement, my heart pounds harder.

I force a swallow as our eyes lock. There’s an invitation in her eyes, a breakdown of the woman-not-interested persona she’s put on all day.

With more care than I’ve ever put into a kiss, I lean down slowly. Her eyes widen as her chin lifts toward mine.

I shift my feet so I’m closer to her body. Her free hand touches me lightly on the hip. My insides are on fire as I near her lips, which are partially closed and waiting for me.

“Penn,” she whispers.

“Yeah?”

“You have pizza sauce on your face.”

My head jerks up to see her smiling at me. I drop her hand and bring mine to my face, dabbing at my mouth. When she laughs, I realize what she’s done.

“That’s not even funny,” I say as she laughs harder. Adrenaline leaves me sluggish and defeated. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

She shrugs. “You owe me.”

“You were wooed,” I say.

“Hardly.”

“I saw you,” I tell her. “You wanted that kiss.”

She climbs in her car and sticks the keys in the ignition. “If I wanted that kiss, your tongue would be in my mouth right now.”

“Stop talking foreplay,” I groan, adjusting myself.

The car starts. She closes the door but rolls the window down. “Seriously, though. Thanks for inviting me to sit with you guys tonight. It was fun.”

“Anytime.” I take another step backward. “Feel free to call that favor due whenever. I can give you a list of my specialties.”

She puts the car in reverse and waves. “Bye, Penn.” A wicked laugh slips out the window, and I find myself smiling in response.

“You were wooed,” I call after her.

I watch her drive off into the night. Standing way too long in the parking lot, my hands jammed in my pockets, I take in the weird twinge in my chest. Couple it with the smile on my face and two things are certain.

She was wooed, and I am screwed.





CHAPTER TEN

AVERY

Good morning, sweet pea.” Harper flounces into the salon, looking fresh as lettuce. Her hair is curled into amazing beach waves and her pineapple-print maxi dress is adorable. “I stayed at my friend’s last night,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows, “and got here early. I just ran over to the café for a cup of coffee and a doughnut.”

I yawn.

“Glad you’re chipper this morning.” She sets her cup on her station. “Late night?”

“Kind of,” I say. “I forgot a spoon for my yogurt so I’m kind of cranky.”

“Out all night with Penn?”

“No.” I give my one-word answer as much emphasis as I can in the hope that she leaves that specific topic be.

“But you wanted to be, huh?”

“Wanted to be what?”

“That’s a yes.” She chuckles to herself as she picks her coffee back up again. “It’s okay, Avery. He’s cute. Things happen with cute guys.”

Things don’t always happen with cute guys, and I can thank a mosquito for that. If it hadn’t been for that blood-sucking insect biting my calf when it did, I’d have been bitten by Penn instead.

His playful yet provocative methods of trying to win my favor worked. I wasn’t able to think about much other than that non-kiss all night. I even thought about it while I got dressed this morning.

I hate to admit it, but I was kind of wooed.

Damn it.

I just wonder what kind of a kisser he is now. Does he run his hands through your hair? Cup the sides of your face with his calloused fingers? Does he kiss sweetly or aggressively? Does he use his tongue on the first go at it, or does he hold back?

Things I’d like to know, true. But I’m better off not having a clue.

I avoid her eyes. “Yes. He is. There’s no denying that. But he’s . . . And I’m . . . And we . . . just can’t,” I say. “We can’t. That’s all.”

“Oh, I’m sure he could.”

“But I can’t.” I spring to my feet in a sudden urge to move. “He’s exactly what I moved here to get away from, Harper. I would be an idiot to get sucked back into . . . that.”