Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)(40)

“I’m not sweet,” I say again. “And I think you’re making too big a deal out of this. I just want her to feel comfortable, you know? She’s a nice person. And I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do right now.”

Harper’s voice softens. “You’re doing it.”

“Rambling like a moron?”

“Yes.” She laughs. “Think about what’s happening right now. You’re going out of your way to make a woman happy, and it has nothing to do with you. You aren’t asking me for tips to get someone to date you or, God forbid, advice on lube.”

“I only did that once,” I say quickly. “And it was halfway a joke.”

She doesn’t care. She just laughs. “I like this side of you, Penn.”

“Yeah, well, this side of me feels like a pussy.”

I walk in a circle as Harper tells me to get a grip. That being thoughtful, which is what she’s classified me as being right now, isn’t weak. Or lame. She lies and lies to me because I know the truth. The problem is, I don’t really care about the truth. It’s secondary right now. First up is making sure all is right between Avery and me.

“I’ll tell you what,” she says. “Let me call Avery and see where she is. If she’s not busy, maybe you could swing by and say hello.”

“I don’t have to take flowers, right?”

“No.”

“Okay. Good. What about chocolate or something?”

Harper laughs again. “Are you taking her on a date?”

“No,” I hiss, making a face.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what I’m thinking. I just don’t want that kiss, the one I’ll think about all damn night and again every time I look at her, to screw things up between us.

And, truthfully, I want more than one kiss too.

Fuck.

No, I don’t.

Do I?

“It’s okay,” Harper says. “I think I get what you’re saying. Let me call her. I’ll send you a text and let you know where she’s at and if it’s a go.” She pauses, as if considering whether she should say more. “And Penn?”

“Yeah?”

“Relax.”

“Yeah.”

She sighs. “I’ll text you in a few.”

“Okay,” I say, my throat burning.

I end the call. Walking back to the water’s edge, I watch the colors in the sky. They drift together easily, melting into each other in a smooth dance.

I’ve watched this same view many evenings over my life. It never fails to occur to me that I’m not one of those colors. I can’t flow into someone else like that. Not like Dane does Neely or Haley has done with Trevor. I’m like the clouds above them, alone in my race across the sky.

Why is that? I’m glad my friends can. I see how happy it makes them. Maybe a part of me, buried down deep and one I’d never admit to, wishes I could too.

But I can’t. I’m just not built that way. No one expects me to be any different. Just like Harper, everyone loves me like I am. And that’s good enough.

Isn’t it?

My phone buzzes in my hand. I look down at a text from Harper.

She’s at my house. Go on over. She has no plans.

My heart begins to thump a rock-and-roll-style beat. I slip my phone back into my pocket.

With a final glance at the sky, I climb back into my truck and hope I don’t do more damage than I might’ve already done.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN

AVERY

Crap.”

I grab a towel and toss it over the skillet handle. Moving the sizzling pan off the heat, I look at the eggs I carefully broke a few minutes ago. They’re a giant mess.

As I’m watching, the grease around them pops, and a bullet of red-hot liquid smashes into my forearm.

“Ouch!”

I shove my arm under the sink faucet, wincing as I flip on the coldest water it can manage. My head hangs as I wait for the burn to dissipate.

My arm burns, but that’s not my biggest problem. What’s worse is the heaviness in my body. It’s like I ran a mile and someone forgot to tell me. But even if that kind of thing were possible and I were the kind of girl who could run a mile and not die, I’d know that wasn’t the cause of this drag.

It’s because I kissed a blue-eyed devil.

“Why did I do that?” I lament as the burn begins to ease. “I’m stupid, stupid, stupid.”

My head dips deeper. The hiss of the water soothes me somehow and lifts me gently out of my funk. Those words echo through my mind, and I’m reminded of what Harper said about mental dialogue.

“No,” I say out loud. “I’m not stupid. That’s not fair. I’m not even careless,” I add. “I made a choice to kiss Penn Etling, even if it wasn’t the most spectacular decision I’ve ever made.”

But his lips were pretty spectacular.

My shoulders stiffen as my brain and body go back to war. It’s hard to deny the way my stomach clenches when I think of his hands on the small of my back and the warmth of his breath against my skin. Even if I can’t deny it, I can argue it when I realize I’m standing at the kitchen sink hours later, still thinking about it while he’s probably making another girl feel the same thing.