Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)(6)

I head to the door and pull it open. Before stepping outside, I glance at Penn. The bastard is smirking.

“He’s trouble,” I say, and step out into the morning sun.





CHAPTER THREE

PENN

Are you just going to stand there drooling like a puppy dog, or are you gonna say something?” Harper elbows me in the side.

I drag my eyes from the doorway and look at her. “What do you want me to say? Who the fuck was that? Because that’s all I can think about right now.”

Harper laughs as she watches my reaction to the woman who just gave me an instant case of blue balls.

Tight T-shirt with an eighties band emblazoned across “more than her fair share” breasts.

Eyes that are so dark I can’t even tell what color they are.

And a smile that is like crack to my veins—if I knew what doing crack was like.

“No, for real,” I say. “Who is she, Harp?”

“Actually, she’s my niece. Her name is Avery Perry.”

I pivot to face her, my jaw dropping for her amusement. “You’ve been holding out on me?”

“I’m sorry. Am I supposed to give you a breakdown of all of the members of my family?”

“If they look like you, yeah.” My jaw springs back to a more normal, less shocked position. “With pictures, if you can spare them.”

“You’re awful.”

“Have I not always told you that you’re a hottie?” I tease.

“I could be your mother. I’m . . . older than that, even. I’m ten years older than Avery’s mother, who is my sister.”

I plop in her chair. “Well, I have nothing against cougars. Just saying.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” Despite her best attempt at pretending she’s not flattered, she is. Her cheeks give her away.

Swiveling back and forth in the chair because I know it drives her crazy, I wait. Harper has been cutting my hair for as long as I can remember. I’ve learned a thing or two about her over the years—one being that she likes to talk. A lot. If I give her enough time, she’ll tell me everything I need to know about her niece without me even having to ask.

She busies herself organizing shampoos until, like clockwork, she can’t take it anymore.

“She’s single, you know. In case you care,” she says with a practiced nonchalance.

Bingo!

“Of course I care. Did you see her ass?”

“Stop that,” she says, trying to take a swat at me.

“Stop what? Stop acting like that’s the finest ass I’ve ever seen? All round and juicy . . .” I adjust my cock. “But for real, I’m happy to hear she’s single. I do have standards.”

“And I’m happy to hear that.”

“So, what else do I need to know? Don’t hold out on me now.”

“Well, she’s from Los Angeles. She moved in with me a couple of days ago.”

“Is she running from some ex-boyfriend or something?” I ask. “I’ve been itching for a good fight.”

Harper laughs. “No. I’m pretty sure she could hold her own with just about anyone. I can’t see her running from a boyfriend. She is my niece, you know.”

“I’d like to go toe to toe with her, if you know what I mean,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows.

She gives me a solid once-over, like she’s grading me somehow. It makes me squirm. Finally, she nods.

“You know, if you play your cards right—like I know you can—I think she could be a good match for you, Penn.”

I flinch. The way she says it, like she’s dangling a carrot in front of me, gives me everything I need to know. “You’re talking about monogamy, aren’t you?”

“Penn . . .”

“I’m allergic.”

“You are not allergic.” She sighs. “But you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life if you don’t straighten up, and that would be such a waste.”

I try my hardest not to laugh, but it eventually comes out in a half chuckle, half snort. “Trust me. I’m never alone. I don’t really see that being an issue.”

“Not having someone in bed with you and being alone are two different things.”

“I disagree, buddy.”

Harper throws her hands up in the air. “I quit. Let’s talk about why you’re actually on time instead.”

“It turns out that I can’t sleep in even when I’m on vacation. How fucked up is that?” I get up, take my hat off, and hang it on a hook by the door. My hand goes in my hair, which needed cutting last month. It’s sticking up everywhere and half-glued to my head. I glance at the doorway again. “Do you want to go ahead and get started?”

“You worried Avery will see you all out of whack?”

“Trust me. Women don’t care what my hair looks like.”

“Trust me. They do.” She ignores my question and goes back to organizing the combs on her station. “So, what’s this about a vacation?”

I mosey over to the other side of the room and pretend to be killing time. Rocking back on my heels, I try to get a glimpse out the window.

“Oh, I have a couple of weeks off,” I say as I take a step to the side. I try to get a peek in again and fail. “Dane, um, you know, he’s . . .”