Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)(75)

It’s not that I expect him to call me his girlfriend, but it’s the almost offense he takes to the question that bothers me. As if calling me that stings.

“Avery is new to town,” Penn says in a flimsy attempt at changing the subject. “This is her first Dogwood Day.”

“It’s great.” I force a swallow. “It was really nice meeting you. Hey, Penn,” I say, turning toward him. “I’m going to go check out a booth over there.”

With as natural of a smile as possible, I back away and scoot over to the first booth.

We aren’t labeling this, I remind myself. We are still just friends. Even if I might be ready to settle on being exclusive, he’s not.

Could he be embarrassed of me?

I wish I had a friend to talk this out with.

My hand shakes slightly as I pick up a pin shaped like a die. Roll with it. That’s what I used to say.

Maybe this is a sign.

“How much is this?” I ask, holding up the black-and-white decoration.

“Two dollars.”

I fish out a couple of ones from my pocket and set them on the table. “Here you go,” I say.

The guy wearing a hat with a ponytail sewn on the back nods. “Thank you.”

I spin around and almost run into Penn.

He’s a wall of muscle and energy that blocks my way. It would be easy to slip my arms around his waist and to plant a kiss in the middle of his chest like I did all night last night. But there’s a strange vibe rolling off him that keeps me from it.

“I, um, just bought a pin. See?” I hold it in the air.

He checks it out but doesn’t move. “Cute.”

“Cute?”

“Awesome?”

“I hope you’d think so,” I say, stepping around him. “Since you have two printed forever on your arm.”

He follows me as I head back into the throng of people.

“Well, my two had a little meaning behind them,” he says.

I slow, my heart picking up speed. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He touches my elbow. I turn in a half circle until I’m looking up into his eyes. He looks uncertain, as if his normal swagger and confidence are missing and he’s not sure why. Uncertainty is still the name of the game as the confidence that usually oozes from his pores is missing.

A microphone shrieks behind us as someone does a sound check. Music begins to play, and the voices around us begin to talk louder to be heard.

Penn steps closer.

“I got those to remember a girl named Abby. The girl that listened to my story one night by the lake and didn’t judge me. Didn’t tell me what to do or feel. Didn’t tell me I was right or wrong. That was the first time that had ever happened to me.”

I sag, the weight of his words sinking into me.

Over the last decade, I knew that night was special . . . to me. I never dreamed it was so important to him.

“Abby felt like someone finally liked her despite her bad dye job and weird lipstick,” I say past the lump in my throat. “That boy listened to her rants and commiserated with her situation, and she really believed she could’ve told him there was an article about her on the newsstands and he wouldn’t have cared. That was the first time that ever happened to me.”

He sticks his arm around my shoulders and pulls my head against him as we start back down the road.

“You had enough of Dogwood Day?” he asks.

I look up at him. “We said we’d have dinner at Dane’s.”

“We did, but I think I need to be alone with you more.”

The look in his eye suggests sex, but I’m still not sure if he doesn’t want me to be a part of his world. Everyone knows him, and although the people we’ve met have mostly been friendly, he hasn’t been at ease. He did say to me that he wasn’t sure how to do this and we are a pretty new thing, so I need to give him the benefit of the doubt.

It’s just that I want him to want me as much publicly as he does privately. That’s my problem and not his. Maybe I’m just reading too much into this. It’s possible he’s trying not to lead me on, and if that’s the case, it’s the right thing for him to do.

I needed time to tell him we’d slept together. Maybe he needs time to come to terms with this too.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”

He lays his cheek on the top of my head and guides me back to the car. We get looks from bystanders and the occasional wave as we pass different booths. But he never stops to say hello. And I wonder why.

He opens the truck door and holds it as I climb in. Before he shuts it, he peers up at me.

“I had fun with you today,” he says. “Thanks for coming with me.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. The door closes.

As I watch him walk around the front, I think about his reactions to things. He’s coming around slowly. Changes don’t happen overnight.

I hope.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

PENN

There he is.” Matt steps away from the plans Trevor dropped off yesterday. “Hard time getting out of bed this morning?”

I survey the room. Besides Matt and his wonderful attitude, it’s empty.

Avery left my house a few hours ago to go by Harper’s for clean clothes, and then the two of them were going to have breakfast together. I, on the other hand, needed sleep.