Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)(8)

I perk up. “Harper, you’re a fucking genius.”

“It’s been said.”

My head whips to the doorway only milliseconds before Avery walks through it. Her eyes instantly meet mine. My jaw goes slack again. I’m well aware of it before Harper’s elbow digs into my ribs.

Avery gathers her dark locks and piles them on top of her head. As she twists a rubber band around her hair, she never drops her eyes from mine. I don’t look away. I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to—and I don’t. I really fucking don’t.

I shift in my sneakers, trying to subtly adjust myself without her noticing. A smile tickles the side of her lips—full, kissable, cherry-tinted lips that I have all sorts of ideas how to occupy. As if she can read my mind, she laughs.

“Avery?” Harper calls out. “Is there any way you can fit Penn in right now?”

“I can make it fit—ouch!” I mumble under my breath as I take yet another elbow from Harper.

Avery looks at Harper, then at me for a lingering second, and then back to her boss. “It’s my first day. Clearly, I have an opening.”

“I—”

“Don’t you dare,” Harper whispers. She clears her throat. “Great. Thanks. It’ll help me out.”

Avery casts me a glance that tells me she thinks I put Harper up to this. I’m relieved to see she doesn’t look pissed about that possibility, because even though it’s not true, I’m not mad about it. Not even a little bit. In fact, I might owe Harper a favor for this one.

“Is this because of me?” Lorene asks. “I don’t want to mess up your schedule—”

“Lorene,” I say, “trust me when I say this is working out just like it’s supposed to.”

“Well, all right then,” Lorene says. “I won’t worry about it.”

Avery raises a brow.

I grin.

She rolls her eyes and picks up her apron. It slips around her slim neck. Like she knows I’m an ass man, she turns away and ties the apron around her waist. The tie drops on top of a perfect, peach-shaped behind.

Harper laughs as she walks my way. She doesn’t say anything until she’s right beside me, where only I can hear her. “Penn Etling is flustered. What will Matt say about this?”

I square my shoulders, making a concerted effort to keep my voice low. “I’m not flustered. So don’t go beauty-shop gossiping this around town. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah. God forbid anyone think you might actually be interested in someone for real.”

I lean forward and grin. “Oh, I’m interested in that, all right. I couldn’t be more interested.”

“You behave. She’s a professional.”

“Dear God, I hope so.”

Harper smacks me in the stomach. I bend at the waist, mostly to hide my laugh. She hisses something about behaving again, but I don’t hear her. I’m too preoccupied with watching Avery clean a comb.

Her lips are redder than they were earlier. And maybe it’s just the shift in the sunlight coming through the windows, or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve had a few more minutes to admire—ogle—the beauty before me. But there’s one thing that needs no clarification or second-guessing: I’m in lust. Pure unadulterated lust.

Avery has captivated my attention. I don’t know what that fucking means, but I’m here for it.

“You ready?” she asks with her hands on her hips.

“Definitely.”

“Come grab a seat.”

Yes, ma’am.





CHAPTER FOUR

AVERY

I swivel the chair in his direction.

The room is warmer than it was a few minutes ago. I wonder if there’s a thermostat I could adjust, but the closer Penn gets to me, the more I wonder if it’s not just him.

He has the “boy next door” thing going on that I remember so clearly from before. It’s a friendly, “you can trust me” output of energy that makes me relax. But now it’s mixed with a swagger, a smoldering vibe that’s not even fair.

His long legs stretch out in front of him after he settles in my chair. The jeans he’s wearing are dark with scratches in the denim. There’s not a damn thing about them that should make my mouth water, but it does.

“You ready to get this?” he asks cheekily. His pun is ill disguised, thanks to the grin that sinks deeper into his cheeks.

I raise a brow as I fight to keep from smiling.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re absolutely right,” I say. “Let’s get to the inevitable.”

“Sounds perfect.” He digs his fingers into the vinyl chair. “What exactly are you thinking? I’m up for anything, just so you know.”

I want to laugh, to ask him if this methodology works for him with other women. This overt offer to basically hook up. Something tells me it does.

Something also tells me it’s not going to work for him this time.

As I take a step back and let my eyes run up and down his body, I kind of wish it would. He looks like a lot of fun. And it would be interesting to see how much he’s changed from the uncertain, not-super-skilled teenager I was with the last time. But smooth talkers with killer smiles don’t do it for me anymore.