Tumble (Dogwood Lane, #1)(37)
Sincerely,
Neely Kimber
I hit “Send,” put the car in drive, and head down the street, looking back only once.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NEELY
So anyway, he has a brother.” Grace chomps on a carrot in my ear. “And I might’ve perused his social media last night, and let me just go ahead and let you know you’re welcome.”
“Let me guess: Dark hair. Blue eyes. Between six foot and six foot four? White-collar job with at least a master’s degree. Briefs, not boxers.”
She gasps. “How’d you know?”
I laugh. “Because you always pick out that type for me.”
“It’s what you like.”
A blue truck rolls up to the front of Aerial’s and parks a few spots away from me. Dane gives me a little wave as his boots hit the asphalt.
I switch the phone between my hands so Grace doesn’t hear if I suck in a breath or otherwise make note of the way my heart is racing. I don’t need that conversation.
“That’s not my type at all,” I tell her, taking in the way Dane’s jeans hug his thighs. “You got me all wrong, friend.”
“I know you better than you know you.”
Dane turns from the sidewalk up the walkway. As he nears, I’m less and less inclined to listen to Grace and more apt to watch Dane move.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since I left his house last night. Considering the conversation we had, I should be detaching. There’s no point in meddling around with ideas about what his house looks like inside or if I’d still feel like I’m floating if he kisses me behind my ear. Nope. None of that is helpful.
But all of that is true.
“Hey,” Dane says, giving me a lopsided grin as he breezes by.
“Hi.”
“Who was that?” Grace barks. “Come back here. Talk to me.”
“Will you hush?” I hiss into the phone.
“Who was that? Was it Dane?”
I take a few steps away from the entrance as a couple of mothers and daughters exit. “Yes. It was.”
“Well, not to be creepy or anything, but I looked him up online. I don’t know how to say this, Neely, but he’s freaking hot.”
“I know.” I moan. “I hate him for it.”
“Don’t hate him for it. Fuck him for it.”
I kick at a pebble, my lower stomach clenching at the mere suggestion. “It’s not like that.”
“Why?” she deadpans. “Explain to me why it’s not like that. From here, it looks very like that.”
“Because.”
“Words, Neely. Use them.”
I switch the phone between my hands again, catching it as it slips off my sweaty palms in the transfer. Once it’s nestled between my ear and shoulder, I sigh. “Look, he and I have a history together that isn’t . . . wonderful. I’ve told you that. But I was talking to him last night, and—”
“Like you ran into him in a cornfield or like you had dinner?”
“I went to his house. Uninvited,” I add as she begins howling through the line. “I went to say I was sorry for being rude. That’s it.”
“Do you know how many men’s houses or apartments I’ve just showed up to randomly? None. The answer is none.”
“Because you date men who are unavailable.”
“So you’re dating Dane?” she goads.
“No. Ugh.” I blow out a breath. “He isn’t dating because he doesn’t want his daughter to get hurt.”
“That’s so sexy.”
“I know.”
I kick at another pebble. It rolls down the sidewalk and into a pile of dirt near a dandelion. It had a softer landing than I’m going to have.
Another mother and daughter exit the gym, and I find myself waiting to see if Dane and Mia come out next. They don’t. My shoulders sag.
“Any chance you’ll be back before the weekend?” Grace asks. “I have an extra ticket to a show on Broadway.”
“No, but I forgot to tell you. I scored an interview with Archon Sports.”
“I love it,” she chirps. “That would be a good fit for you, I think. They’re really cutting-edge on a lot of things industry-wise. I bet you could work your way in and make a name for yourself.”
“I hope so.”
“Me too. But, dude, I gotta go. I have an article due in the morning, and I’m about twenty percent done.”
“I’m jealous.”
“Only you would be jealous of work.” She laughs. “I’m off to order takeout and get some words down. Call me later and tell me what happens with Archon. And Dane. Really Dane. That’s what I want to know.”
“Nothing is happening with Dane,” I insist. “I’m leaving here by next weekend. What would be the point?”
“You are lame. Lame, lame, lame.”
“Goodbye, Grace.”
“Bye.”
I tuck my phone back in my pocket and spin on my heel to see Dane and Mia coming out of the gym. Wide smiles split their cheeks, and I wonder if it’s their grins making me grin or vice versa.
“Why didn’t we get you as our coach?” Mia asks.