Tumble (Dogwood Lane, #1)(48)

“So a little birdie told me you were caught kissing a certain someone at church yesterday.”

“A little birdie, huh?” I look at the sky. “That’s interesting.”

“I think it’s very interesting. And exciting,” she almost squeals. “And I’m kind of annoyed I’m getting information from a child. I thought we were better friends than that.”

“Do you call me every time you kiss a guy? Wait. Don’t answer that.”

She laughs. “Yes, I do. Or I at least tell you the next time I see you.”

“And this is the next time I’m seeing you,” I point out.

“You were going to tell me?”

“No.”

She goes on a mini rant about how I should’ve told her, how she feels like she basically wished us together, and how I’m now holding out. I head to my truck, hoping she’ll get distracted by Penn.

Things never happen when you want them to.

She chases me down the slope and continues to rail me.

I’ve fought this very topic for the last almost twenty-four hours. There’s no way to deny the excitement in my stomach or how perfectly Neely still fits in my arms. Forgetting the sweetness of her breath, the softness of her lips, is impossible, and I’ve replayed the moments with her since Mia and I pulled away from the church.

My initial worry was Mia. She seems to be taking it better than I am.

“What does this mean?” Haley asks.

I open the driver’s-side door of my truck and sit in the cab. She leans against the door, basically blocking me in.

“This means you’re trying to trap me in here and shake me down for information,” I say.

“Of course that’s what this means. I meant, what does the kiss mean?”

“You look into things too much.”

“I won’t deny that. But when you slip up and kiss a woman in front of Mia, a woman I know you have feelings for, that means something.”

I could argue this. Tell her Mia got it wrong or that it was a friendly sort of thing. I could lie to her until I’m blue in the face, and it wouldn’t matter. She’ll press on until she gets what she wants. The trouble is—what do I want?

I lay in bed all night and mulled over that question. What do I want? What can I want? I’ve been with a few women since Sara, but those relationships have been a hookup here and there. Nothing that had a stickiness to last more than a few months. They were flings, moments in time, and the women knew it.

It’s not that way with Neely. I don’t think of her and wonder where I can meet her for a quickie. I don’t forget about her while I’m hanging trim and remember her only when she calls my phone. I sure as hell don’t think of other women since she came back.

She fit right back into that spot—her spot—in my life. I think of her when I’m brushing my teeth. I wonder what it would be like to wake up with her in the morning and how it would feel to have her sitting with Mia and me at the dinner table. All the things that will only set me up for pain later because she has no interest in sticking around.

I’m eaten up with this shit. I’m no better than the teenage version of myself who overthought everything. Neely isn’t someone I can gamble with. There’s no kissing and forgetting. There’s only wanting more. Needing more. Desiring more.

And not being able to have it.

I don’t know what to do with that.

“You ignoring me?” Penn comes up to the truck, his gaze set on Haley. “My feelings are hurt.”

“How are you, Penn?” She gives him a quick once-over. “You look hot.”

Penn’s jaw drops. “I’ve waited for this moment for years.”

“No, really. Make sure you drink enough so you don’t dehydrate.”

He bites back a smile as I laugh. Haley laughs, too, but I can see she feels a little bad about teasing him.

“Seriously,” she says. “How are you, Penn?”

“You’re here. I’d say I’m more than decent right about now.”

“I’d say you were more than decent a few hours ago.” She points at his neck. “Was she blonde?”

“Was who blonde?”

“Whoever left that lipstick on your neck. It’s a bluish red, so I figured she’s probably fair headed.”

I burst out laughing as Penn clamps a hand on his neck. Haley holds her hands up by her sides and shrugs.

“You’re so predictable,” she says.

“That wasn’t lipstick. It was paint.”

“It wasn’t Claire’s night off last night, was it?” I ask. “She wears a lot of red lipstick.”

Penn plays it off like the playboy he is. “Don’t listen to him, Haley. I’m all about you right now.”

“I know you are. And in a few minutes, when you realize this is going nowhere, you’ll be about someone else. That’s the beauty of you, Penn.”

Penn looks at me. “Was that a compliment? Should I take it like one?”

“No.” I laugh. “No to both.”

“Fine, but the option is there. You need someone to keep you warm at night, I’m your man.”

Haley takes a step toward me, wagging her finger in the air. “About that . . .”