Tangle (Dogwood Lane 2)

My wallet gets jolted a little harder than necessary as I realize how pointless wearing my pretty panties is today. No one will see them but me. That’s what I get for making some stupid deal with my cousin Dane that I won’t date for six months.

It’s for my own good, I remind myself as I sling a tube of lip balm against my wallet. The guys I pick are completely wrong for me.

A muscled forearm extends across the bar, taking a cup of coffee from Claire. “Thank you,” he says.

Hands still stuck in my purse, I look at Claire.

She grins. “Did you say you wanted coffee?”

I clear my throat, trying to ignore the pull of energy from the man beside me. “Yes, please. I’ll take it with me.”

She scoops up the doughnut. As soon as she’s gone, the room seems to shrink. Fidgeting in my seat, knowing this guy just saw me in a very unflattering position, I start to stand.

“You aren’t from around here either, I take it,” he says before I can execute my plan to flee. “I mean, with your accent and all.”

I consider pretending he isn’t talking to me and ignoring him altogether, but that would be rude. And as things are going, his voice might be the highlight of my day. So I sit again.

“You mean I don’t sound like I’m from Tennessee?” I ask, still not looking at him. “I’m shocked. I thought I had my drawl down pat.”

He chuckles. “Sorry. You sound very midwestern, if I was guessing.”

“Good call. I’m from Ohio. I’ve lived here a long time, though . . .” The words drift away, along with all coherent thought, as my gaze is snatched out of thin air. Despite ascertaining from Claire’s reaction that he’s cute, I’m wholly unprepared for the delicious package in front of me.

Staring back at me are the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re the color of the sky on a winter day—crystal clear and bright. His brows are heavy, his lashes thick, and if I could find my voice, I’d compliment them.

Smooth, tanned skin is highlighted by a brilliant white smile. A sturdy jaw is softened by laugh lines at the corners of his full lips. There’s confidence in his posture that somehow absorbs my shock, and the kindness in his smile puts me at ease.

“Ohio, huh?” he says. “I’m a Michigan fan. I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

“I’m not a sports fan. I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

His grin grows wider. “Fair enough.”

What’s not fair is how I can’t remember what I’m doing here or what I have to do after. I untangle my gaze from his just in time to see Claire coming around the corner with my doughnut on a plate. Just like that, everything comes rushing back.

I didn’t realize my shoulders had relaxed or the throb in my temple had eased, but I’m well aware when they slam back into me again.

“Did I forget to tell you I wanted that to go?” I ask, rubbing the side of my head.

“You told me,” she says. She sets the plate down in front of him.

“Hey,” I say, pointing at the plate. “That’s mine.”

He looks at the doughnut and then at me. I fully expect him to slide the plate my way. There’s not a part of me, not a piece the size of one of those candied pecans, that thinks he won’t.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he smirks.

“At the risk of you stabbing me with a fork, I beg to differ.” He then tells Claire, “This looks delicious. Thank you.”

“You are so welcome,” Claire purrs.

I glare at my friend. “You can’t give that to him because he’s cute, Claire.”

“Hey now,” he interrupts with a furrowed brow. “I’m not sure I like ‘cute.’ Ruggedly handsome? Roguishly attractive, maybe?”

“Thief?” I offer.

He lifts his fork like he’s taunting me but, proving not to be a total daredevil, doesn’t touch the doughnut.

“Um, maybe I gave it to him because he ordered it first,” Claire offers. “Get ahold of yourself, Haley.”

That’s it.

“Get ahold of myself?” The dam holding back the irritation that’s been building all morning breaks in a spectacular display. I half stand and half sit on the stool and fire away at my friend. “Do you even know what’s happened to me this morning, Claire?”

“No.”

“Let me fill you in,” I say through clenched teeth. “A smoke detector started chirping at four o’clock this morning because the battery went bad, despite changing them last week. Okay? And I was too short to reach it without climbing on a chair, and because it was four a.m. and I hadn’t had coffee, I fell. Hit my knee, bumped my elbow, and I cried. Because I’m a baby.”

Claire bites her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Then—”

“Hold up,” he says.