Tangle (Dogwood Lane 2)

“Hush, Doughnut Thief,” I say, shushing him with a wave of my hand. “Then I couldn’t make coffee because the town flushed the water lines yesterday and the water is still red. And then, because it just keeps getting better, I get a call from Sandra at the library, asking me to come in today, and I’m praying like heck it has nothing to do with the rumors that we’re having budget cuts.” I take a lungful of air. “I’m over today, and it’s not even really started yet.”

“Ouch,” the man says, taking my need for oxygen as a cue to add his opinion. “That is a rough morning.”

“Oh, it gets better,” I insist, feeling my blood shoot through my veins. “Then Joel sent me a text.”

Claire’s brows shoot to the ceiling. “Joel the Hippie?”

“Stop calling him that.”

“That’s what Dane called him the entire time you dated him,” she says.

“You dated a hippie?” the man asks. “That’s surprising.”

I glare at him. “Want to know what’s surprising? I’ve managed to act like a lady and haven’t taken that doughnut right off your plate. That’s surprising.”

He chuckles.

“This isn’t funny.” I bounce in my seat, trying not to beg while also trying not to snatch the pastry. It’s not so much I need the doughnut itself; it’s that I need the comfort of the carbs that will remind me of my mother’s homemade cinnamon rolls and give me the illusion that everything is going to be okay. “My life is falling apart.”

Ignoring my puppy-dog eyes, he digs his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. His fingers fly against the screen.

I take a moment to study him from the side. The light catches his neatly trimmed, sandy-brown hair. His face is freshly shaved, and I wonder vaguely what he would look like with a good three-day stubble.

For a moment, the doughnut is forgotten. In its place is a thought as delicious as the caramel icing—of the taste of the thief’s lips against mine. My little daydream is halted when he slips his phone back into his pocket.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks Claire.

“A doughnut and coffee is four eighty-six,” she says.

He fishes a ten-dollar bill from his wallet and places it on the counter. “Pay for her coffee, too, and then keep the change. Can I get this coffee to go, though?”

“Sure thing,” Claire says.

She strolls to the cash register, leaving the thief and me alone. I struggle to fight the grin splitting my cheeks.

“Did you just buy my coffee?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“You know what goes good with coffee . . .” I look at his plate and then back to him. All he does is laugh.

He gets to his feet, unfolding a body that’s taller, and harder, than I expected. His jeans are coupled with a gray-and-black flannel that fits him well enough that I can see the lines of his body. The curve of his biceps, the dip of his waist, and the slight angle from his shoulder to his neck are divine.

“Are you finished?” he asks.

I zip a line from his boots to his face. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to walk out of here until you’ve finished appreciating me.” He grins. “If you’re done, I do need to go.”

A full-on blush covers my body, and when he laughs, I wonder if he’s thinking it’s the same color as my panties. This makes me blush more.

“You are not the gentleman I hoped you were,” I say.

He smiles devilishly, assessing me as he shoves his wallet back into his pocket. Then, with a pained expression and a dose of hesitation for my benefit, he slides his plate in front of me. “Here. You can have my doughnut. I know it’s not all you wanted, but it’ll have to do. I’m late.” He takes a cup from Claire for the road.

“I didn’t hear anything you said after, ‘You can have my doughnut,’” I say, sticking my finger in the middle of the pastry. “But thanks.”

“They have forks, you know.”

“I know. But I wanted to make sure you didn’t ask for it back.” A warmth spreads through my middle as he smiles. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re very welcome, Ohio.” He heads to the door but stops before exiting. Looking at me over his shoulder, he narrows his eyes. The feel of his attention on me changes. It gets heavier. Not uncomfortable, but it makes me squirm nonetheless. “I’m Trevor Kelly, by the way. What’s your name?”

“I’m Haley.” My voice is breathier than I intend or expect, and if I weren’t still flushed from getting caught staring at him, I might blush again. “Haley Raynor.”

“It was nice to meet you.” His features soften as he steps into the sunlight. “Oh. If I didn’t mention it, you owe me for the doughnut.”

And with a final grin that sinks me into my seat, he’s gone.