Tangle (Dogwood Lane 2)

Claire slides my card back to me. “Trevor paid for yours. Remember?”

His name elicits a shiver that runs down my spine. “Well, if nothing else good happens today, a hot guy bought my breakfast. I’ll take it.”

“You definitely made a better impression than I did,” Claire says.

“Why? Did you say something super ridiculous before I got here?”

“Like telling him he charmed my panties right off me? Or how his smile made me want to strip in the middle of this diner?”

I cringe. “You didn’t.”

“No,” she scoffs. “I didn’t. Have a little faith, will you?”

“I seem to remember a weekend in Nashville where you did try to strip in the middle of a bar while shouting how the bartender made you want to . . .” I grin. “What was it? Come—”

“Stop,” she says, flustered. “We don’t need to remember that.”

“Oh, I think we do.”

“That was the tequila. Not me.”

“So what about the time in Memphis when we—”

She waves me off. “Point made.”

“Okay. So why do you think you made a bad impression?”

Claire’s forearms rest on the bar as she looks at me. “I didn’t say that, exactly. I just said you made a better one.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I say with a snort. “I unknowingly sashayed my butt in his face. I begged him for his breakfast and called him a thief. That’s a five-star impression right there.”

“I think he found you . . . interesting.”

“Probably unforgettable, and not for reasons I’d choose if I had the option.” I stick my card in my wallet. “Oh well. Can’t win them all, right?”

My friend shoves off the bar. Her head cocks to the side. There’s something on her lips that she’s afraid to say.

“When you look at me like that,” I tell her, “I get scared.”

“I was just thinking he’s the kind of guy I could see you with.”

I grab my coffee and take a long drink. Putting the cup between us helps a little, like it gives me a tiny bit of distance from her crazy yet tempting ideas.

She watches me pointedly ignore her. When I don’t resume the conversation, she slides my plate away.

In a flash, I pull it back to me again to swipe the last of the caramel icing with my finger. “One—I’m on a hiatus.”

“So?”

“So I’m not dating anyone. And two, I’ll never see him again unless our coffee-and-doughnut urges and locations match up. That’s highly unlikely. And three, if anyone would have a shot with him, it would be you.”

She bursts into a fit of laughter that confuses me.

“Why are you laughing?” I ask.

“He didn’t look at me like he wanted to smear that icing on my nipples and lick it off.”

“Claire!”

She crosses her arms over her chest, completely undeterred. “It’s true.”

I squirm in my seat. The picture she painted is enough to make me want to go home and take a cold shower. But as I hear his laugh echo through my mind and wonder how rough or gentle his touch would be, I snap back to reality.

“I’ll give you that he’s gorgeous,” I say.

“And sexy.”

“And charming,” I add.

“And he seems intelligent.”

“And he can be kind,” I admit, tapping the plate with my knuckle.

“So? What’s the problem?” Claire asks.

I look at her. “That. All of it. That’s the problem.”

“For someone as smart as you, you’re making no sense here.”

Of course it makes no sense to her. It doesn’t even make sense to me until I sit down and really am honest with myself. But when I am, I know I’d fall so in love with a guy like Trevor Kelly my head would spin.

I sigh. “I fell in love with Joel. And Henry. And Marcus. And however many before them. Things would not go well with Trevor, even if he were interested, which he’s not. And if I were in the mind-set to want to hook up with someone, which I’m not . . .” My phone buzzes in my purse. I fish it out. A text sits on the screen from Dane.

“I gotta go,” I say, getting to my feet.

Claire looks up as the door chimes. “I’ll be right with you.” She glances back to me. “Call me tonight. We can head to Mucker’s for pizza.”

“Will do, unless I lose my job today.”

“Don’t think like that,” she says. “They probably want to give you a promotion.”

I give her a smile for the compliment and head to the door.

“And if Trevor Kelly wants to be repaid for that doughnut, you better follow through,” she calls after me.

“Bye, Claire.” I step into the sunlight, feeling a little lighter than I did when I walked in. A gorgeous man—whom I’ll never see again—gave me his doughnut today. Life is good.

CHAPTER THREE

TREVOR

This is going to be interesting.”

My words drift through the cab of my truck as I wait for a pickup loaded with hay to go through the intersection. Bales are stacked in the bed higher than the cab, held in place with only a few straps. The driver gives me a wave as he drives by, and I return the gesture, wondering if waving is a thing here. Because everyone does it. Every single person.