Tangle (Dogwood Lane 2)

“Yeah. Sure.” He cocks his head to the side. “What do you think you’ll do from here?”

“Heck if I know. That’s why I said I have a lot of thinking to do. The world is my oyster, even though I don’t really understand that analogy.”

He smiles brightly. “Well, if you’ve read The Merry Wives of Windsor, Shakespeare uses it to mean taking what you want by force or violence.”

“And how did you know that?”

He laughs, pointing at himself. “Nerd. Remember?”

He gazes into the distance. I gaze at him. There’s something even sexier about him now, something I can’t quite shake.

Something that completely and utterly rules out me going anywhere alone with him right now.

“You’re staring again.”

I jump at his voice. “I wasn’t staring,” I lie. “I was thinking about something else.”

“Oh, I’m sure you were.”

“Actually,” I say, thinking on my feet, “I was pondering this new chapter in my life.”

He glances in his rearview mirror. A car pulls into the parking lot but takes a spot behind him. He turns his attention back to me and studies me for a long time, the weight of his attention on me almost cozy.

“What’s your biggest dream?” he asks out of nowhere.

“I don’t know. What’s yours?”

His forehead creases as he pops his bottom lip between his teeth. He works it back and forth for a minute. “I think I’m living it. As lame as that sounds.”

“Why?” I press.

“I’m my own boss, more or less. I deal with numbers all day. I work with my brother. Sometimes I get to go outside and play in the dirt.” He grins an easy, simple-yet-heated smile that turns my core into mush. “Sometimes I run into beautiful women who refuse to have dinner with me. Now your turn.”

I swallow, trying to wrangle my wits from his grasp. “I’m not sure, to be honest. But you know what? I do need to go.”

There’s a cloud that passes over his eyes. It dims the sparkle only for a moment, but it’s long enough for me to notice.

My stomach flops, wishing I could climb into his truck and continue this conversation. But what’s the point in that?

“Fine,” he teases, the light back in his eyes again. “Your loss.”

Probably so.

I smack his arm, my palm connecting with his wrist. A giggle escapes my lips but gently rolls away as our eyes meet.

My hand drops to my side, still warm from the contact. I clear my throat.

“So,” he says, clearing his, too, “when I rolled in, I saw a sign for the Dogwood Inn. Is that open?”

“Yeah. It’s open most of the year. I bet you can find a room. Just plan on 1980s decor. It’s way old school in there.”

His eyes go wide. “What are my other options?”

“Drive about twenty minutes back the way you came into town and stay there.” I shrug. “We have one place here. Just be glad it’s not hunting season. You’d be out of luck.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” I open my door and stick my keys in the ignition. “If you stay in town, just remember that everything closes before ten o’clock. If you need food or whatever, grab it while you can. And,” I say, getting into my car, “if Lorene offers you a slice of pie, take it.”

He puts his truck in drive. “Is that an innuendo?”

I snort. “Tell you what—you meet Lorene and then decide what I meant.”

“Are you setting me up?”

I just laugh, imagining his face when he meets the ninety-year-old church pianist at the inn.

He leans out the window ever so slightly, his hand extended my way. “Are you sure I can’t take you for some ice cream? Or pizza? Or whatever? All joking aside, I feel like you’ve had a rough day, and I just don’t want you going home and feeling like crap.”

My heartbeat picks up. The cab of my car feels overly warm as I sit beneath his gaze. “I’m sure. Thank you for offering, though.”

His lips part as if he’s going to say something, but they close. He switches his sight onto something in front of him before looking back at me again. “Drive like you have some sense.”

“Try to go the speed limit.”

He shakes his head and pulls away.

CHAPTER SIX

HALEY

Do you want to take some of this home?” Dane asks. He holds up the pan half-full of lasagna. “Neely made enough to feed a small army. We have more than enough left.”

“I’m so full that I never want to see lasagna again,” I say, rubbing my stomach. “It was really good, Neely.”

She beams. “Thank you. It’s my mom’s recipe. It makes a mess of the kitchen, but it’s worth it.”

“That’s why you have Mia,” I say, elbowing the little girl in the side. “Make her clean it up.”

“Hey,” Mia protests. “I have homework to do.”

Dane tugs her ponytail as he walks by. “Then you better put Haley’s phone down and get upstairs and do it. Otherwise, start rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.”