Tangle (Dogwood Lane 2)

“This place is pretty small,” I say. “We’ve run into each other four times today.”

“Because you’re stalking me.”

I grin. “Maybe I’ll stalk you tomorrow and get my jacket back.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but doesn’t finish taking it off either.

“Go on,” I press. “Get in your car so I can get in mine and leave. I don’t have a jacket and I’m freezing.”

She pulls the jacket around her as a soft smile graces her lips. “I’ll leave it at the café if I don’t see you tomorrow, okay?”

Despite the cold temperature, my body hums with a warmth that’s hard to identify. There’s no way I won’t try to see her tomorrow, and I’m pretty sure she won’t hide from running into me either. As insane as it sounds to be happy about this, I am.

“You do that. Now hurry up. I can’t leave until I know you’re in your car with the doors locked.”

She shakes her head but turns toward her car. “This is Dogwood Lane, you know. Nothing bad happens here.”

“You just jinxed the whole town, Haley. Good work.”

Her laughter hangs in the air even after her door closes. I swear I can still hear it as I pull out behind her and turn the opposite way.

CHAPTER EIGHT

HALEY

Yuck.”

I toss the toast with grape jelly into the trash. The single bite sitting in my stomach feels like too much, and coupled with the ice cream I ate entirely too late last night when I couldn’t sleep, it probably is too much.

That’s what happens when my brain is too busy to let me sleep. I stay up and snack and wake up feeling gross.

Brushing my hands off over the sink, I gaze out the window. The sky is bright and clear. High, wispy clouds float by, allowing sunshine to filter through the trees.

The music playing on my computer changes songs. I do my best rendition of the cha-cha as I wipe the counter off with a damp rag, singing along to a tune I really don’t know the words to.

Tossing the rag in the sink, I stop at my computer perched on the counter. Two tabs are open. The first has a listing of jobs in the area. The second has a list of degrees offered at the community college in Rockery, the next town over. I’ve toggled between the two of them all morning, trying to see if my gut will tell me which way to go. Besides churning with chocolate–peanut butter ice cream, it’s relatively silent . . . except when I think about Sandra’s comment about the flower shop. I made a decision last night to check it out today. It can’t hurt.

My gaze rolls over the tiny kitchen. When the chairs are pulled out from the table, there’s no room to walk. It’s cozy and warm and perfect for me and Mia when she’s around. The Realtor couldn’t believe it was a selling point when I bought the place; she was fully expecting to have to try to gloss over the fact it was so small.

Trevor’s jacket sits on the back of one of the chairs. I laugh out loud, thinking of the way it hung nearly to my knees and how I tripped coming into the house last night. My mind wants to keep going, circling around to the way he teased me in line at Graber’s, but I stop myself.

I pick up the notepad I had last night. Between the rows of flowers I doodled while watching a travel show on television is a list of things I love. Coffee. Doughnuts. Books. Flowers. Naps. Well-defined abs. Trevor’s cologne.

“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “Not going there. Let’s focus on . . .” I scan the other side of the sheet—the one with more practical things listed—and ignore the burn in my belly. “A résumé. I need one, and I don’t know how to do that.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I set the notepad down and grab it. “Hello?”

“Are you busy?” Claire asks.

“Hello to you too.”

“Hi. Hello, Haley. How is your morning, love?”

I laugh at her antics. “Oh, shut up. What’s going on?”

“Is there any way in the universe you can bring me a hair tie?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No,” she whines. “This one is about to snap. I feel it, and I can’t leave and grab another one because I’m the only one here for an hour or so. If this sucker breaks, I’ll have to use one of the thick rubber bands in the office, and those get stuck in my hair and I have to rip them out and it hurts. Hey, can you hang on for a second?”

“Sure.”

My heartbeat picks up as I slide my arms into Trevor’s jacket. I burrow into the fleece lining, dragging in a lungful of air that washes a warmth to my cheeks. It smells like him, all masculine and divine. My thighs ache as I grab my keys off the table and a hair tie out of my purse and make my way out the door.