Tumble (Dogwood Lane 1)

“I have to jet to the back and help pack up an order for the fire department.” She hands Dane a cup. “This one’s for you. And this one,” she says, turning to me, “must be for you.”

“I didn’t order anything yet. I do want a cup of coffee, though. Black, please.”

She bites her lip. “Coffee. Black.” Nodding toward the cup, she extends her hand again. “Dane ordered it for you. Or I guess it was for you.”

I glance at Dane. He nods, tossing me a little smile that throws me. My insides flop like a fish out of water, one direction one second, another the next. My attention flips to him in an unguarded moment.

He takes a sip of his drink—coffee with two sugars and one creamer, if he still takes it the same as before. To anyone watching, he’d seem cool and collected. I, however, see the fire hidden in his eyes. Feel the heat in his gaze. Hear the questions sitting on his tongue.

The last time we saw each other came with a finality that was as hard to accept as it was necessary. It came with more pain than anything I’ve ever endured on the gymnastics floor or in the business world. All the reasons why come flooding back as I feel him burn through my defenses.

Forcing a swallow, I make myself look at Claire. “How much is it?”

“Stick it on my tab,” Dane says.

“No. I’ll pay for it.” I put my hand into my pocket.

“If you think I’m taking your money when he’s standing there, you’ve forgotten where you are, Neely. I’m not getting on his bad side over a cup of coffee.” She shrugs. “Now take this. I need to get to the kitchen.”

She shoves the cup into my hand.

“Um, thanks,” I say, still uncertain whether to accept it. “Let me at least give you a tip.”

“I add ten percent on Dane’s bill every month. No worries.” She winks, moving to miss Dane’s shoulder bump. “Will you be in town long? I want to catch up.”

“Probably not. A couple of days at most.”

“Well, I’ll find you.” She glances toward the kitchen. “I really do gotta go. Talk to you soon.”

“Okay. Bye, Claire,” I say, giving her a little wave.

With each step she takes away from us, the air grows thicker. I used to know without looking when Dane walked into biology class. I swore the air changed. Standing this close to him now, I believe my assessment back then was probably true. The space around him is charged with some invisible, magnetic energy I can’t describe but that pricks at the very fiber of my being.

Jerk.

“Thank you for the coffee,” I say, finding my voice. “I will say I’m kind of surprised you remembered how I like it.”

“Not a big deal.”

My stomach flutters like a teenage girl’s, and I try to override the sensation and remind myself I’m a grown woman. A capable woman. A smart one—a smart enough one not to be dazzled by his smirk.

He’s a couple of steps away, but it feels as if he’s right up against me. My shirt clings to my chest, the air so warm my lungs almost refuse it.

He twists his Dodgers cap backward. As if I need more of a reason for my heartbeat to go wild, I get a better look at his face. His skin is tanned, a couple of days’ worth of stubble scattered on his cheeks. Under his left eye is a purplish mar, and I can only begin to imagine where that came from.

“How have you been?” he asks, tapping his thumb against the side of his cup.

“Great.”

“Where you living these days?”

“New York,” I say, wishing I’d prepared more for this scenario. As I stand in front of him, I mentally smack myself for not thinking this through.

“New York? Nice.”

“Yeah. I love it there. What about you? How have you been?”

“Doing good. Been working on a house up on Zion’s Hill. Some lawyer from Nashville bought it and is completely redoing the whole place. About done with it, though.”

“Carpentry?”

His lips purse and he nods.

“Took after your dad, after all.”

We exchange a soft, genuine smile. The mention of his father settles over the ball of frayed nerves in my stomach, softening it a touch.

I always loved Nick Madden. He worked hard, was kind of a hard-ass, but was as sweet as pie when you got to know him. He loved me too. He taught me how to change the oil in my car and to throw a punch—just in case I ever needed to know.

“How is he?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t.

“Same. Busting my ass all the time.”

“You probably need it.” I grin, ignoring the ease of the words. “There are worse things than taking after him, you know.”

“I kind of fell into it.” Dane shrugs, bringing a hand to his cheek and sliding it over his chin. A yellow-and-green bracelet is wrapped around his wrist, the colors emulating the hues of his eyes. “Got laid off at the mill a few years back. Didn’t really have a choice. But I kind of like it.”