Tumble (Dogwood Lane 1)

Standing on the pavers, looking at a table of faces I love so much, all I can do is smile.

“Look who it is.” Matt’s voice rings out above the music playing in the little overhead speakers. His face splits with a wide, handsome grin. “It’s a good thing you showed up.”

“Or what?” I tease. “What were you going to do about it?”

He scoots his chair back and heads my way. Claire, Penn, Dane, and a couple of our other friends are watching us from the table.

“I was giving you until tomorrow, and then I was coming to find you.” Matt’s arms spread and I fall into them with no hesitation. “How are ya, Nee?”

“Good,” I say. My entire body relaxes against him. “How are you?”

“As handsome as ever.” He winks as he pulls back.

“That’s the truth. I’ve been all over this country and have failed to find a guy as handsome as you,” I joke.

“That’s about right.” His chest rumbles as he chuckles. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”

He takes his thumb and rubs it on my forehead, right between my eyes. It’s something he started in fifth grade when Penn hit me in the face with a spitball. As I screamed on the playground and threatened Penn within an inch of his life, Matt came to my rescue. Or so I thought. He wiped the area with his thumb to quiet me down, and then, as I stopped yelling and almost felt better, he whispered in my ear he was really rubbing it in.

I kicked him in the shin.

I also opened the door that afternoon to find Matt and his older brother, Dane, on my doorstep so he could apologize. Matt muttered through his apology while I wondered why my stomach felt like it was full of butterflies as I stared at the taller, slightly lighter version of the boy who tormented me. I may have forgotten about the spitball and what Matt’s “sorry speech” entailed, but I never lost the butterflies.

“Okay, okay,” Penn says, gripping my shoulder. “My turn.” He spins me to face him, and then, before I know it, I’m lifted off the ground.

“Penn!” I laugh as he turns a circle with me in his arms. “You’re a brat. Put me down.”

“I’m a brat? What’s that make you? The girl who jets off to the big city and forgets all about us.” He sets me back on my feet. “I’ll be a little pissed at you about that for the rest of my life. Just so we’re clear.”

“Forget about you?” I tilt my head and bat my lashes. “How could I forget about the Penn Etling?”

The corner of his lip lifts, a dimple settling deep in his cheek. “Well, that’s what I was thinking. Forget these other fuckers, fine. But me? Kinda hard to believe.”

Matt shoves his shoulder, knocking Penn off-balance. They both laugh, their carefree lilts caressing me and warming me in a way that starts on the inside—somewhere deep in my chest. The spot amps up a few degrees when I catch Dane’s gaze. Before either of us can absorb it, our attention is drawn to the commotion beside me.

“Damn you!” Matt groans as Penn grabs him around the head. They start a friendly skirmish, bumping a table as they wrestle for control.

“Those two never grew up,” Claire says, coming up beside me.

“What would be the fun in that? Ow!” Matt grimaces, his face turning red. Penn’s hefty forearm is clenched just below Matt’s chin. “Stop. It. You. Ow!”

Penn lets go. Matt staggers a few steps, his hands on his knees and his face beet red. Penn brushes his hands off.

“Made quick work of that.” He laughs. “Now I need a beer.”

“You’re buying me one now,” Matt tells him. He and Penn head to the table, waving for me to follow. Claire and I watch them go.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she admits once the boys are out of earshot.

“I almost didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Well . . .” Quickly scanning the area, I shoot my gaze right over Dane. My heart strums in my chest. Standing near him is like a shot of adrenaline right to my veins. “A lot of reasons, I guess.”

“Although I can’t fathom what better things you had to do on a Friday night besides coming to Mucker’s and hanging out with us, I’m glad you made the right choice.”

The patio floods with our friends’ laughter, and I can’t help my grin. “Me too. What can it hurt, right?”

“Nothing, as long as you can manage not to combust. The way Dane is looking at you . . .” A sculpted brow shoots to the sky. “I’m just saying.” She holds her hands between us in defense before giggling and turning toward the table.

“Don’t make me regret this, Claire!”

My request is met with a full-bellied laugh.