Tangle (Dogwood Lane 2) - Page 1
CHAPTER ONE
HALEY
Tell me you have one.” My purse hits the counter with a loud, unceremonious thud. “I’m in desperate need of a caramel-topped doughnut. Bonus points if it’s cream-filled. Double bonus points if there are pecans on top.”
My friend Claire looks at me from across the bar of the Dogwood Café. “That good of a morning, huh?”
“Something like that.” The stool squeaks as I sit. The sound rips at my temple, adding to the frustration of the start to my day. “I’m going to need the biggest cup of coffee you can find too.”
“The coffee I can do. The doughnut, though. That’s going to be a problem.”
“Come on, Claire,” I say, sniffing the air. “You have one. I smell it.”
“You can’t smell it.”
“You underestimate me and my senses.”
She glances under the counter. Her attention settles on a spot near the end of the bar, where the doughnuts are kept beneath a heavy glass dome. They’re a specialty at the Dogwood Café—handmade pieces of pure joy created by the owner’s wife.
I live for these things. So does Claire, and the look in her eye tells me one of my favorites is left. The problem is, they’re her favorite too.
“I’ll jump the bar and get it myself,” I warn.
Her laugh is loud, filling the mostly vacant dining room. “There’s one left, but—”
“No buts. None,” I say, talking fast so she can’t interrupt me. “I. Need. That. Doughnut. Today has gotten off totally on the wrong foot, and I need something to smile about, okay?”
“You have me. We’re friends. Smile away.”
“Doughnuts make me smile. People don’t.”
I hold my hand out, palm up, and look her in the eye. She waits for me to crack. When a few long seconds pass and I haven’t even blinked, she sighs.
“Someone bought it,” she says. “For real.”
Brushing a strand of my long black hair out of my face as if preparing for battle, I narrow my gaze. “No.”
“No, what?”
“You aren’t allowed to keep the doughnuts for yourself if a paying customer wants them.”
“Haley—”
“No. I love you, Claire. I do,” I say, shaking my head. “But not more than doughnuts.”
“Haley—”
“And not more than doughnuts on a day like today.” I wince as my brain decides to play back the morning for my mortification. “Especially on a day like today.”
“It’s sold.”
I shoo her away. Like a child, I climb onto the stool, knees on the seat, and peer over the bar. Just as I suspected, perched on a platter—like the little gift from God it is—sits a glorious caramel-topped doughnut with the most perfect pecans I’ve ever seen.
The sight alone melts some of my stress. The way the icing glistens in the sunlight streaming through the windows makes me forget about the meeting I have in a few hours. Staring at the pecans, I almost forget my ex-boyfriend’s stupid text messages this morning and how much our split still hurts even though I don’t want it to.
“Want me to go ahead and grab it?” I ask. The words come out strangled because of my inverted position. When Claire doesn’t answer, I look up.
She’s looking behind me, smoothing out her blue apron. The flirty smile on her lips clearly isn’t for me.
“Hey,” I say in an attempt to draw her attention back my way. “Give it to me.”
“If you insist.”
I freeze.
The voice, all gravelly and deep, isn’t Claire’s. And unless she has become a ventriloquist with a penchant for leather-scented cologne that sends chills racing down my spine to my yoga-pant-covered behind—a behind that’s up in the air . . .
Oh, crap.
My body teeter-totters over the bar as I try to find the internal switch from awe to action.
A swallow passes down my throat as I survey the situation from my precarious position. Claire’s cheeks are tinted pink as she drops her gaze to mine. The giggle that’s hidden by a twist of her lips tells me one thing I already thought to be true: whoever is behind me must be seriously good-looking to warrant the sparkle lighting up her face.
Lowering myself onto the stool, I keep my gaze focused on the oversize wooden fork adorning the wall behind Claire’s bright-red curls. I wonder how close my cheeks are to matching her tresses.
“I’ll take the doughnut to go, please,” I say with a gulp.
“And I’ll have mine here.”
His voice must be inches behind me, and the proximity makes me jump. He chuckles before sitting down.
The richness of his scent blends with the honeyed twang of his voice, and I consider what will happen if I dissolve into the vinyl barstool. It’s too early in the day for humiliating myself in front of cute strangers.
Can life come with a “Redo” button already?
I grab my bag and dig deep, as if the aforementioned button is buried at the bottom. Sorting through mountains of candy wrappers and receipts only reminds me how much I’m sucking at life right now, but it’s better than looking at the guy who just saw my butt up in the air. In the thinnest yoga pants I own. With the brightest pink panties I have in my closet.
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