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.
CHAPTER EIGHT
NEELY
Sit by me.” Penn pulls out a chair. There are three open seats at the table, but this one just happens to be across from Dane. “I insist.”
I lower myself into the blue plastic seat. Across the table, between Dane and Claire, is Brittney Blevins. She was a year older than Matt, Penn, and me in school and is stunning. Time has been kind to her. Her long blonde hair shines in the hazy light. Seeing her beside Dane loops a knot in the back of my neck.
“Hi, Brittney,” I say as I get comfortable.
“How are you, Neely?”
“Good. Thanks. You?”
She brushes a lock of hair off her shoulder. “I’d be better if Patrick actually showed up tonight.”
“You need to forget him,” Claire tells her. “I know you like him, but he’s no good.”
“You can say that again,” Matt grumbles.
Brittney sighs. “I like him, all right? I know he’s unpredictable and won’t commit and gets jealous, but I do like him. I can’t help it.”
I hold up a hand. “Wait. Who is Patrick? Why doesn’t that ring a bell?”
“He’s that fool who ran his truck off the bluff and into Dogwood Lake,” Matt says, flipping a beer tab toward Dane.
“Oh.” I look at Matt. “Didn’t someone die in that accident?”
“That’s what they say,” he tells me.
Brittney rolls her eyes. “No one died. That was a stupid rumor.”
Dane leans forward, flicking the beer tab back toward Matt. The bracelet around his wrist looks bright against his tanned skin. “It wasn’t a stupid rumor. Bobby Jones went missing right around that time, and the last person who saw him was said to be Patrick.”
“That’s not what he says,” Brittney retorts.
“Of course he doesn’t,” Penn chimes in. “That’s gonna make him look even more suspicious.”
I drag my gaze away from Penn to the other side of the table. Claire is taking a sip of her drink, hiding a smile as she watches me. I don’t have to look at Dane to know he’s watching me too. The feel of his gaze has me shifting in my seat.
Clearing my throat, I sit back in my chair. “You know how it goes. Small towns are always full of silly stories and conspiracy theories. You can’t believe everything you hear.”
“I agree with that,” Penn says. “When Claire told me you and Dane were practically screwing in the middle of Dogwood Café—”
“Penn, I’m warning ya,” Dane says through clenched teeth.
My cheeks heat as Matt and Brittney laugh, and I punch Penn on the shoulder.
“What?” Penn asks. He stretches an arm over the back of my chair in a clear joust aimed at Dane. “Don’t lie to me, bud. I saw you right after that.”
“Stop it,” I tell him. “You’re such a pesterer.”
“That’s a nice way of saying it.” Dane’s words are crisp. “He has nothing better to do with his time than needle me.”
“Yes, I do. You just tell me my stories all sound the same.” He leans closer to me, the smirk on his face clearly for Dane’s benefit. “Maybe I’ll work on a new story for ya, Dane.”
“Penn, you’re pushing it.” I laugh, shoving him away.
The waitress stops by the table and drops off a few fresh beers for the crew. Claire orders the Rocket Razzle, a new Mucker’s invention, for me and a plate of fried pickles for the table.
As the group chatters back and forth, Dane and I exchange a soft smile.
“Are you dating anyone?” Brittney asks, pulling my attention away from Dane.
“Who? Me?” I ask.
She grins. “Yes, you. I actually . . . This is a little embarrassing, but I follow your articles.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she says, looking briefly at the table. “I think it’s totally awesome you got out of here and did something big with your life. Every time I see your name on the website or in print, it just makes me really proud of you in a weird way.”
My cheeks ache at the compliment. “I don’t know what to say. That’s a really nice thing to tell me, Brittney.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Her voice trails off into a laugh. “Anyway, I figured you had some big-shot boyfriend in the city. That’s how you roll in my head.”
Dane’s movement beside her catches my attention, but I don’t look at him. I force my eyes to stay trained on Brittney. I happily accept a large frosted cup with a mixture of bright-yellow and red liquids from the waitress. “I don’t have a lot of time for a private life, actually. No big-shot boyfriend for me.”
“That’s good news,” Penn says.
“Why?” I turn to him, my drink in hand, and take a long sip. The spiciness of the rum mixed with the sweetness of the pineapple and the sugar-rimmed glass lets me take in a little more than I intend on the first gulp.
“I don’t know.” He grins. “I don’t have a lot to do tonight. What do you have going on?”
“I am not sleeping with you, Penn,” I say, shaking my head before taking another drink.
His gaze skims over the top of my head, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Got something you wanna say, Dane?”
“Oh, I got a lot of things I’d like to say, but I’m not about to give you the satisfaction of saying them.”
I glance over my shoulder. Dane is leaning back in his chair, one arm draped over the armrest. He appears completely cool. Relaxed, even, but the vein in his temple gives away his irritation.
Turning back to Penn, I shrug. “Sounds like he has your number.”
Matt groans. “Everyone has his number.”
“Back to the topic at hand,” Brittney says. “I need you to have a super romantic life, Neely. Do it for me. Let me live vicariously through you.”
“I just don’t have time,” I reiterate. “I work ten-hour days. Try to get my money out of my gym membership. Travel for work once a month or so and spend time with my friend Grace. Where do I fit in a private life?”
Mentally patting myself on the back at how believable that sounds, I take another drink. It’s all true, anyway. I don’t really have time for a boyfriend. Even if I found one, where would I fit him in, in the midst of my responsibilities?
My bed.
“You have to make time for a private life,” Claire chimes in, ripping me away from my vision of a male form with a green-and-yellow bracelet tangled up in my sheets. “I learned that the hard way.”
“How do you mean?” I avert my gaze from Dane’s and hold up my glass to see it’s empty.