Home > Tumble (Dogwood Lane #1)(4)

Tumble (Dogwood Lane #1)(4)
Author: Adriana Locke

I would’ve recognized her anywhere. Same gray eyes that glimmer like she’s about to tell you a secret. Full lips that spread into a smile so infectious you can’t help but feel your own mouth following suit. The hint of floral perfume, the golden hair that may as well be silk, and the aura about her that’s just as strong as the day she left Dogwood Lane and me—it’s all the same. It’s like time forgot to age her. She somehow has become more beautiful, sexier, stronger.

The world hates me. I’ve postulated this for a long time, but it’s obvious today.

The tailgate of my truck lowers. I scoop a handful of ice from the cooler in the bed into a bandanna and wrap it around my injured digit. The relief lasts only a few moments.

“What are you doing down here?” Penn rests his forearms over the side of the truck, the tattoos carved in his skin like mini masterpieces on full display. He eyes my makeshift bandage. “What happened to you?”

“Hammer,” I groan, adjusting the ice.

“That’s interesting.”

“How you figure?”

“Never knew you to hit yourself with a hammer before. I find that interesting.”

“If that’s interesting, you need a hobby. Or you could work like I’m paying you to do . . .”

“I have a hobby, thank you, and you should’ve seen her last night,” he says, smacking his lips together. “Lord Almighty, she’s a—”

“Penn.”

“Yeah?”

The tip of my finger sticks out of the bandanna. It’s bright red and hot to the touch despite the ice packed around it. “All your escapades really sound the same at this point.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?” He cups his hand around his ear. “I thought so. Not my fault you’re in a dry spell.”

Leaning against the truck, I look at him. “Jealousy isn’t how I’d describe it. But if that makes ya feel good, go for it.”

“My hobby makes me feel good.” He moves his lips around, like he’s fighting the next words trying to pop out. He does this when he knows he shouldn’t say something but can’t quite convince himself not to. “From the looks of you, I’d say you’re more than jealous. I’d say you’re . . . tempted.”

My tongue presses on the roof of my mouth. “Tempted to what?”

He leans against the truck, too, the gold St. Christopher’s medal he’s worn since elementary school clamoring against the side. The corners of his lips nearly touch the corners of his eyes. He knows.

“Word travels fast, huh?” I say, prodding around to see if my guess is right.

He slow blinks. Twice.

“What?” I ask.

“That’s all you have to say about Neely being back in town? ‘Word travels fast.’ For fuck’s sake, Dane. What’s wrong with you?”

We don’t have time for that conversation.

I sigh. “What do you want me to say?”

“I’d love to have been a fly on the wall for that little run-in.” Penn snickers. “Did you stutter around like I imagine? Or did you not manage to say an entire sentence?”

Working my jaw back and forth, I point a finger his way. “You better stop while you’re ahead.”

He reads me correctly, and his animation drops a notch. “You just stuttered?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“You say that like it’s new info,” he says, continuing his amusement at my expense. “Really, though. How’d it go? But before you answer that, let me toss out there that I heard sparks were flying all over the diner so hot Claire had to call the fire department.”

I shake my head. “Shut up.”

“Just telling you what I heard.”

“The firemen were there to order food, you idiot.”

He thinks he’s onto something. There’s a glee in his face that means only one thing: it’s going to be a long day around here.

“So, what happened?” he asks, resting his arms over the truck bed.

“You know, sometimes I think you should’ve been a girl with all the gossiping you do.”

“This isn’t gossip,” he contends. “This is Neely-freaking-Kimber, man. Every memory I have of my entire adolescence has her in it. She bailed me out of jail when I was too scared to call my dad and you and Matt were passed out on moonshine. Remember that?”

My chuckle is so hard, it causes my thumb to throb. “I forgot about that. She was pissed.”

“I didn’t prostitute myself. The cop was just pissed off. He wanted to nail . . . What was her name? Claire’s cousin? Anyway, doesn’t matter. He wanted her and I got her first.” He shakes his head. “Neely came through, though. God, I miss her.”

Those last words echo through my mind.

I have shoved her out of my head for the last few years. Took over Dad’s business, took care of my business. Trudged forward without her because that was the only choice I had. I hardly even think about her anymore unless someone brings her up in conversation.

So why do I itch to crawl into the truck and hunt her down?

Because I’m a fucking idiot.

My hand squeezes my finger harder.

“I gotta get back to work,” I tell Penn, shoving away from the truck. “So do you.”

“Wait. You haven’t even told me anything yet.”

“What do you want to know?” I ask. “I went into the café for a cup of coffee. She came in. We said hello. She left.”

He looks nonplussed. “And?”

“And what? There’s no more to say.”

“You know how you know when there’s more to say? When someone says, ‘There’s no more to say.’”

Fiddling with the bandanna, I consider that.

Of course there’s more to say. But if I tell him I bought her coffee or noticed the new freckles across the bridge of her nose or thought about her so much in the last hour I wrecked my finger, he’ll never let it go.

He needs to let it go.

I need to let it go.

I wipe my brow again. “She’s visiting for a couple of days. Living in New York. Seems happy.”

“That’s your answer?” Penn deadpans.

“Yeah. That’s my answer.”

He scratches the top of his head. “Really, Dane? It’s like you withhold the good stuff just to be a dick.”

“What good stuff?” I laugh. “You want to know if she’s hot? Hell yes, she’s hot. No,” I backtrack, realizing that’s not quite right. “She’s not hot. She’s fucking beautiful.”

My brain starts to send words to my mouth at a speed my lips can’t quite keep up with. I start and stop four sentences before giving up with a shrug.

“Yeah, you’re fucked.” Penn smiles, but this time, it’s a tiny bit less asshole-ish.

“What are you talking about?” Twisting my hat around backward, I let the sun hit my face. It’ll be a decent excuse for the heat in my cheeks if Penn calls me out on it. “She’s just a girl from my past. I ran into her. People run into their exes all the time.”

“Just a girl from your past, huh? So if I tell you Brandon Atwood has a date with her tonight, you’re cool with that?”

“He fucking what?” I bark, not giving a damn that my cheeks are blazing. “How do you know that?”

“I don’t. It was a litmus test.”

Shoulders slumping, a breath rushing from my lungs, I glare at him and try not to laugh. “You’re a cocksucker.”

“And you’re a liar. What’s worse?”

“Does the cocksucker charge for sucking cock?” Matt slides up to the truck and looks at each of us. “If so, that’s worse. If not, I’ll go with the liar.” When we fail to respond, he grins. “This is going to be good, isn’t it?”

“What?” I ask.

“Whatever the two of you are arguing about.”

“We aren’t arguing,” Penn tells him. “I was making a point he didn’t want me to make.”

Matt pulls his brows together. “You made a point? Okay. This I gotta hear.”

“I don’t even have to make it,” Penn says. “Let Dane tell you, and then you’ll see my point. That’s the magic of all this.”

“Will you shut the hell up?” I ask. “Why do you have to make such a big deal about everything?”

“Uh, because this is a big deal.”

Matt’s head goes back and forth like he’s watching a volleyball match. “Is someone gonna tell me or what?”

“Fine.” I look at my brother, ignoring the shit-eating grin on Penn’s face. “Neely is home.”

His eyes grow wide. “No kidding?”

“No kidding.”

“When did this happen?”

“I don’t know. Saw her this morning at the café.” My voice is calm as her face streams through my mind. “Yes, she was hot, if that’s the first thing you wanted to know like dumbass over here.”

“You said beautiful.” Penn holds his hands to his sides. “What? You said it. I didn’t.”

“She was always beautiful,” Matt admits. “That’s nothing new.”

“Yeah, but you should see her now. Fucking hell, Matt.”

Their raised brows let me know they’re curious where I’m going with this.

Answer: nowhere.

I open the cab of the truck and pretend to search for something just to stop the banter. Just to get a second to myself.

The vein in my temple begins to pulse along with the heartbeat in my thumb. My skin itches as if it can’t keep all my emotions contained. I can’t focus on one thing, one part of this thing, long enough to make sense of it without jumping to the next. I shouldn’t give a shit. She’s here for a few days. She said so herself. Even if she were here indefinitely, it doesn’t mean she would give me the time of day or that I should even want her to. Or that I could actually do it.

   
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