Tangle

by Locke, Adriana

  “You’re very welcome, Ohio.” He heads to the door but stops before exiting. Looking at me over his shoulder, he narrows his eyes. The feel of his attention on me changes. It gets heavier. Not uncomfortable, but it makes me squirm nonetheless. “I’m Trevor Kelly, by the way. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Haley.” My voice is breathier than I intend or expect, and if I weren’t still flushed from getting caught staring at him, I might blush again. “Haley Raynor.”

  “It was nice to meet you.” His features soften as he steps into the sunlight. “Oh. If I didn’t mention it, you owe me for the doughnut.”

  And with a final grin that sinks me into my seat, he’s gone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HALEY

  If he turns around and walks right back in here, it won’t be soon enough,” Claire says.

  “As long as he doesn’t come to get his doughnut back.” I swivel on the stool to face her. “By the way, I should fire you from being my friend.”

  “Why would you do something like that?”

  “You knew he was here, and you let me climb on the bar and stick my butt up in the air.”

  She shrugs. “I didn’t let you do anything.”

  “You didn’t warn me, which means you let me by proxy. And as your best friend for the last eight years, I expect more.”

  “You kept cutting me off in your quest for a hit of caramel icing.” She wags a finger my way. “This is your fault.”

  I make a show of dropping my jaw in faux shock. “You’re blaming this on me?”

  “Totally. I couldn’t get a word in to save my soul.”

  “Let’s just make a quick note that you didn’t bother to blurt out ‘hot guy’ or ‘sexy stranger.’ Either of those two phrases would’ve gotten my attention.”

  Claire leans against the counter, a conspiratorial grin on her face. “I come to work every day and serve a bunch of old farmers wanting coffee. If you told me this morning I was going to meet the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in the flesh today, I would’ve called you a liar.”

  “Same.” I swipe at the icing with my finger. “I wonder where he came from. There aren’t any Kellys in Dogwood Lane, are there?”

  “Lived here my whole life and haven’t met a Kelly.”

  “I was going to say, if there’s a family of men like that around here and you haven’t introduced me to them by now, you’re definitely not my friend anymore.”

  Icing hangs off my finger before I plop it in my mouth. A rush of sugar blitzes my tongue, and I make a concerted effort not to moan.

  Claire hands me a fork. “Like you have a hard time meeting guys.”

  “Oh, I can meet guys all right. I just can’t meet the right kind of guy.” I lick my lips. “Any tips? Not that I’m looking, of course. I’ll just note them down for later.”

  “You’re desperate if you want tips from me.” She holds out her wrist to show the word HAPPY inked on her skin. “I tattooed a guy’s name on my body who makes his living, for a lack of a better word, in dive bars. A guy named Happy, to make it worse. Don’t ask me for help.”

  “Good point.”

  I stuff my mouth with doughnut. It’s thicker than usual and takes much longer to chew than I anticipate. By the time I swallow, Claire’s refilling a couple of farmers’ coffee cups by the door.

  Taking another bite, I let myself calm down for the first time this morning. My eyes close. Air flows in and out of my lungs in a controlled fashion, just like the guru on one of my social media accounts showed her followers last week. I focus on putting the chaos of the day behind me and stepping forward with positivity and confidence. I envision restarting the day with purpose and focus.

  Until Claire comes back.

  “You know,” she says, “watching you eat makes me think I do it wrong. I don’t enjoy food as much as you.”

  Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I shrug. “Your loss.”

  “Somehow you have icing on your cheek.” She points just under my eye. “How do you manage that?”

  “It takes skill.” I dab at the spot until Claire gives me a thumbs-up.

  “I should get extra friend points for not letting you eat that in front of Trevor.”

  “What would it matter? We’ll never see him again,” I say.

  “I have a sneaking suspicion that’s not true. He asked for your name, Haley.”

  “So?”

  “So guys don’t do that. Just don’t be surprised if Trevor Kelly circles back around to see you again. That’s all.”

  His name being spoken seems to jolt his energy right back into the room. My body unconsciously leans toward where he was sitting. It takes all of two seconds to imagine him naked, hovering over me, with that delicious smirk I’m sure I’ll remember later tonight when I go to bed. And probably tomorrow too.

  Claire bursts out laughing. “I know what you just thought.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, shoveling in another bite. “I was thinking about how much I love breakfast.”

  And that’s why we’re friends. Claire’s mind is as dirty as mine. Although I have no idea why she thinks Trevor Kelly would be back to find me. Yes, he asked for my name, but he knows where Claire works. And with her sweet, cherublike face, gorgeous hair, and awesome personality, it’s not as if he wouldn’t want to come to Claire again for coffee. I was someone he teased because, let’s face it, I deserved it. Kind of . . . But Claire is a catch.

  “See? I don’t love breakfast that much. What’s my problem?” She sighs.

  I swallow, my mouth sticky from the sugar. “I think your problem is your attitude.”

  A rag launches my way. I duck, the white fabric shooting over my head and landing at the foot of the salad bar.

  “What did Joel want, anyway?” Claire asks.

  The mention of Joel’s name zaps the Trevor-induced energy right out of me. I stab a bit of doughnut with a little more force than necessary and remember his text. He was sweet, asking how I was doing, and wanted to see if we could meet up for dinner. For a moment, it was like old times. The Joel I was infatuated with for almost a year. Then, lucky for me, I recalled the way he ghosted me for a full week before finally finding the balls to break up with me. Via text.

  “What he told me he wanted or the truth?” I ask.

  “The truth.”

  I drop the fork and look at Claire. “He wanted to have sex with me.”

  She makes a point of sighing, her head rolling around on her shoulders in frustration. “Of course he did. He’s a hippie. Free love and all that.”

  “You’d be proud to know I told him to cuddle with some Matcha.” I grab my coffee and pull it to my chest. “I mean, I was tempted to cave, but I held strong.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t get what is tempting about him. He’s a hippie, for the love of God.”

  I laugh. “He’s not a hippie.”

  “Still.”

  “Still, I said no and . . . you know what?” I smile smugly. “It wasn’t all that hard. And not because he’s a hippie,” I mock, getting that in there before she can, “but because this not-dating thing I’m doing is working.”

  “How many weeks have you gone now without a date?”

  “Many, but it’s mostly as a security precaution for me. Habits are hard to break, and I might’ve been addicted to dating, actually.” I pause. “Can you be addicted to dating?”

  She shrugs.

  “Besides,” I say, moving on, “if I win, I get to name Dane and Neely’s baby.”

  Claire furrows her brows. “I didn’t know Neely was pregnant. Wow. That was quick.”

  “She’s not. At least, if she is, I don’t know it.” I lug my purse onto my lap and find my debit card. I slide it across the counter.

  “I can’t remember the last guy I saw you with, actually.”

  “I didn’t think I’d make it this long. I think this is week seven. Eight, maybe.” I make a face. “Anyway, it’s amazing how much time you ha
ve on your hands when you’re not worried about someone else’s schedule and wants and all that crap.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t just date. You fall in love. That’s a whole other level of commitment.”

  She’s right. It’s a vicious cycle I’ve been in my entire life—meeting a guy, going on a few dates, and then attaching myself to him like my life depends on it. I read a book one rainy day at the library that said this is a habit of people who weren’t shown enough attention as a child. I’m not sure about that. I had a great childhood—attentive parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who loved me. I never felt attention-deprived.

  The truth of the matter is I’m tired. And as much as I fight it and hate to admit it, Dane is right. I owe it to myself to step back from dating and focus on me for a while.

  “I’m not looking for a committed relationship until I’m out of school,” Claire says. “No guy is worth the distraction when I’m this close to finally graduating.”

  “I’m so proud of you,” I tell her, wrinkling my nose. “I wish I would’ve figured out how to finish my degree when I moved here.”

  “You’d just lost your mother. Moved to a new place and were taking care of your cousin’s baby, Haley,” she says softly. “You did great.”

  I lift my fork, cut a chunk of doughnut, and fill my mouth. “Sure I did. I’m twenty-six. Work part time at the library. And am alone.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s amazing no one has married you yet, with those impeccable table manners.”

  I fire her a look, making her laugh, before swallowing. “Well, no one is marrying me for a while. I have a bet to win with Dane.”

  “Are you still babysitting Mia?” Claire asks. “With Dane and Neely living together now, I wasn’t sure.”

  “Yeah. I still grab her after school a lot, and she sleeps over a night or two a week. Actually, I need to run her leotard to Dane before I go to the library.”

  I think about Dane and smile. No one could ask for a better cousin. We’re only a couple of years apart in age and fight more like siblings, but he’s always been there for me. And despite our propensity for silly bets, he’s kind and thoughtful. Neely is a fantastic fit for him, and I’m glad he’s finally found the happiness he deserves.

  Claire slides my card back to me. “Trevor paid for yours. Remember?”

  His name elicits a shiver that runs down my spine. “Well, if nothing else good happens today, a hot guy bought my breakfast. I’ll take it.”

  “You definitely made a better impression than I did,” Claire says.

  “Why? Did you say something super ridiculous before I got here?”

  “Like telling him he charmed my panties right off me? Or how his smile made me want to strip in the middle of this diner?”

  I cringe. “You didn’t.”

  “No,” she scoffs. “I didn’t. Have a little faith, will you?”

  “I seem to remember a weekend in Nashville where you did try to strip in the middle of a bar while shouting how the bartender made you want to . . .” I grin. “What was it? Come—”

  “Stop,” she says, flustered. “We don’t need to remember that.”

  “Oh, I think we do.”

  “That was the tequila. Not me.”

  “So what about the time in Memphis when we—”

  She waves me off. “Point made.”

  “Okay. So why do you think you made a bad impression?”

  Claire’s forearms rest on the bar as she looks at me. “I didn’t say that, exactly. I just said you made a better one.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” I say with a snort. “I unknowingly sashayed my butt in his face. I begged him for his breakfast and called him a thief. That’s a five-star impression right there.”

  “I think he found you . . . interesting.”

  “Probably unforgettable, and not for reasons I’d choose if I had the option.” I stick my card in my wallet. “Oh well. Can’t win them all, right?”

  My friend shoves off the bar. Her head cocks to the side. There’s something on her lips that she’s afraid to say.

  “When you look at me like that,” I tell her, “I get scared.”

  “I was just thinking he’s the kind of guy I could see you with.”

  I grab my coffee and take a long drink. Putting the cup between us helps a little, like it gives me a tiny bit of distance from her crazy yet tempting ideas.

  She watches me pointedly ignore her. When I don’t resume the conversation, she slides my plate away.

  In a flash, I pull it back to me again to swipe the last of the caramel icing with my finger. “One—I’m on a hiatus.”

  “So?”

  “So I’m not dating anyone. And two, I’ll never see him again unless our coffee-and-doughnut urges and locations match up. That’s highly unlikely. And three, if anyone would have a shot with him, it would be you.”

  She bursts into a fit of laughter that confuses me.

  “Why are you laughing?” I ask.

  “He didn’t look at me like he wanted to smear that icing on my nipples and lick it off.”

  “Claire!”

  She crosses her arms over her chest, completely undeterred. “It’s true.”

  I squirm in my seat. The picture she painted is enough to make me want to go home and take a cold shower. But as I hear his laugh echo through my mind and wonder how rough or gentle his touch would be, I snap back to reality.

  “I’ll give you that he’s gorgeous,” I say.

  “And sexy.”

  “And charming,” I add.

  “And he seems intelligent.”

  “And he can be kind,” I admit, tapping the plate with my knuckle.

  “So? What’s the problem?” Claire asks.

  I look at her. “That. All of it. That’s the problem.”

  “For someone as smart as you, you’re making no sense here.”

  Of course it makes no sense to her. It doesn’t even make sense to me until I sit down and really am honest with myself. But when I am, I know I’d fall so in love with a guy like Trevor Kelly my head would spin.

  I sigh. “I fell in love with Joel. And Henry. And Marcus. And however many before them. Things would not go well with Trevor, even if he were interested, which he’s not. And if I were in the mind-set to want to hook up with someone, which I’m not . . .” My phone buzzes in my purse. I fish it out. A text sits on the screen from Dane.

  “I gotta go,” I say, getting to my feet.

  Claire looks up as the door chimes. “I’ll be right with you.” She glances back to me. “Call me tonight. We can head to Mucker’s for pizza.”

  “Will do, unless I lose my job today.”

  “Don’t think like that,” she says. “They probably want to give you a promotion.”

  I give her a smile for the compliment and head to the door.

  “And if Trevor Kelly wants to be repaid for that doughnut, you better follow through,” she calls after me.

  “Bye, Claire.” I step into the sunlight, feeling a little lighter than I did when I walked in. A gorgeous man—whom I’ll never see again—gave me his doughnut today. Life is good.

  CHAPTER THREE

  TREVOR

  This is going to be interesting.”

  My words drift through the cab of my truck as I wait for a pickup loaded with hay to go through the intersection. Bales are stacked in the bed higher than the cab, held in place with only a few straps. The driver gives me a wave as he drives by, and I return the gesture, wondering if waving is a thing here. Because everyone does it. Every single person.

  It’s clear I’m not in the city anymore. These people take southern hospitality to a whole new level with the waving crap.

  My eyes flip to my rearview mirror. I can’t see the Dogwood Café anymore, and something about that makes me chuckle. Not that I can’t see it, but rather that I’m still wishing I could.

  Idiot.

  Haley Raynor. Now there’s a feisty, sassy girl I wouldn’t mind spending some
more time with. For someone so tiny, she sure had some attitude. I barely held in my laughter as she described her morning, but that look in her eyes when she saw my doughnut? Let’s just say there are other parts of me that wouldn’t mind that look directed at them. And it’s better not to think about her yoga-pant-clad ass while driving either.

  Clearly it’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid.

  My thoughts are broken when my brother’s name pops up on the dash. I press a button to answer the incoming call.

  “Hey, Jake,” I say. “What’s up?”

  “Hey,” he says. “How’s the city no one knew existed until Dad married Meredith?”

  I glance at the little building on my left. It’s one of those miniature, freestanding buildings with a tiny front porch. It has an old-fashioned barber’s pole spinning outside. The man on the porch waves as I pass. Naturally.

  “Calling this a ‘city’ is a stretch. I’m not even sure it qualifies as a town,” I say. “Maybe a village? Is that a thing?”

  My older brother chuckles. “Why did I expect it to be exactly that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Because Meredith uses the word ‘quaint’ in every other sentence?”

  “I really don’t love her, you know,” Jake says.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not her biggest fan.” I follow the navigation system and turn onto a highway leading out of town. “Just be glad you aren’t the one assigned to making sure her dream house is completed to her exact specifications.”

  Jake sighs. “Trust me. I thank God every day. I’d go outta my mind if Dad sent me to some Podunk town for Meredith’s benefit.”

  “But remember—this is for Dad, too, because when his wifey is happy, he’s happy.”

  I can hear the sarcasm dripping off my words as I repeat Dad’s favorite mantra of the last year and a half. Since he divorced Mom, he’s thoroughly enjoyed himself, to put it mildly. Then he met Meredith, and he’s a changed man. Or so he says. I call bullshit.

  “Oh, spare me the rhetoric,” Jake scoffs. “Dad doesn’t love her. He loves her D-cups and the fact she’s our age.”

  I ease my foot on the accelerator and think about what Jake just said. I’ve thought about it a lot, about whether Dad and his new wife are actually in love or she’s a gold digger and he’s getting played. My hope is the former. My head says it’s probably the latter.