I thumb up through her messages, scrolling all the way back to the months I was seeing her. Notes about dinners we shared, the weekend we spent in Charlestown, and a recap of a few entertaining hours together in a hot tub in Chicago all pass by.
The further back I go, the more I expect to feel something—some connection or tenderness or another emotion that’s not apathy. Only one thing happens.
Haley answers on the second ring. “Hey,” she says. “I’m glad you called.”
Just like that, the heaviness is lighter and a smile is on my face. “Oh, really?”
“Wait. Is this Trevor?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“You did not,” I say. But even as I say it, I hope it’s not true.
She laughs. “What’s up?”
I sigh. “I have a problem.”
“How bad of a problem?”
“I don’t know,” I say, clasping a hand on the back of my neck. “How do you quantify that?”
“If a ‘one’ is you walk into a building and no one notices, and a ‘ten’ is the Dogwood Café is out of doughnuts, what are you?”
I shake my head, a smile etched on my face. “I’m not sure how to operate that scale. I feel like I need a handbook.”
“Fine. What’s wrong? But keep it snappy because I’m planning my best life over here.”
Running a hand down my face, I try to stay serious. Yet every time I start to speak, I think of the way I’m sure her lips are pressed together in a challenge, and all I want to do is listen to her jabber.
“Liz just texted me that she’s going to a party for my father this weekend. Do I tell her I don’t want her there or just let it go and blow it off?”
“If you blow it off, she’s going to think she’s going to blow you.”
I groan, wishing I’d never met Liz. And, maybe, that I’d found Dogwood Lane sooner.
“Did you ever text her back last night?” she asks.
I don’t answer.
“See?” she pokes. “This is why I told you to respond last night. You should’ve been preemptive.”
“Why can’t she just forget about me? Wait,” I say, stopping myself. “I know why she can’t forget me.”
“Oh, here we go.” Haley sighs.
I walk to the back section of the yard, where the top of the hill starts to decline. From here, I can see a field of wildflowers tucked behind a line of trees, and I wonder what it would look like in the spring. “I bet you would like this view,” I tell her.
“Where are you?”
“My dad’s house.”
“I’ve seen it. Remember? And it is breathtaking.” She stops abruptly. “Can I tell you something, though?”
“Sure.”
“That house is way too big. It’s almost a city. I have no clue why anyone would need a house that big.”
I look at the structure towering over me from behind. The wraparound deck only adds to the girth of the thing, and I wonder how many people Meredith will hire to clean this one.
“Big is a gentle way of putting it,” I say. “I’d go with enormous.”
“You still talking about the house?”
“Look at you,” I tease. “Your mind going straight to the gutter. I’m shocked, but I love it.”
“Yeah, well, I got a good night’s sleep, so I’m a little feistier than normal today.”
I imagine her lying in bed, hair sprawled out on the pillows. I wonder if she talks in her sleep and if she moves around like I imagine she does or if she lies quietly in one place.
“Thanks for the warning,” I say.
“Speaking of warnings, where do you plan on running into me today?”
I laugh, facing the meadow again. I’ve thought about that very thing all day. It’s a weird preoccupation. It’s just so easy, so amusing, to be with her. I can’t help it. “I thought I could actually pick you up properly tonight. I mean, you’re having dinner with me, anyway.”
The line goes quiet. She shuffles some papers, and I think I hear a door opening.
Her lack of response sends a weird vibe through my body. I pace a small circle and wait for her to respond.
I get nothing. The longer it goes, the more nervous I get. It’s like there’s actually a chance of getting shot down.
“Haley?” I say finally.
“You really meant that?” Her voice has an edge to it, the humor of a moment before gone.
My stomach twists. I switch the phone between my hands and take a deep breath. “Yeah, I meant it. I thought we had dinner plans. But if you don’t want to—”
“No,” she says quickly, “I do.”
My shoulders fall back as my lungs expel the air they were holding. “Well, good. What time do you usually eat?”
“Whenever,” she says. The caution in her tone is unmistakable.
“Okay. What do you like to eat? Besides doughnuts and ice cream.”
“Anything, really.”
“For a woman who’s typically so opinionated, you’re awfully quiet right now.”
She laughs. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just answer the question.”
“Fine. I like everything except sushi because raw fish just seems barbaric. Oh—I also don’t love lobster rolls, although I wish I did because they’re gorgeous. And I refuse to eat anything that was ever on the inside of an animal, but that doesn’t really qualify as food, I don’t think, so that probably doesn’t matter. Otherwise, I like everything. Except hot dogs because I watched a show on them once and it ruined me for life.”
My laugh rolls through the air. A flock of birds takes flight out of a grove of pines below. I watch them take to the sky and appreciate how free they are to go about their business without any chains to the ground.
“So basically you like steak and burgers,” I say. “Got it.”
She swallows hard. “I’ll be ready at seven? Does that work for you?”
“Sounds perfect.”
I think she’s smiling by the way she takes a quick breath of air. This makes me grin like a loon.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asks.
“Sure.”
“Where are we going?”
“I can’t tell you,” I say, grinning wider.
“Come on, Trevor. I need to know how to dress.”
I turn toward my truck, wondering how long it is until seven. “Pants. A shirt. Unless you like dresses, then that will work.”
“That’s no help.” She groans.
“See you at seven,” I say.
“Trevor—”
“Goodbye, Haley.”
Tucking my phone in my pocket, I feel it chirp with another text.
Before speaking to Haley, I would have considered tossing the phone. Yet somehow, this little sprite from Nowhereville Lane waved her crazy magic wand, and I just don’t care. This time, I don’t even care a little.
“I also don’t love lobster rolls, although I wish I did because they’re gorgeous.”
No, Miss Haley Raynor, you’re the gorgeous one in this equation.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HALEY
You’re going where?” Claire shouts through the phone. “I knew it! I knew there was something between you. My Spidey senses were telling me.”
“You don’t know anything,” I say, taking a glimpse at myself in the mirror.
I don’t either, except my stomach is sloshing like crazy, and there aren’t any deep-breathing techniques that will stop it.
“Oh, but I do. I know you are an amazing catch, and Trevor Kelly is apparently a smart man. I didn’t want to put too much pressure on the situation, especially knowing you’re on your dating hiatus—which I support, by the way. I just could tell by the way he looked at you that he wanted to scoop you up.”
Claire’s enthusiasm, while appreciated, isn’t helping me keep focused on what this is.
And what it isn’t.
“This is no
t a date,” I say evenly. “Please chill a little.”
“He’s picking you up for dinner. It’s a date, Haley.”
I swipe a container of lip balm off the counter and smear it on my lips. My stomach flips, knocking all my internal organs askew.
When he called today, I expected him to be making sure I knew he was kidding about the dinner thing. I knocked an entire glass of sweet tea over the notes I was taking on résumés when he said he was still planning on meeting me for a meal.
If he thought I would change my mind, he’s wrong. I need the help on my résumé, especially since Jen hasn’t called, and spending an evening bantering with him in the process isn’t the worst way to pass some time.
You’re not sharing a bed with him, I tell myself. Just a meal.
“This is why I almost didn’t tell you,” I say.
“Because I’d call you out?”
“No, because you’d jump to conclusions.”
I adjust the silver-colored shirt with black stitching that flatters my curves but doesn’t cling to them. With no idea where we’re going, it’s the most universally accepted outfit I could dig out in ten minutes. Ten minutes, because I put it off until the last minute so I didn’t primp and make myself a nervous wreck. This outfit will work anywhere. And most importantly, it doesn’t look like I’m trying too hard. Or like I think this is a date.
Because it’s not.
It’s not a date.
I’ve reminded myself of this a hundred times since he called. I’ve also second-guessed myself a hundred and one times about whether I can remember this when I’m sitting across a table from him. When we’re intentionally alone. And he’s there just to see me without an excuse—the résumé notwithstanding.
“I’m not jumping to conclusions,” Claire says. “I’m basing this off definitions. He called you and asked you to dinner. That, by every definition in the book, is a date.”
“We also made an agreement last night. It’s a business arrangement, Claire. He’s getting a dinner companion, and I’m getting help on my résumé. We both win.”
“I think you’re wrong,” she counters. “He pointedly asked you to dinner.”
“And told me on a napkin that he’ll be sure not to make me fall in love with him.” I tug on my shirt a little harder than necessary. “He lives in Nashville. Hours away. And he has no interest in a relationship, and I don’t either.”
“Really?” she asks.
“Yes, really,” I huff. “This might look like a date, and if I’m being honest, it could feel like one if I let it. But it’s not, and I’m not entertaining anything otherwise. I’m protecting my heart this time if it kills me.”
I spin on my heel as the doorbell rings. Even though I was expecting it, my heart still races. “He’s here.”
My heart goes from racing to pounding in a matter of a few seconds. I take a couple of deep breaths, silently ridiculing myself for agreeing to this while also reminding myself to play it cool. And for the love of all that’s holy, breathe.
“Okay, go,” Claire gushes. “Wear your hair up, and if you didn’t wear that emerald-green scoop neck—”
“Stop.”
“You didn’t, did you?” She sighs. “This is why you should’ve called me. I could’ve helped you get ready.”
“Stop it, Claire. I’m not kidding.” I take a deep breath and blow it out until the air flows smoothly from my lungs. “This isn’t a date.”
“Fine. It’s not a date. But please have fun. And relax. And believe for a minute that this guy might just like you and that’s perfectly okay.”
My shoulders sag as the kindness of her words sprinkles over my soul. “I love you, Claire.”
“I love you too. Now go have fun on your not-date. And call me after.”
“Goodbye.”
I end the call. Shoving my phone in my bag, I head down the hallway. Doing a quick check of my reflection in the mirror by the door, I wonder if I should’ve worn the green top.
Too late.
My hand wraps around the knob and I tug the door open.
“Hey,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
“Good evening.”
His eyes twinkle, their blue matching the color of his button-down shirt perfectly. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, displaying a watch that catches the light above. He’s fresh and perfectly put together in a way that appears to have taken about a minute.
Damn him.
I smooth an imaginary wrinkle out of my shirt, the one I wish with certainty was the green scoop neck. My intentional lack of effort is biting me in the ass. Now I’ll look like the frumpy girl with this gorgeous man, and there’s nothing worse than looking like the girl on a date with a guy totally out of her league.
“I didn’t know we were getting so spiffy for this,” I say.
He chuckles. “Did you just use ‘spiffy’ in a sentence?”
“Yes. You have a problem with that?”
“No, no problem. I just haven’t heard it in dialogue since my grandmother commented on my fifth-grade school pictures.”
“That must’ve been ages ago,” I crack, grabbing my keys off a little table by the door.
“Easy there. You aren’t that much younger than me.”
“You know, the more time I spend with you, the more amazed I am that women fall for you like they do,” I lie. “Are you sure this is a real problem you have?”
He reaches behind me to shut the door. His forearm brushes against my side. It’s like a live wire bites me, sending a ripple of uncontained energy through my veins. If he notices, he doesn’t show it.
“Maybe Penn was right and you’re just a unicorn that’s oblivious to my charm.” He stands straight and smirks. “Nah, just kidding. That’s impossible.”
I sigh, my body still humming from his touch. “This is going to be a long night.”
“Better get it started, then.”
We walk down the sidewalk to his freshly washed truck. I keep a couple of steps behind so I can check him out.
His light-brown hair is combed to the side, angled in a perfect, offset spike. The sandy color matches the leather in the belt wrapped around his trim waist, as well as the boots on his feet.
He carries himself with a confidence I’ve never known but always admired in the rare few I’ve seen who have it. It’s as if the world could be ripping at him from all sides and he wouldn’t even know it. I wonder how people develop that kind of self-assurance.
We reach the truck. He holds the door open for me.
“After you,” he says, waving toward the cab.
“Thank you.”
He waits until I’m settled before closing the door. By the time I’m buckled in, he slides into the seat next to me.
The cab fills with his cologne and mixes with the masculine energy rippling off him in soft waves. Between the two, I’m a little light-headed.
“On a serious note,” he says, starting the engine, “you look very pretty tonight.”
I look down at my shirt. “Thanks. I probably should’ve worn something else, but this will have to do.”
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why should you have worn something else?” He furrows a brow like he’s not able to follow me.
“I just . . . I don’t know,” I admit, feeling slightly foolish.
“Let me give you a little insight into the mind of a man,” he says, twisting to face me. “When a man tells you that you look pretty, he means it. And odds are it has very little to do with your shirt.”
My body warms as I sink into the leather seat and forget all about the green scoop neck. I settle my gaze on the floorboard for a moment so he won’t see me beaming. “Well, in that case, thank you. Again.”
I look up and we exchange a smile. He shifts the truck in gear, and we head down the road.
Dogwood Lane rolls by at a leisurely pace. The pine trees appear to touch the candied pinks and oranges of the evening sky. We ride fo
r a few minutes, country music playing softly through the speakers. It’s a comfortable quiet, the kind that could lure you to a peaceful sleep if you wanted it to. I wonder how I can feel so alive and so calm at the same time.
He takes an exit on the highway that leads out of town.
“Did you hear from the flower shop job today?” he asks.
“No, actually. I didn’t.” I bite my lip.
“Maybe she got busy.”
“I hope so.” I look at him and accept the sweet smile he gives me. “The more I think about it, the more I really hope that works out. But hope is a scary thing, you know.”
“I didn’t know that.”
I sigh. “Oh, it is. Hope is like the peak of a mountain. If the wind blows the right way, you fall into a beautiful meadow on one side. And if the wind knocks you the other way, there’s snow and ice and no hot chocolate in sight.”
He laughs. “You with the analogies.”
“But you know what I’m saying. It’s the precursor to disappointment a lot of the time.”
“That’s life, Haley.”
“Yeah. I guess. But this time, I’m focusing on the meadow side of the mountain and letting myself have a little hope.”
He watches me out of the corner of his eye. “What makes you like the flower shop so much?”
I try to put into words the fuzziness in my chest when I walk into the shop. The warmth that spreads over my body when I see flowers and how happy it makes me to see other people giving and receiving the simple joy of a single bud.
“It’s one of the simplest sources of pleasure.” As soon as I say it, I know I’ve walked into a minefield. He snickers. “Oh no,” I say as his smirk spreads over his cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I was going to suggest you get out more,” he cracks.
I try to play it off but feel my cheeks warm. “What I meant was I love how something so simple can just turn someone’s day around. Flowers just make people smile.” I rest my head on the seat and look at him. “At least they do me.”
“I’m sure Jen will call,” he says. “And if she doesn’t, her loss. And I might’ve overheard the ladies in the bank today saying they were going to be hiring. Just a heads-up.”
Tangle Page 10
