“Oh, my God,” I squeal, jerking my head off her shoulder. “Are you pregnant?”
“No,” she says with a full-bellied laugh. “Could you have asked that any louder?”
“Yeah, I could’ve. You just scared the crap out of me.”
She looks at the floor, her face a rosy color. “I hope to scare the crap out of you for real, soon. I mean, we aren’t married yet or anything, and I’d like to do things in order if I can.”
“I can plan a wedding over a weekend. I swear. And,” I say, dragging out the word, “I just got a job at Buds and Branches. So I have the flowers covered.”
“You did? Haley. That’s wonderful.”
“I know. I’m so excited. I can’t wait to jump in and make beautiful arrangements and bouquets.” I sway back and forth. “This is gonna be fantastic.”
She laughs, tossing the towels in a bin. “It’s really the perfect thing for you.”
“I know . . .” My voice trails off as I glance at my watch. It’s way later than I realized. “Hey, Neely. I gotta go.”
“Oooh. Do you have a date?”
I laugh, heading for the door. “No. More like an appointment.”
“You’re smiling pretty smugly for a dental visit, girlfriend.”
“It’s not a dental visit, girlfriend,” I say, mocking her. “You about done here?”
“Yup. I’ll be locked up and gone within ten minutes. Go on. I’ll be fine.”
“Perfect. Bye.”
“See ya.”
The streetlights are just flickering on as I venture outside the gym. Pulling my hoodie tighter around me, I jog down the street and take a right. Blue, an old hound dog that’s lived here longer than me, lies in the middle of the road. That he hasn’t gotten hit is a testament to the drivers who traverse this road every day.
“Hey, bud,” I say as I jog by on the sidewalk.
He lifts his head and then rests it on the ground again.
I jog up the little incline and, when I reach the top, see Trevor’s truck. He’s early tonight.
I haven’t talked to him since he dropped me off last night. I considered sending him a quick text as I normally would after a date, just to say thanks for a nice meal. Then I remembered it wasn’t a date and he hates texts if his response to Liz’s is any indication, so I didn’t. I just sat in the bathtub and replayed the slight kiss on the cheek over and over again.
I did exactly what I knew I would do. I overthought everything. What I didn’t expect was the way my thoughts always circled back to the kiss on my cheek and how that made me so . . . happy.
He hops out of his truck as I get closer. The jeans he had on the day I met him make a reappearance. The “shirt” stretching over his broad shoulders is a heather-gray sweater that makes him look like one thing he isn’t: cuddly.
“I thought you stood me up,” he calls to me. “I got here about five minutes ago and you didn’t answer the door.”
“Because I wasn’t home.” My breath billows in front of me. I bounce on my toes to stay warm. “Do you want to come in? Because clearly I’m not ready to go with you yet.”
“Sure.”
We head up the sidewalk and I unlock the door.
“I love how you walk everywhere,” he says.
“Small-town life.” I flip on a light switch and shut the door behind him. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
“I love this painting,” he says, heading over to the one piece of art I own. “LaCassa had an art show in Nashville a few years back. I don’t know shit about art, but this painting in particular stood out to me.” He looks at me. “I love that you have it.”
“I love that I have it too,” I say. “I actually won it at a charity auction for kids’ cancer. I got it super cheap. It was before anyone knew who LaCassa was. Honestly, I didn’t know who he was either. I just didn’t want to spend my money on something that would be gone in one fell swoop.” I bite my lip. “Like filet mignon.”
“Agree to disagree on the filet, but love that you got the LaCassa.”
“Me too.” I let my hair down and run my fingers through it. “It’ll take me a few minutes to get changed if you still want to go to dinner.”
He grips the back of my sofa. “I’m not supposed to comment on your appearance because you have stupid rules, but I think you look fine.”
“Fine? Great,” I mutter.
“God forbid I say something else and throw a wrench into your universe.”
“It’s your universe, too, pal,” I say, jabbing him in the chest as I walk by. “You don’t want me to end up like Liz, do you?”
He grimaces.
“See? Rules exist to protect you from me.” I head to the kitchen, flipping on lights as I go. “I know those might be a new concept for you, but you’re gonna have to deal.” I turn around by the table and put my hand on my hip. “Now, do you want to go to dinner or not?”
He stands in front of me. “We’re going to celebrate your job. So, yeah, we’re going.”
“What if we go out tomorrow and just make sandwiches here tonight because I just chased a bunch of ten-year-olds around a gym and I’m tired?”
“I think that would probably break a rule.”
He takes another step to me, his grin growing wider. My heart skips a beat as I breathe him in.
Having him in my space cranks up the attraction I always feel toward him. His masculine presence surrounded by my more delicate things is an intoxicating mix I can’t get a handle on.
“It doesn’t,” I say, catching my breath. “But how close you are definitely does.”
“This room is the size of a shoebox. Not my fault.”
I take a step back and look at him warily. “You were that boy in school who went through the handbook and just chipped away at everything with the word ‘don’t’ in it, weren’t you?”
“Something like that.” He scoots past me and opens the refrigerator. “Okay. We can make sandwiches or order pizza. Your choice. I only see two slices of cheese, though, and I really don’t want to fight you over dairy products.”
I roll my eyes. “You are so funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
Laughing, I grab my phone. “Fine. Pizza is always the right answer.”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll order Mucker’s. They deliver.”
I make a quick call to Mucker’s. It’s hard to ignore the way he moves around the kitchen or how his back flexes in his shirt. I finally look at the wall so I can focus on the order. By the time I’m done, Trevor is in the living room with the television on.
“Make yourself at home,” I say, tossing my phone on the coffee table.
He looks at me and grins. “I did. This place is really small, but it has great feng shui.”
I plop down on the sofa beside him. “I agree. Although I’m not going to lie—you saying ‘feng shui’ kind of freaks me out.”
“It was my mom’s thing when I was growing up. We always had a plant in the east area of our house to promote health.” He makes a face. “That sounds ridiculous.”
“Yup. It does.”
He shrugs and looks around the room. “So what do you usually do on random weekday nights?”
“Well, my ‘normal’ has really shifted lately.”
“From?”
“I used to have Mia a lot,” I say, curling my feet under me. “Or I’d be with a guy I was dating, whoever that was. Or I’d be reading.”
“What about now?”
I snap the remote out of his hands to stop the incessant channel surfing. I key in the number to a channel on do-it-yourself repairs, figuring we could both enjoy that, and throw the remote into the chair next to me.
He balks. “Did you just take the remote from me?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, okay then.”
I laugh at the look on his face. “Now we can have a conversation.”
“Weren’t we having one before?” he asks.
“Yeah, but y
ou were distracting.”
He snickers. “I get that a lot.”
I don’t want to laugh, but I can’t help it.
“So back to my question: What are you doing now?”
I consider giving him a bullshit answer, one to segue into something else. But as I take in the genuine sparkle in his eyes, I think he really wants to know. And that’s refreshing.
“I’ve been focusing on me for a change. It’s been nice.” I wince. “I sound like a total asshole.”
“No, you don’t. You sound like you’re self-actualizing.”
“Self-actualizing, huh?”
“Yeah. Like you’re aware of your potential and that you owe it to yourself to reach that.”
“What about you?” I ask, getting comfortable next to him. “Are you self-actualizing?”
He winks. “I am self-actualized. I’ve reached my fullest potential. This is as good as it gets.”
“Oh, please,” I say. “You can’t tell me you’ve reached your full potential in every sector of your life.”
“Maybe I have.”
I look at him blankly. “So what you’re saying is that Liz is your fullest potential?”
He grimaces. “That’s a different topic.”
“It’s not really,” I prod.
“Yes, it is.”
I cock my head to the side. “Then explain that to me, Mr. Self-Actualized.”
He rolls his eyes and falls back into the cushions. “I don’t define what fulfills me like most people.”
“Oh, I forgot. You don’t believe in love.”
His arms come out to the sides, and he shrugs, as if to say, “Bingo.”
We sit in a tricky silence. Love is a sticking point with both of us, and if I push, it could ruin the entire mood of the evening.
“Want some tea?” I ask, getting to my feet.
“Sure.”
“Be right back.”
He takes my unspoken request not to follow and stays sitting. I head to the kitchen and pour two glasses of tea, considering the whole time that I might not be as smart as I think I am. I could get in way over my head before I know it if I’m not careful. It feels too natural around him, too amiable, to remember all the danger that comes with a guy like him—a guy who’s on the opposite side of the spectrum in terms of what he wants out of life.
By the time I get back, the television is off.
“Thanks,” he says, taking a glass.
I sit on the couch, placing my glass on the coffee table. I pull my feet up beside me.
The room is quiet. I wonder vaguely if he can hear my heartbeat. I can’t hear his over my own, but I can hear every whisper of a breath he takes.
“Can I tell you something?” he asks. His elbows rest on his knees, his head hanging.
“Of course.”
“If I were going to define fulfillment like most people, I’d pick a woman a lot like you.” He lifts his head just enough to see me from the side. “But don’t take that the wrong way.”
My body fills with a warmth that is fleeting. The look in his eyes is so full of caution that I back away. And what’s worse is I don’t want to back away. These aren’t pickup lines. He knows he shouldn’t be even saying them. Yet he is. And although I see caution, I also see an element of sadness. But again, I won’t overthink that either. He’d pick a woman like me, but it won’t be me.
“Can I ask what she would be like?” I ask.
“Intelligent. Funny as hell. An ability to hold her own. And she’d be gorgeous but not really have any idea how pretty she is.”
He takes my feet and rests them on his knees. It’s a break in the rules, but it feels too good to have the contact, so I let it go.
Grabbing my toes, he shakes my feet. “Don’t overthink that.”
“You know I’m going to,” I admit. “But for the record, I think if you wanted to go after a woman like that, she’d be lucky to have you. More or less.”
He grins. “That would depend on the day.” He rubs the tops of my feet, looking at the darkened television. Questions drift across his face, and I wonder if he’s going to share them with me.
I also wonder if he’s going to admit he’s enjoying this as much as I am. There are no pretenses, no clamor to have to be someone we aren’t. But therein lies the problem—who we are just won’t work together.
“Why are you so anti-relationship?” I ask. “And don’t give me some bullshit answer like you always do.”
“Just call me out, why don’t you?”
“I did.”
He readjusts my feet on his lap and thinks. “I suppose it’s multifaceted.”
“I have all the time in the world.”
Falling back to the cushions, he presses my feet against his stomach. “It’s a lot of things . . .”
“Which is what ‘multifaceted’ means.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I guess . . . I guess it’s because I hurt a girl when I was younger. I thought I was in love with her, and one day, I realized I wasn’t.” He frowns. “I didn’t want to marry her. I didn’t want to have kids with her. I didn’t want to do any of those things, although I loved her tremendously as a person.”
I watch a host of emotions flood his face, and my heart breaks as I see the pain he keeps hidden. “I’m sorry, Trevor.”
“She hurt herself.” He stares at some point in space. “I know it’s not my fault. And she’s okay now. But it shook me really hard that by changing my mind, I caused that. It seemed so unfair. To both of us.”
I pull my legs off his lap and scoot next to him. My heart pounds as I reach over and take his hand in mine. “That isn’t fair. To either of you. And I’m truly sorry that happened.”
“Me too.” He squeezes my hand before removing his from mine. “But that’s the main reason why I just don’t want to promise something I’m not sure I can make good on.”
“For the sake of conversation,” I say, “that’s what a relationship is, though. It’s promising to try something together and see if it works. And if it doesn’t, you part ways. And if it does, you have the option of going to the next level.”
“Or,” he says, “you just don’t start the process to begin with.”
The doorbell rings and I get to my feet, both relieved and saddened to stop our conversation. I pad across the floor and open it to let the delivery guy in. “Hold tight, Bobby. Let me grab my purse.”
I head to the kitchen and retrieve my wallet. Before I’m back, Bobby is gone and Trevor is standing in the foyer with the food.
“I forgot to give you some of my own guidelines yesterday,” he says. “The first one is this: it’s never okay for you to buy your own food when you’re with me.”
“But we’re at my house.”
“Celebrating your new job.” He carries the pizza into the kitchen and puts it on the table. “Now stop talking about weird stuff like relationships, and let’s eat pizza.”
“Okay.” I grab some plates and napkins. When I turn around, his phone is in his hand.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said about handling Liz,” he says.
The sound of her name makes me want to flinch. “What about it?”
“She’s going to be at my dad’s party this weekend. I can’t uninvite her or not attend myself. So although I can’t undo the fact that she’ll be there, I can be up front about what it won’t be.”
I pass a swallow down my throat. “True.”
“How’s this?” he asks. “I just sent this to Liz: ‘If you come, please bring a plus-one, as I will be. See you there.’ Sound good?”
Does it sound good? For Liz to hear that, yes. He needs to set that boundary with her. It sounds good, but my foolish heart needs to ignore the burning sensation in my throat and the million questions I have as to who is going with him to a place Liz will be. But I’m not about to ask that.
“Sounds great,” I say and hand him a plate. “Let’s eat.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
&
nbsp; TREVOR
This is probably the worst idea I’ve ever had. And to be honest, I’ve had some doozies. Like the one that I came up with last night at the inn. It’s the one that started this whole train wreck of terrible ideas.
Terrible and potentially amazing.
But it’s logical, and logical is what you fall back on when you aren’t sure. Logic never fails.
I hope.
I angle my head from side to side as I head into Dogwood Lane, trying to work some of the tension out. The back of my neck feels like a rubber band has been stretched through it and someone is pulling it taut. The pain is irritating and only adds to my discomfort about this whole day.
Lorene fixed me a breakfast of bacon and eggs, even though breakfast isn’t included with the room. I made sure to fix her leaky faucet in the kitchen while she prepped the meal. I’ve enjoyed chatting with her over the last few days, but today I just wanted to get out of there and take care of business.
I stop at an intersection and wait for a school bus. I fire a text to Jake with my idea and answer a few questions we left unresolved after I got back from Haley’s last night. The messages go through, and I toss my phone out of my reach and wait for it.
One. Two. Thr—I don’t get to “three” before the phone rings with as many unread messages. Like a firing squad, they come in so quickly I know any peace I had with Jake is dead. He’ll use one of those texts to fire me up for the foreseeable future.
I hate the line Haley’s drawn. Her stupid refusal to let me touch her or treat her the way I want to is maddening, and I’m not sure if I like her despite, or because of, it.
I drive up her street, swerving around the dog that doesn’t appear to have moved since last night. He blinks, so he’s alive but apparently really comfortable in the middle of the road.
The sun sits high in the sky, almost directly overhead. My fingers tap a beat against the steering wheel as I pull up to Haley’s.
I don’t want to feel this desperate. I’ve not wanted to do something I know I shouldn’t like this for a long time.
I’ve clearly lost my damn mind.
As if my brain has taken control and put me on autopilot, I shut off the truck. Open the door. Get out and lock it behind me. Before I know it, I’m ringing Haley’s doorbell with a flood of excitement hitting my veins.
Tangle Page 13
