What it was about her that made him want to move mountains, slay dragons, he couldn’t rightly have said. He’d been the downtrodden, so he identified, even helped out now and again, in his own low key way. A tractor part here, a lawnmower part there. Things he could do, small scale, to help out someone in need. But that impetus had never inspired him to want to leap over tall buildings in a single bound and save the day for anyone.
“If you really want it, don’t turn tail and run,” he told her. “Nothing happens if you don’t try.”
“If I keep my online business on hold too long, I may not have much to go back to.”
“See, that’s the problem right there, sugar. You already don’t have much to go back to. Not in the way that matters to you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. Seems to me you’ve got every reason to try, and a long list of reasons not to give up. Instead of thinking about your farm as your backup plan, use it as motivation. The farm is not your backup plan, darlin’, it’s your give up plan. That’s not the same thing.”
She considered him for several long moments. “How’d you get so smart?”
“Life is long. You learn from things. If you pay attention, then you make better choices next time, and you don’t have to learn them all over again.”
She let out a soft laugh at that. “I hear what you’re preaching . . . and I agree with the philosophy. Wholeheartedly. I just don’t know exactly what to do about it.” She held his gaze for several long moments, her expression bemused. In the end, it was the spark of hope his words had put in her eyes that told the story. She was going to stay. She was going to try.
And damn if that didn’t make him feel like he’d leaped over a building or two. Small ones, to be sure, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel a might smug. Of course, what he should be, was scared spitless. Not thirty minutes ago, before she’d climbed back into his truck, he’d been quite relieved and happy at the prospect of her getting back in her old rattletrap car and driving out of Sugarberry forever. He should remember that, and likely would . . . later . . . when he wasn’t in the middle of the hormone-induced fog he seemed to descend into every time she got within five feet of him.
“You know what I think?” he asked.
Her lips twisted in a wry grin. “Only when you grab me when I’m off guard.”
It was his turn to bark out a surprised laugh. “Okay, maybe not quite that literally. What I think is that you don’t give yourself enough credit. You say you hide out, and maybe you have, but it wasn’t from being weak. It was an honest attempt to preserve your own mental well-being. Nothing unhealthy or weak about that.”
“So say you.”
“So I do say. We have different demons, sugar, but we’ve both chosen a path of least resistance, rather than one that constantly forces us to grapple with and overcome obstacles that don’t benefit anybody by being tackled. There’s a lot to be said for peaceful living.”
“So why are you trying to talk me into staying? You’ve been up close and personal with both of my ‘events’ since coming here. Nothing peaceful about them, obviously. And I don’t know what it’s going to take to figure out how to lease shop space with no operating capital, but I doubt it’s going to be smooth sailing, either.”
Hormone fog or not, Dylan was quite aware, without a single doubt in his mind, that very moment was the time to pull back, step out of her business once and for all, clear his head—and his body—and get back to his own business, his own life. He’d been her cheerleader for five whole minutes. If it helped to get her on the path to where she wanted to be, power to them both. But that needed to be the beginning and the end of it. Even Superman had his kryptonite and he was pretty damn sure she could be his.
He told himself to put the truck in gear and drive them back to Sugarberry, whereupon he would return to his life and leave her to hers, whatever course she decided to chart. So, naturally, he sat right there and asked, “If you could get the business space, think you could figure out how to handle the rest?”
“You mean like a place to live?”
He shook his head. “That’s not the hard part in all this, darlin’. Folks here’d find a way to help you out until you got on your feet. Lani Dunne might have a lease on your property, but I’m betting she feels pretty damn bad about leaving you homeless, unintentionally or not.”
“I don’t want anyone to house me out of pity or misplaced guilt.”
He stared at her, a little annoyed because he knew that would have been his exact response had the tables been turned, so he could hardly hold it against her. But what he said was, “A hand up isn’t the same as a hand out.”
“Easy to say, harder to accept.”
“Don’t I know it.” Most of the folks on Sugarberry had next to nothing good to say about the other members of the Ross family, and only pity for him for being born into it. But that hadn’t stopped them from trying to help him. Help he’d mostly turned down, but that was arrogance, pride, and stupidity on his part. Something he didn’t learn until much later. Maybe he could save Honey the same hard learning curve.
“Okay, say that gets worked out,” she said. “What did you mean then? The visions and being back around people?”
He nodded. “Including people who knew your aunt Bea and, once they learn you’re a chip off the old visionary block, aren’t likely going to leave you to go about your business without tryin’ to get you tangled up in their own, same as she was.”
Honey surprised him by smiling that crooked smile and her voice was good and dry as she seemed to have found her footing again. “One minute you’re telling me to follow my dreams, the next you’re trying to warn me off?”
“I’m just walking through the paces, getting you to think it through. You can’t fix things until you know what things most need fixing.”
“Can I ask you something? Does it matter to you if I stay or go? I know it shouldn’t matter, you barely know me. But I know I have turned some parts of your life upside down, and now you’ve been dragged into the whole Frank thing. I could promise that from now on I’ll do my best to leave you out of it, to leave you alone . . .”
“But?” His heart was pounding and he didn’t want to examine the reasons behind it.
“But only if you want me to.” She smiled at him. “Don’t let this go to your head, but it turns out you’re a pretty good kisser. I realize I say that with little experience to back up my opinion, but I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t given some thought to trying it out again.”
He had no idea what he’d thought she was going to say, but that wouldn’t have even made the top ten list. His heart kept right on pounding, with a healthy punch of heat added to the mix. He should have run while he had the chance . . . because, foolish or not, it didn’t look like he was going any-damn-where.
His grin was slow, wide . . . and he took great pleasure in watching her pupils swallow up that all-seeing, all-knowing sea glass green. “Would this be for personal or scientific reasons?”
She tried to pretend he wasn’t having an effect on her, that she could say something and keep the conversation focused on her relocation woes. But the way her throat worked told him differently . . . as did the bit of roughness in her own voice when she asked, “You mean to test whether or not I’d have a vision the next time you make, um . . . personal contact with me?”
“I’m not a lab rat, sugar.”
“No, you’re definitely not that. Although I won’t lie and say I’m not curious . . . trepidatious, even, about the scientific part, as you call it.”
“Don’t go using big words and wearing those glasses at the same time, schoolmarm.”
Honey’s cheeks bloomed with color and her pupils bloomed with something else entirely. “I . . . might be a bit personally curious as well.”
“Only a bit?”
“Okay, at the risk of feeding your ego, a lot.”
“Sugar, the last thing you need to worry about is feeding my
ego. You set me in my place often enough.”
“Do I?”
His grin deepened. “Handily.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Let’s just say I’m a little trepidatious.”
She giggled at that, something he hadn’t heard from her, and it did funny things to his insides. He leaned in closer.
“Dylan—”
“Just a little scientific discovery.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and his own voice grew just a little gruffer. “To help you make your very important decision.”
“You’re incredibly generous,” she said wryly, but her gaze dropped to his mouth, too.
“That, too.” He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. “Anything shaking, earth trembling?”
She sighed and her eyes drifted shut. “Only in a really good way.”
He chuckled at that, even as his body went rock hard. “Well then, the scientific part is over.”
He laughed outright at the way her lips formed a little pout, instantly.
“Aw sugar, if you only knew what that does to me, you’d use it on me every chance you got.”
Her eyes flew open, surprise in them, and he marveled at how he never knew which part of her would react to any one thing.
“Let’s try out the personal part, then,” she said, shocking him by leaning in and taking charge of the situation and him, kissing him like she’d been waiting for the green light. It was no teasing of lips, no tentative brush of her mouth on his. She laid claim.
He had to dig his fingers into his thighs to keep from reaching for her, to keep the contact to their mouths only. It about killed him.
She made that little moaning sound that already drove him crazy, and he might have been a little insistent at urging her to open up for him and let him inside, but that sigh, and the way her shoulders softened, and her body moved toward his, absolved him of any guilt. And then her tongue was sliding in, dueling with his, and his body ramped straight past rock hard to begging for release. Her gasps turned to groans of want and he knew that nothing short of nailing his hands to his thighs was going to keep them there much longer.
He eased out of the kiss and lifted his head slowly, leaning back and away. When he spoke, even he heard the strain in his voice. His fingers were curled into fists on his knees. “I think that ends the personal discovery portion of today’s little experiment.”
Honey let out a sigh of disappointment and closed her eyes, but nodded as she eased back more fully into her seat.
Dylan took another minute or two to get his body somewhat under his control, then with far more reluctance than he’d have thought possible even ten minutes earlier, he shifted the gear into drive. He took another moment to look over at her, surprised to find her watching him. “Fair warning.”
“Warning of what?”
“If we ever try another experiment like that, we’re going to find out what happens when I put my hands on you. No way I can do that again and keep them to myself.”
To his continued surprised, rather than go wide-eyed . . . she smiled . . . very much like a cat who’d just spied a particularly plump canary.
“Okay, that scares me a little, sugar.”
“What does?”
“That smile. It’s kind of . . . predatory. You sure you didn’t leave a string of broken hearts back in Oregon?”
“Very sure.” The dry note in her voice had crept right back in, which settled him a lot more than the smile had.
He held her gaze for another extended moment as an idea popped into his head. A half hour earlier, he’d have thought himself crazy for even considering it. Not that it wasn’t still crazy . . . he simply didn’t care.
“Buckle up.” Before he could change his mind, he leaped another tall building. “I want you to see something.”
“Oh, really,” she responded suggestively, even as she wiggled her eyebrows over those ridiculously unsexy glasses that made him hard all over again.
He found himself chuckling. “I’m finding it harder and harder to believe you’re tellin’ me the truth about those broken hearts.”
“Oh, that part is true enough.”
Just don’t break mine, sugar, he thought, then shifted uncomfortably because it had even entered his mind.
“Where are we going?”
Dylan tightened his grip on the wheel, keeping his eyes on the road. Superman or utter fool, he supposed he was going to find out. “To look at your new shop space.”
Chapter 10
That was pretty much the last thing she’d have ever expected him to say. “My . . . what? I already told you my farm hasn’t sold, so I don’t have the money for a lease.”
“What about the lease payments on your aunt’s place? That’s rightfully your income now, isn’t it? Wouldn’t that cover all this?”
“Yes, well, that’s the other thing I looked into today. Turns out Lani and Baxter paid the full five years up front with some cookbook advance they got. They didn’t even do anything with the place for the first year, but Lani knew she wanted to expand when the time came, so when Bea put it up for rent, she jumped on it.” Honey waved a dismissive hand. “Anyway, it’s all moot. The lease payment went to the management company Bea had hired, as it should have, who deposited it into the account they’d set up for her, as they were supposed to do. That money, along with her savings, took care of her senior care living expenses and medical bills. Anything left over and her life insurance paid for her funeral and any outstanding bills. I am just thankful the Dunnes paid what they did, when they did, because if not, I’d be responsible for that debt, too.”
“At least everything was handled properly. But wouldn’t your aunt have known then that her property wasn’t available for occupancy when she left it to you?”
Honey sighed. “To be honest, I’m not sure what her thoughts were or how sound. That she kept so much from me, which was really uncharacteristic of her, has me wondering just what her state of mind was. I think the stroke did more damage than she knew. It was certainly more than she allowed me to know.”
“You were in contact with her?”
“Oh, all the time. I wanted to come out here, spend time with her, help after the stroke, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She knew that flying would have been a nightmare for me, putting myself on a plane with so many people.” Honey still shivered a little just imagining the horror show that would have been. “She led me to believe she was doing really well, that with physical therapy she’d recovered most of her abilities, and was doing far better than expected. I should have known when she wouldn’t Skype with me that something more was up.”
“Wouldn’t . . . what?”
Honey laughed. “We used to chat via our computer monitors so we could see each other while we talked. It was as close to being together as we could get. Only she stopped doing that after her stroke. She told me it was because it had left her face droopy from muscle loss on one side, and she didn’t want to worry me. Normally, she’d have just made a joke about it and we’d have dealt with it, but . . . I was trying to be sensitive and, given how scary the whole thing was, who knew, maybe it did really bother her.”
Honey lifted a shoulder, then sighed. “That’s how she got away with moving to the senior care facility without me knowing, and putting her shop up for lease. Of course, when she wrote her will, I’m sure she didn’t think she’d be gone so soon. I spoke with the care facility today, too. They said she’d been doing much, much better and was in good health, just limited by the recovery far more than she’d let on to me, but needed continued assistance. The aneurysm . . .” Honey trailed off, closed her eyes for a moment, willed the threat of tears back, then continued. “She probably hadn’t thought that far ahead about the shop. She should have lived for a much longer time, so maybe she just hadn’t finished putting her plans into place.”
“You knew she wanted the shop for you?”
Honey nodded. “She left me a letter with her will, but it was written before the
stroke. She hadn’t updated her will, either.”
“So, it was written assuming she’d be living there and operating the business up until the time she passed it on to you?”
“Yes—which is exactly what I thought had happened. Her lawyers didn’t advise me differently because they didn’t know, either. Bea never planned on retiring. She loved her work, loved her customers, who were also her friends. Her business was what gave her purpose and kept her engaged with life. I had no doubts that she’d gotten back to it so quickly after her stroke. That was exactly what would have motivated her to get better.”
“You weren’t surprised she left the business to you, then? Even though she discouraged you from coming to see her?”
“Oh, she’d urged me to move here over the years, but I wouldn’t even consider it. I told myself I was happy, successful—which I was, as much as I could be—so why mess with that? It was a lot more than some people had. It was only after I read her letter that I”—she paused again and swallowed hard—“really took stock and allowed myself to admit what I’d buried for so long, which was that I wanted a chance at a more normal life. I simply hadn’t had the courage to reach for it. Bea leaving me her shop space and her apartment was . . . I don’t know, like a sign. Or certainly a tantalizing prospect. One, in the end, I couldn’t ignore.”
“Just because it’s not panning out as you’d thought it would doesn’t mean it can’t work.”
“When the lease is up and they renew—and I’m assuming they will, given the popularity of the cupcake shop and Lani and Baxter—then it will be income for me, but that’s years off. As it is now, technically, it’s just an additional burden. As the landlord, I’m responsible if anything goes wrong with the place. I mean, the management company is still on the lease agreement, so that’s who Lani would call to come fix whatever . . . but then they’ll call me for payment.”
Cupcake Club 04 - Honey Pie Page 14