The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(101)

“Not in our hearts,” Abby said sternly. “Eat it.”

“It’s only horrible the first twenty years or so,” Ned added.

“What are you talking about?” Goggy demanded. “It’s wonderful.”

“You first, mate,” Tom said.

“Just take a little nibble, son,” Dad said. “You don’t have to eat the whole thing.”

“Someone has to,” Faith said. “Tom. Be a man.”

Charlie held up the bony fish. “Oh, God,” he said. Closed his eyes and took the smallest bite possible, just a scrape of the teeth, gagged and manfully forced it down his throat. “It’s...good,” he wheezed, tears coming to his eyes. “A little strong, maybe.”

“Good job!” Pops said, clapping him on the back. “Tom? Go ahead. Finish it up, son.”

Tom looked at Honor. She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “For you, my love,” he said, and, much to her horror, picked up the fish and bit it right in half, the bones crunching. His face contorted, and everyone laughed. He chewed, swallowed and then ate the other half. Dear Lord.

“Now there is a man,” Mrs. Johnson said approvingly.

“Good job, babe,” Honor said, taking the plate from him. Blick. The smell was wretched. Poor Tom. Time to get to the real food—the casseroles and ham and pies.

“Not so fast, darling.” Tom jerked her back to him. “How’s about a kiss?”

“No! Don’t you dare!” She broke away from him and ran behind Levi. “Officer, help me. That man has fish breath.”

“Far be it from me to come between a man and his wife,” Levi said, stepping away.

“We’re not married yet,” Honor shrieked, dodging and laughing as Tom chased her. She bolted for the nearest row of grapes. “And we won’t be if this keeps up. Daddy, help me!” Her traitorous father merely laughed.

“Go get her, Tom!” Pru called, and sure enough, he caught her arm and spun her around.

“Darling? Don’t you love me anymore?” he said, his sweet, crooked smile flashing.

Then he kissed her, herring breath and all.

And you know, it really wasn’t so bad. Her family gave a cheer, and Honor felt him smile. Then he kissed her again, and hugged her. “This is lovely,” he said, his face growing more serious. He tucked some hair behind her ear. “Thank you for having us.”

“Come get some real food, you two lovebirds,” Goggy sang. “Did I mention that I always knew they’d be perfect together?”





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

ON SATURDAY, TOM cornered Honor just after her shower. Little was more appealing than a woman wrapped in a towel, her skin damp and pink. Lose the towel, and life would be perfect.

But his unofficial stepson was waiting. “Want to come out with Charlie and me?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said, and he watched as a flush spread into her cheeks. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

They stopped at Lorelei’s and got sandwiches and iced tea from the sunny owner, then picked up the lad and headed north. Charlie was plugged into his phone, listening to music, but he wasn’t sullen, Tom thought. Just a teenager. He had Spike in the back with him; the dog reserved her animosity for Tom and seemed quite content to sprawl on Charlie’s leg in exchange for a belly rub.

The boy’s face was changing, Tom thought as he glanced in the rearview mirror. He’d lost the softness of a little kid, and his bone structure was becoming more pronounced. His freckles had faded, and his eyes were more observant.

He looked a lot like Melissa.

Someday, he and Honor might have a baby in the backseat there with Charlie and Spike. A car seat, a diaper bag, a knapsack, all that.

The image made his hands a little sweaty. But that was the deal, was it not?

Besides, he liked kids. He could handle a baby.

It was the family part that made him nervous. Perhaps not nervous in a bad way, though.

Speaking of family, he’d spoken to his father again this week. He should get Dad to move over here. Since he’d be staying and all.

“All right, darlings,” Tom said, pulling off the highway. “Three guesses as to where we’re going.”

“Brigham Airfield?” Charlie asked as they passed the sign.

“Genius,” Tom said. “Thought we’d take little project of mine out for a ride.” He turned onto the airport road, and ten minutes later, they were standing in front of the Piper.

“So what did you do to it?” Charlie asked.

“We put in a bigger engine, modified the wings, adjusted the rudders. The owner wants to do some stunt flying.”

“Cool.”

The plane looked quite cheery. Tom walked around, explaining the preflight check, the different parts of the plane, and much to his surprise, Charlie seemed to be listening—no headphones, no sullen staring. When he was done, Tom opened the door. “Charlie, mate, up here. You’re my copilot.”

“You have your pilot’s license?” Honor asked.

“I do. But I don’t fly too much, so hang on tight.” He winked at her, and she smiled, her dimples flashing.

In the cockpit, he showed Charlie which controls did what, checked the switches, valves and the rest of it, then radioed the tower and started the engines.