The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(109)
But he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.
“I’m sorry, On,” Brogan said. “I’m all messed up. I didn’t mean to make trouble for you. Well, I guess I did, maybe. I don’t know. I mean, I do care about you. Maybe it’s for the—”
“Oh, shut up.” She grabbed her purse and hurtled up the aisle toward the doors.
“On, what do you think I should do about Dana?” Brogan called.
“Figure it out yourself, Brogan! I have problems of my own.”
But by the time she reached the parking lot, Tom was already gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
TOM WASN’T HOME. Honor threw some food in a bowl for Spike and dashed back out, then ran back in, wrote a note that said “Please call me ASAP” and taped it to the front door. Called his cell. He didn’t answer. She didn’t blame him.
Should she go to Wickham? Better yet, maybe she could call before driving all the way up there.
“Dees ees Dr. Dragul speaking,” came the voice. “How may I help you dees evening?”
“Oh, Droog, hi, it’s Honor Holland. I’m looking for Tom. Is he there, by any chance?”
“Ah, Honor, how nice to hear your voice! No, I em afraid that Tom is not here, but I veel tell him you called eef I see him. I must talk to him myself, as a metter of fact, but I heff date tonight. A luffly young woman named Clarissa, and I feel very—”
“Good luck,” she said, cutting him off. “Gotta run. Sorry, Droog. See you soon.”
She bit her lip.
Okay, this was all very juvenile—she hadn’t really been kissing Brogan—but her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might levitate. Tom would understand once she explained things to him.
She just had to find him, that was all.
Just then, her phone rang, making her jump so much she dropped it, causing Spike to pounce on it. “Give that back,” she said, pulling it free of her dog’s tiny mouth.
“Hello? Tom?”
“Hey, it’s Pru. When’s your wedding again?”
“Um, I’ll call you back.”
“Fine. I’ll just ask Tom. I meant to, but I was distracted when he took off his shirt. Those tats do something to me. I wonder if Carl would get one.”
“Okay, I’ll— What? When? Where did you see him?”
Prudence paused. “You okay? You sound weird.”
“Where’s Tom, Pru?”
“He’s in the bottling room, fixing something for Dad.”
“Talk later. Bye.”
A few minutes later, Honor pulled into the parking lot of the vineyard. Tom’s car was there.
Maybe he wasn’t mad, after all. He was here, being a good almost-son-in-law. He probably understood. How mad could he be?
Very, apparently.
He was lying on the floor in jeans and a T-shirt, and Pru was right. It made a very nice picture indeed, her college professor gone all handyman on her. “Hi,” she said.
He didn’t look up. Twisted a wrench, undid a coupling, then sat up in one neat movement.
“I should explain what you walked in on,” she said as he brushed past her. He didn’t pause, just went down the stairs into the cask room, where some of the wiring from the bottling machines ran. Honor followed, twisting her hands.
She wasn’t used to men being jealous. It was a freakishly new sensation, and not one hundred percent bad, if she was being honest. Seventy-five percent bad, sure. Twenty-five percent thrilling, in a guilty sort of way.
The cask room was dim, as always, even with the lights on, the hulking barrels standing guard on one side, the stone walls giving off their pleasant, limestone smell. Tom was already reaching up for a wire that laced under the floor of the bottling room and into the cask room’s ceiling. He took a knife out of his pocket and stripped away the rubber sheath.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Honor said, figuring he could at least listen. “Um, it’s not what you think.”
“Yes. So you said earlier. Funny, that phrase. Everyone uses it when trying to excuse their bad behavior.”
She pressed her lips together. “I didn’t do anything that can be construed as bad, Tom.”
“Darling, just because you and I have a business arrangement doesn’t mean I like it when you go off snogging your old boyfriends.”
“We weren’t—”
“Your mouth was on his, Honor. Looked like snogging to me.”
A hot blast of irritation surged unexpectedly through her. “I’m not the type, Tom. I’ve never flirted with another woman’s boyfriend. I’ve never littered, never broke the speed limit and I certainly never even entertained the idea of cheating on you.”
“Really. So kissing the great love of your life—”
“I have to say, I’m a little surprised you noticed. Since you’ve been ignoring me this past week.”
“Is that grounds for cheating?”
“I didn’t cheat on you! I would never do that.”
“It looked rather convincing to me.”
“Maybe you could just listen.”
“Why?” he snapped, yanking a wire down from the ceiling. “So I can hear how you accidentally kissed him? This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Your best friend stole your man, and now you’ve got him back.”