The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(35)

“Shoot, I can’t. I have to work. I’m on at Hugo’s.”

“Right.” Crap. “Another time, I hope.”

“I’d really like to. I just...I still need the other job. Student loans, you know?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Maybe she shouldn’t have asked. Maybe that was inappropriate. Maybe Jessica didn’t want to have a drink with her boss.

“I could do Tuesday,” Jess offered.

The relief was a little pathetic. “Great. Sure, Tuesday, then.”

Just then the phone rang; they both lunged, but Honor won again. “Blue Heron, Honor Holland speaking.”

“Hey, On, it’s Brogan.”

She felt the blood drain to her feet. Since the catfight (cringe), she hadn’t actually spoken to him, aside from a few very superficial and cheery emails. “Hi there, Brogan!” she said. Her voice sounded weird. “How are you?” Better.

“I’m good, I’m good. How about yourself?”

“I’m really great. So good. Truly. I’m excellent!” Oh, Lordy. Jess gave her a sympathetic look and slipped away to her desk. “So, what’s up?”

Brogan paused. “You think you could meet me for dinner tonight? Or a drink?” he asked. Honor grimaced hugely. “Just you and me,” he added.

I’d rather swallow a live eel, Brogan. “Oh, shoot, hang on a second, I have another call,” she lied. She pushed the hold button. “Jess? You still there?”

Her assistant reappeared. “Yes?”

“I’m sure you heard about my brawl a few weeks ago.” Jessica nodded. “Brogan wants to get together for drinks.”

“Yick.” Jess pulled a face.

“Thank you. Do you think I should go?”

“Have you seen him since the fight?”

“Nope. Do I have to go?”

Jessica leaned in the doorway, then shrugged. “Yeah, you kind of do. Sorry. You don’t want him to think you’re sulking.”

“That’s what I thought, too. Crap. Thanks.”

“Come to Hugo’s. I’ll spit in his drink for you.”

“Really?”

“No. But I’ll want to.” Jessica smiled.

“I appreciate that.” Honor pushed the button back. “Sorry, Brogan,” she said. “Sure, I can meet you for a bit. How’s Hugo’s?” Jess gave her the thumbs-up and disappeared again.

Brogan let out a breath. “Oh, that’s fantastic. Can you be there in an hour?” His voice still made her stomach pull.

“Okay. Um, Brogan, I can only stay for a little while,” she added. God forbid they were together long enough for him to...get to her again. “I, um, I’m meeting someone. Later. After I see you. It’s a date. I mean, I’ll have a date later tonight. I do have a date.”

Spike stared at her, hypnotized by the lies.

“Awesome,” Brogan said happily.

“Yes, yes. Okay, I have to go. I’ll see you at six o’clock at Hugo’s. Great. Bye. Take care.”

She hung up and let her head fall backward. Her armpits were damp with sweat. Plus, the clouds were releasing their burden, and fat snowflakes filled the air. Beautiful, except it was March. Just when you thought spring was really going to come through, Mother Nature bitch-slapped you with a storm.

Spike scrabbled at her leg, and Honor lifted her into her lap. “You get to stay home,” she told the dog. “And you better TiVo Top Ten Tumors for me.”

* * *

AND SO IT was that an hour and twenty-three minutes later, Honor was fake-laughing at Hugo’s, sitting across from the only man she’d ever loved, slightly sweaty, stomach churning with acid and vodka from the perfectly chilled, slightly sweet Saint Germaine martini Jessica had brought her.

This was...what was the word for it? Hell. Yes. This was hell, and she was pretending to have a wonderful time. Oh, Satan, you’re so droll! Hahahahaha!

Because yes, Honor’s stupid heart had done that squishy, painful thing when she saw him. At the moment, Brogan was telling a story about an athlete who did a sport that involved running, and you know, at least she could stop storing away this kind of information so as to be the Most Perfect Companion Ever. At least there was that.

Your attitude could use adjusting, said her aging eggs, fanning themselves. Yowza! Here comes another hot flash!

“You’re kidding. That’s just crazy,” Honor said out loud. Hopefully her comment made sense, since she clearly wasn’t paying a lot of attention.

It wasn’t fair.

She still felt for him. You don’t love a guy for seventeen bleeping years and then just stop. At least, Honor didn’t. Unfortunately.

Brogan had now moved on to a story about his parents, whom he’d just seen in Florida. Kind of surreal that just over two months ago, Honor had been having dinner chez Cain, had flashed Brogan’s parents, had imagined them as her in-laws.

Now, she just hoped her sweat wasn’t showing and was counting the seconds till she could leave for her pretend date. At least the restaurant was practically empty, given the raw weather and the fact that Hugo’s had just opened for the season last week.

You know, she was so good at her job. For the past eleven years, she hadn’t made one major misstep at work. All her decisions had been sound, had proved to be good investments, smart moves.