The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(37)

Honor blinked. “He is?”

“Yeah.” Jessica gazed down at her, her expression calm. Okay. Right. She must’ve heard the lie from before and was throwing her a rope.

Brogan looked at her expectantly.

He was going to be a dad. She could picture it so clearly—tall, handsome Brogan Cain cradling a little bundle in his arms, looking at the tiny face with wonder.

She took a deep breath. “I have to go. Brogan, congratulations on the...on the baby.” Her voice wobbled. “I mean it. Best wishes.” Tears wrapped around her throat and squeezed.

“Thanks, On.” Brogan stood up. If he hugged her, she would lose it.

He hugged her. Her heart folded in on itself like a dying bug as she breathed in his familiar cologne. Chanel for Men. It always got to her.

“So,” Brogan said, releasing her. “Where is this guy? Can I say hi?”

Oh, fungus. Honor stood up, grabbed her coat. “We’re meeting in the parking lot.” If she didn’t get out of here, she was going to cry. In public. And wouldn’t that suck.

“No, he came in,” Jessica said. “He’s at the bar.”

He was? They all looked, Honor half expecting to see Droog Dragul. But Jess had never met Droog, and if Droog was actually here, it would be the universe’s biggest coincidence. Nope, no Droog.

Brogan took out his wallet (and yes, by all means, let him pay). Mercifully, his phone began playing the theme song to Monday Night Football, and he picked up. “Hey. How’s it going?” he said, turning slightly away.

“Who are you talking about?” Honor whispered to Jess.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t have a date.”

Jessica’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit,” she whispered. “I heard you say you were meeting someone, and he had a cute accent....”

“I was lying,” Honor whispered back.

“But there’s a European at the bar. He’s British, I think.” She pointed to someone’s back. Manningsport wasn’t exactly a microcosm of the world. Europeans were in short supply. Honor looked.

Oh, God. It was Tom Barlow. He seemed to feel her looking, because he glanced over, did a double take and waved.

In about four seconds, Brogan was going to stand up and want to meet her nonexistent boyfriend.

Honor was across the restaurant before she was aware she’d moved. “Hey,” she said without preamble. “I’d be eternally grateful if you’d pretend to be my date for a second.” Please don’t be an ass. And please be sober.

His eyebrows raised. He glanced to where she’d been sitting. “Oh, right,” he said. “There’s the object of the catfight. You look like you might vomit. No puking, please, and if you cop a feel, it’ll cost you extra.” He put his arm around her. “There you are, darling,” he said in a slightly louder voice, and before she knew it, he kissed her on the lips.

Instinctively, she tried to jerk away, but he held her a little closer. “Now, now,” he murmured against her mouth. “We’re deeply in love.”

And he kissed her again.

And that mouth...oh, Mommy, it felt good. Soft and firm, and not too much, but just exactly the kind of kiss a woman would want if she were meeting her man, and something locked inside of Honor opened in a rush.

Then he stopped and smiled at her.

That was some kiss. That was a food-for-thought kiss and would require some serious analysis.

Analysis? the eggs said. You gotta be kidding.

Jessica was fixing a drink behind the bar, and here came Brogan, all tall, easy grace. “Hey, there. I’m Brogan Cain. An old friend of Honor’s.”

“Hallo. Tom Barlow. A new friend of Honor’s.”

“Where are you from?” Brogan asked.

“England.”

“Awesome! I’ve been there a few times. The Olympics, a few soccer matches.”

“Football, mate.”

Brogan laughed easily. “True enough. It’s football when you’re over there.”

Super. Brogan was about to make a new best friend.

Her eyes felt too wide. There was Jeremy the-years-are-precious-egg-wise Lyon, leaving with his boyfriend, Patrick. He waved and gave her a subtle thumbs-up, lest she forget that her breeding years were almost behind her. Emmaline Neal, who worked at the police station with Levi, also waved, holding the door for her mother.

Tom turned to her, and touched her earlobe with one finger. Her entire left side electrified. “Honor, darling, are you hungry?”

She swallowed. “I am. I’m starving. I’m really, really hungry. Let’s eat.”

“I love how she babbles when her blood sugar’s low.” Tom shook Brogan’s hand. “Great meeting you.”

“You, too. Have a good night.” Brogan leaned in to kiss her—something he’d always done, on the cheek, in public, one of the ways he’d always made her feel special. But times were different now, and she took a little step closer to Tom. Brogan caught himself, and for the first time ever, he looked a little...awkward. “Well. See you soon, On.”

They both watched him leave. “Smug bastard, I thought,” Tom said.

“Thanks.” She was suddenly aware that his arm, heavy and warm, was still around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” she said, stepping back. “It was a rock-and-a-hard-place moment.”