The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(72)

And then again, there was that lust.

Last night, she sat at the kitchen table after dinner and filled out the paperwork. Learned a few things about Thomas Jude Barlow. First, he was younger than she was by three years. Just in case the years are precious wasn’t enough. Secondly, he’d been born in the back of a cab.

Thirdly, well...she couldn’t remember what thirdly was, not with Tom in the shower just fourteen or so feet away.

He’d been about to kiss her the other night on the couch. And she stopped it. Why, she had no flippin’ idea. Cowardice, probably. Because if he kissed her, she’d sleep with him, and if she slept with him, she was pretty sure she’d fall in love with him, and she was already a bit swoony, and he wasn’t. Not at all.

Men didn’t feel the same way women did about sex. They’d take it when offered, same as they wouldn’t pass up a cookie warm from the oven. No, it was the women who counted calories and fell in love. Which was really not fair. Okay, Pru didn’t count calories, not the way she and Carl were going through hot fudge these days. And Faith didn’t, either, always looking like a  p**n  star when she ate dessert, which was often.

The water turned off, and Honor resisted the urge to run into the hallway and get a glimpse of Tom in a towel. She got dressed instead, feeling clumsy and irritable with lust. Spent four minutes with Tom before he left for the Barbarian Horde at his college. She felt almost jealous. Maybe she’d take a mechanical engineering class, too.

Her work morning was filled with eight scheduled phone calls, a marketing meeting with Ned, Jack and Jessica to talk about wine club sales and writing an article for a tourism magazine. Then, she somehow acquired Goggy, who showed up at the office after lunch, when Honor was finishing up a conference call with the sales staff. “Who’s this?” she asked, staring suspiciously at Jessica. “Honor, who is this?”

“It’s Jessica, Goggy. Guys, my grandmother just came in,” Honor said.

“Hi, Mrs. Holland!” came a chorus of voices from the phone.

“How do you do that?” Goggy asked, ever amazed that Edison’s little invention had such diversity. “It sounds like there’s a dozen people in there!”

“It’s a conference call,” Honor said.

“Amazing!” The old lady clucked in awe.

“Okay, call me with any questions. Thank you!”

There was a chorus of goodbyes, and Honor hung up. “This is Jessica Dunn, Goggy. You met her before.” Was it her imagination, or was Goggy forgetting more these days?

“Have I?” Goggy pursed her lips. “I don’t remember. You’re very pretty, dear.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Holland. Would you like some coffee?”

“Oh, no, thank you. It goes right through me. I used to be able to drink it all day long, but not anymore.”

“Jess, will you email those talking points to the gang?” Honor asked. Now that she was used to it, it was pretty nice having an assistant.

“You bet. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Holland.”

“I’m sorry if I interrupted, Honor. I didn’t realize you were on the phone,” Goggy whispered. Better late than never.

“I’ve got a bunch of errands to do, Goggy. What can I do for you?”

Goggy sighed. “You young people. Always running around.”

“I have to go to Rushing Creek. Want to come along?” It was all part of the sainthood campaign. Honor was fairly sure she was a shoe-in, but she did love her grandmother.

“Rushing Creek? That place? I’d rather be murdered in my own bed than live there,” Goggy said happily. “But I’ll come, sure! Thank you, sweetheart!”

It took Goggy fifteen minutes at the Old House to find a coat (“in case it rains”), apply more Blushing Peach lipstick (“you never know who you’ll run into”), go to the bathroom (“I’d probably catch a disease at that horrible mental hospital”) and trundle into the car.

Sainthood seemed assured.

“How’s Tom?” Goggy asked on the car ride over.

“He’s great.”

“How did you meet again?”

Honor shot her grandmother a look. No, it seemed Goggy was completely serious. “Um, you fixed us up, remember?”

“I know that, dear,” the old lady said. “I meant where did you meet him. I misspoke. Don’t get that look on your face. I don’t have Alzheimer’s.”

“We met at O’Rourke’s.”

“Right, right. I’m glad for you, honey. It’s nice that one of us found happiness through an arranged marriage.”

“It’s not really an arranged marriage, Goggy,” Honor said, hoping Goggy wouldn’t inadvertently blow it. “You fixed us up. You have good instincts with people.” Flattery would distract her, hopefully.

“That’s true,” Goggy said. “I always thought so, but it’s nice to hear. How does this car work again? There’s no key.”

As they pulled into the Rushing Creek complex, Honor wished for the thousandth time that her grandparents would consider living here. So much safer, cleaner, brighter... “You sure you and Pops want to stay in the Old House forever?” Honor asked.

“It’s our home, honey.”

“I know, but didn’t you ever want to live somewhere else?”