The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(81)

“No problem,” Honor said. She started to go into Charlie’s room, then did an about-face and went into his room instead.

Bethany’s eyebrow raised.

Bollocks.

Back down the stairs they went, returning to the kitchen. “If you don’t mind, we’ll wait for Honor to come back down with her answers,” Bethany said, scooping up Ratty.

“Not at all. Are you sure you don’t want some water? Or that wine?” He smiled again. “I imagine we’re your last stop of the day.”

“When you put it that way, sure. Why not? White if you have it.”

“We certainly do. Honor’s family are winemakers. We’ve got all sorts of lovely choices. Gewürztraminer? Pinot gris? Chardonnay?”

“Chardonnay is great.”

“Wonderful.” He poured her a generous glass and handed it to her. “Do you mind if I start dinner?” he asked.

“Go right ahead,” she answered.

Tom pulled off his sweater, revealing the Henley-style T-shirt he wore underneath. Ms. Woods flushed, staring at his Union Jack tattoo. “Can’t forget where I’m from, can I?” he asked with a wink.

“And you have another one?” she asked, taking a sip of her wine and pointing to his other arm.

“I do, yes. Bit a youthful mistake.” He pulled up his left sleeve and showed her the Celtic circle, which had absolutely no meaning to him but had seemed incredibly cool when he was seventeen. Was he whoring it up a bit for the sake of Ms. Woods?

Yes.

“What happened to your eye?” she murmured.

“Funny story,” he said, and told her about the class and Honor’s ring. “It’s better now. The doctor did a nice job stitching it up, don’t you think?” He leaned down so she could inspect it, then smiled.

“You poor thing,” she said, her voice husky. Spike growled.

“How long have you worked for Immigration, Bethany?” he asked.

“Fourteen years,” she answered. “You’re right, this wine is wonderful.”

“Great.” He got out some chicken, grabbed a handful of parsley and a few cloves of garlic and started chopping. “You must have quite a lot of stories,” he added.

Cooking, he’d noted over the years, was a strangely intimate activity. Some of his best conversations with Charlie had been in the kitchen as he’d cooked, back in the day. With Melissa, too, who’d always appreciated not having to put dinner together after a workday.

It worked with Bethany, too. “We see all sorts of things,” she said, taking another sip of wine. “These visits, we call them bed-checks. Make sure the couple is really living together and not just faking it. You know, is her stuff in the bathroom, or is it just his? Do they actually know each other, or are they complete strangers? You’d be surprised how many people think they can pull off this kind of thing.”

“Really.”

“There was this one time,” she began, and with that, she started on a story about a green-card ring in which couples would try to make it appear they’d been together for months by Photoshopping pictures, pasting their heads onto other people’s bodies. “So in one picture, she weighs maybe a hundred pounds. In the next, supposedly on the same skiing trip, she’s double the size. Can you believe that? Can you, Spike?”

Tom smiled. “Funny,” he said.

“It is funny,” Bethany said. “Stupid, but funny. At least you two haven’t lied about how long you’ve been together.” She drained her wine. “How did you meet, anyway?”

“We met at O’Rourke’s,” he said, nudging the chicken. “The little bar in town here. I saw her, and I thought, ‘That’s her, Tommy, mate. That’s your wife.’ Felt like I’d been hit in the head with a sledgehammer.” He grinned. “That sounds like a cheesy pickup line.”

“No. Not at all. It sounds romantic, doesn’t it, Spikey baby?”

Honor came back into the kitchen, looking sweaty and rumpled. “All done,” she said, handing over the papers.

“Right, right,” Bethany said. “Boy, that smells good. I’m starving.”

“Would you like to stay?” Tom asked. Honor shot him a murderous look.

“I’d love to!” Bethany answered instantly. Behind her, Honor threw up her hands.

“Lovely. Darling, set the table, won’t you?”

She did, rattling the plates and nearly dropping the couscous. He gave her a warning look, but she seemed incapable of relaxing.

“You’re a great cook,” Bethany said, falling upon dinner like she’d just got back from forty days in the desert. “This is fantastic. Can I give Spike a bite?”

At least Bethany was happy. Honor, on the other hand, pushed her food around and remained silent until he gave her a sharp look. She took a few bites. Was not doing a great job convincing Bethany they were madly in love.

“Okay!” Bethany announced, pushing back her plate. “What I like to do here is ask you the same questions Honor has already answered and see how well your answers match.”

“Fire away,” he said. Kicked Honor under the table, as she looked as if her dog had just been bulldozed in the street. Speaking of, where was Ratty? Peeing in another of his shoes?