The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(90)

“Why do we always have to talk about female problems?” Jack asked.

“Shut up, you big baby,” Prudence said, grabbing her coat. “Fine. See you, kids.”

“Take care,” Jack said, shaking Tom’s hand. “Thanks for saving our idiot sister.” Faith stood as well, and started to gather up the cartons of Indian food.

“I’ll take care of that, Faith, but thank you,” Tom said.

“Okay,” she said, going over and smooching his cheek. “We’d be lost without her, you know.” She hugged Honor for a few beats, her cheek soft and plump, her nice Faithie smell enveloping Honor. When she stood up, her eyes were wet. “See you tomorrow,” she said. She kissed Spike on the head, then dragged Blue out from under the table and left.

The house seemed much bigger without them. Tom sat down in the chair opposite the couch and looked at her, his face blank. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Thank you.” It was hard to look at him for some reason. Probably because he’d kissed the stuffing out of her in the shower. When she was naked. And then he’d left.

Faith was right. Men were not in touch with their emotions. “Why’d you kick out my family?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

The words made her bones melt.

“I’m sorry I kissed you.”

Oh, snap. Men were jerks. Even if this particular specimen had saved her doggy’s life.

“Yeah, whatever,” she said

“And I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

We love this guy, said the eggs. “Shut up,” Honor muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, um, nothing. Not you.” She sat up a little straighter and adjusted Spike, who sighed and wrapped a tiny paw around Honor’s thumb. “Don’t apologize, Tom. You saved us both, and I really, really appreciate it.”

“Yes.” He paused. “I want you to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“You won’t ever risk your life for an animal again. Even Ratty. It’s not worth it, Honor.”

Ratty’s—er, Spike’s fur was soft under Honor’s hand, and she could feel the dog’s fragile rib cage moving up and down with each breath.

“Promise?” he said.

“No.”

He straightened. “Honor—”

“No. I’m sorry, but no. I can’t.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Honor.”

“Look, Tom, I’m sorry you had to come in to help me. I really am. I didn’t start the day off thinking, ‘You know what? If Spike ever goes through the ice, I’ll definitely risk my life to save her.’ I just...acted. I didn’t plan it, and I’m sorry you had to be involved.”

“You should be grateful I was! Since you would’ve died without me, don’t forget!” He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was calmer. “But you can’t risk your life for a dog. She’s not a child.”

“I know that. But she means a lot to me.”

“Too much, obviously.”

Honor stroked the top of Spike’s bony little head. “You know, I was like you. I always thought people were kind of dopey about their dogs. But I never had one before Spike. I mean, we had them growing up, but I never had a dog of my own.”

Tom said nothing.

“I proposed to Brogan, did I tell you that? On my birthday. I figured what the hell, I was tired of waiting, so I just did it. You know what he said?”

“He turned you down.”

“Yes. He said I was like an old baseball glove. Something you kept, but not something you needed every day.”

“That’s the worst metaphor I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s a simile, and thank you. But I wasted years on him. A decade of my adult life, waiting for him to really see me. He never did. If anyone had ever described that same relationship to me, I’d have said the woman was being deliberately blind to the fact that she was being used. But every time we were together, I thought, This is the time he’ll say what I’ve been waiting to hear, that he’d finally realize he loves me and I’m special and perfect for him and he wants to spend his whole life with me.”

The memory was still humiliating...all those years, all those other men she measured against a man who didn’t really love her.

“He never said those things, obviously.” She sighed. “So I was watching Faith and her dopey dog one day after he turned me down, and I called the vet and asked if they knew of any dogs who might need a home.” Her throat tightened. “They were treating a dog who was maybe going to make it. Someone had poured gasoline on her. Her fur was mostly missing, and she was deaf in one ear and she was just getting over a broken leg.”

Tom rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Honor, I—”

“When I got to take her home, they had to wrap her in gauze and put her in a special bag, because it hurt her too much to be lifted. And when I was walking to the parking lot, this firefighter came over, Gerard. And Gerard is six foot five and can probably pick up a car, and you know what Spike did? She growled at him. She was protecting me. Five pounds, all beat up and abused, wrapped in gauze, and she was defending me from a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound stranger. She loved me from the minute I saw her. No questions asked.”