Cupcake Club 04 - Honey Pie (23 page)

She turned her gaze fully back to him. “Why do men think that sex is always the answer to every problem?”

He grinned and lowered his head. “Because it often is.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Or, at the very least, provides a nice break from your worries. Come here,” he murmured, and took her mouth slowly as if they had all the time in the world.

She surprised him by sighing against his lips and relaxing into the kiss, into him.

Just like that, slow and languorous was the last thing he wanted. His body growled to life, pulsing hot and hard as he fought the urge to take her the way he'd imagined taking her pretty much every night for the past week and a half.

“I missed this,” she said on a sigh when he finally lifted his head.

All the mad he'd built up over the past week and a half vanished. “I'm right next door, sugar. No need to miss anything.” He kissed her again.

She sighed and let her forehead drop to his chest when he lifted his head again. She felt relaxed and her mad was gone, too.

“It does cure what ails you,” he said.

“Don't gloat,” she replied, but the dry humor was back, and she was still soft and snugged up against him.

“I'll apologize now because I've probably gotten axle grease and God knows what else on you.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “I'm covered in cobwebs, dust, dirt, and reek of burnt bacon. I think we can consider it an even trade.”

“Your glasses are fogged.”

She smiled somewhat smugly. “I know.” Then she put her cheek right back against his damp and dirty work shirt. “At least this time it's for a good reason.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Good God your hair stinks.”

“Sweet talker,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “Tell you what. Why don't I leave you to the fun and excitement that is your day, while I go back and try not to give in to the temptation to just push your Bug into the channel rather than working to fix the damn thing. Then, when we've had enough of that, what say we clean ourselves up and go out to eat some food together like grown-ups do.”

She lifted her head, eyebrows arched above her horn rims. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Dell told me chicks dig stuff like that.”

Honey giggled. “Dell is wise beyond his years.”

“I know. It sort of bites, when you think about it. Fourteen, pretty sure he's a virgin . . . and he has more game than me.”

“We all have our strengths. Hey!” she said when he pinched her behind.

“Is it a date?”

“Yes. I accept. I'd love to. Fair warning, though.”

“Hey!” he said when she pinched him right back. “Sneaky.”

“Like I said, we all have our strengths.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I'd offer to clean your glasses on my shirt, but I'm pretty sure that would just make them worse.”

“You smell like engine grease, and now, bacon smoke. So yeah, thanks, but, no.”

Grinning, he dipped his head and stole another hard, fast kiss, risking that he'd have to wander around the block or something to let his body settle down before heading back next door. It was well worth it.

“Bring the stuff from the inspector with you and we'll look over it while we eat.”

“I'm pretty sure that's in the Things Not To Do part of the dating handbook. But this chick? Yeah, she'd dig that.” She tipped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks. For helping. And being patient. I'm getting there.”

Dylan could have told her about the very last thing he'd been feeling this past week was patient, but however he'd gotten to this moment, it had been worth the struggle. “Eight o'clock?”

“That works.”

He reluctantly let her go, then went over and gave the old-fashioned louvered window handle a good yank and cranked it fully open. “I'll get the other ones in the storage room on my way out.”

“My hero. Thank you.”

He shot her a wink. “My pleasure, sugar.”

He was back in the garage, head under the hood before he realized he was whistling again. He just grinned and put a little more effort into it.

“I
can't thank you enough.” Honey pushed her glasses up and shifted her satchel higher onto her shoulder. “The plumber is scheduled for Friday, and then I'll be out of your hair.”

Kit stopped folding the little individual cupcake boxes and smiled at her. “It's really absolutely no problem. Lani and I feel like we've kicked you out of your own home. The least we can do is let you use the bathroom and shower in the building you own. You've got a key to the separate second floor entrance, so anytime you want. Truly. I just wish there was enough room up there for you to camp out. You could have kept the trunk and boxes up there longer. They weren't in the way.”

“It's okay. I've been going through them little by little, so it's easier to have them with me at the bookstore. And no more apologies. It's all going to work out for the best. Once I get a handle on what needs to be done, things should move a little faster.”

Kit laughed. “Don't count on it, sister. Lani and I thought we'd have this place ready to go a lot sooner than it's taken us.”

“But you only started the actual renovation last fall, right? That's actually not too bad considering how much you had to change the function of the place.”

“Maybe it's just felt like five years,” Kit said with a smile. She looked around at the cheerful, kitschy vintage baking décor that matched the feeling of Cakes by the Cup interior, the bright sunshiny colors, and the charming, storybook feel of the Dre-designed signage. “Even if it had taken that long, it would have been worth it. It's not mine, but it sure feels like it.”

Honey studied Kit as she looked around at her little shop. She was about the same height and build as Honey, but with short red hair that provided a lively frame for captivating blue eyes. She had a quick smile and always seemed animated. Honey imagined Kit and Morgan together. With his dark good looks and easygoing demeanor, they would make quite the striking couple. “I can't even believe this was once Bea's shop. It looks like you're all set to open your doors.”

“One more week. Next Sunday,” Kit said, all but humming with excitement. “You have to drop in. We're giving away little mini cupcake treats.” She pointed at rows of smaller boxes she'd already folded, perched on the shelves behind her. “Cutest things ever. And discount cards for our Cater Your Cupcake and Cupcakes Gone Postal services. I know you won't need the latter, but hey, you have to open your shop at some point and what better way to celebrate than with a catered cupcake party? We do custom cakes, so we could do some fun toppers to go with your adorable creations. I looked at your catalog online and I have some ideas if you're interested. I'm picturing little gnome tops, and Dre does the most amazing sugar work. She makes these stunning spun fairy wings.”

Honey laughed. “Oh, you're good.”

Kit beamed and curtsied. “I sold a lot of pie in my day.”

“So I heard. I'm sorry, about what happened with your family's business. Alva mentioned it to me,” Honey said by way of explanation. “That's brutal.”

“It was,” Kit replied readily. “In some ways, I can't believe it's been less than a year ago since I came here and took Lani's job offer. I feel like Atlanta was a lifetime ago. A very different lifetime.” She smiled, clearly happy and content. “If you'd told me I'd come here and find not only a new career path, but a family, a community, a home—I wouldn't have believed it possible. Part of me feels like I've been here forever, but Sugarberry is like that.” She gave Honey a reassuring look. “You'll understand. You'll be so glad you came here, Honey.”

“I already am. At first I was ready to turn around and head back home.” Honey smiled. “It was probably a good thing my car broke down, or I might have. But I already do understand what you're saying, and I am glad I'm staying. Everyone has been so . . . just so great. I wasn't expecting that. Other than my parents and Bea, I've never had people be so welcoming, much less so understanding, or . . . or open to dealing with my—

“Oh crap.” She reached up and dabbed at the tears that had sprung to the corners of her eyes. “I never cry. Now I swear I do it all the time. I'm going to ruin my makeup.” She laughed and hiccupped. “I never wear makeup.”

Kit came bustling around the corner and handed her a few napkins with the Babycakes logo on the front. “Here, here. I'm sorry.”

“No, don't be. Good tears.” Honey laughed as she was forced to sniffle. “You have no idea what it's meant for me. You all have accepted me so openly and willingly. Even the parts I was fully prepared to hide at all costs.”

Kit gave her an understanding smile, but her eyes sparkled. “Well, I'm not going to lie. I've been dying to ask you all about your secret talent. I didn't have the chance to know your aunt, I'm sorry to say, but I've heard so many amazing things about her. And Barbara Hughes can't stop talking about how you saved her husband's life.”

“Well, I wouldn't go that far. It was—”

“It was amazing is what it was. She didn't even realize you'd had a vision, and right there on her porch. Alva is beside herself that she didn't get to break the news in her column, you know.”

Honey's expression fell. “She asked to interview me, but . . . I didn't even think about that when I was talking to Barbara. I mean, I wasn't planning on telling her, I was just following up because Dylan had talked to Frank to make sure he didn't go out on the boat when that storm came, and I wanted to make sure—what?” Honey broke off when she saw Kit was obviously trying to swallow a knowing smile.

“Oh, nothing . . . except . . . we're all dying to know how you got Dylan Ross, man of few words and even fewer social appearances, to do that. I mean, he gives new meaning to tall, dark, and brooding.”

Honey sniffled and sputtered out a laugh at the same time. “You know, that's exactly what I thought when I first met him, almost verbatim. And, you're right, he's not exactly the chatty type, not normally anyway. But when he does talk, it's because he's given it a lot of thought. And he means what he says. He does sincerely care about this island and the people on it. He helps out where he can, doing what he can do. I still don't know the whole story about his family history—and I don't need to. He'll tell me if he wants me to know. But I know it was a rough one and that he's had his share of being in a spotlight he never asked for. I completely understand how that feels.

“Still, it hasn't stopped him from being loyal, or from caring,” Honey went on. “Do you know he spends personal time tracking down old tractor and lawnmower parts for the older men on the island who don't get around well or don't understand how to use computers to do vintage parts searches? Dell told me Dylan helped him find that old motorbike and track down parts for it. He even took Dell out and introduced him to the salvage guys he works with, taught him how to search old junkyards. Dylan might pretend that Lolly is some kind of obligation, but he ran into a burning building to rescue her, then paid what had to be a crazy vet bill to have her—” Honey broke off and a little heat climbed into her cheeks as Kit stopped trying to hide a wide grin.

“It's okay. You like him. And what's not to like? He might be tall, dark, and mysterious, but no one has anything bad to say about him. They just . . . no one here seems to know him very well. But it sounds like you're getting to and that he's a pretty good guy. Also sounds like the feeling is mutual. From what I understand, he's very protective of you.”

Honey bristled a little at that. “He doesn't have to be. I've taken care of myself all this time, and—”

“No, no, I didn't mean it like that. Well, I did, but not because he thinks you need protecting. And . . . well, it's kind of nice, isn't it? To have someone who wants to stand up for you, even if you don't need him to?”

Honey heard the emotion in Kit's voice, and realized she was talking from personal experience. “Is that how it is with you and Morgan?”

“We have each other's back, yes, and we seemed to have a need to do that for each other. I don't know why or how two people connect. I never had before. But when you do, it's natural, and instinctive. Riley and Quinn are like that. In spades. Completely adorable together. Have you met them yet?”

Honey shook her head, but Kit kept right on talking. “Listening to you talk about Dylan, it's clear you two have the same thing.” She laughed. “I'm betting he'd be just as bristly at the idea that you're protective of him. You know he doesn't need it, but you're in his corner all the same.”

Honey hadn't thought about it like that, nor had she really examined what she thought about the dynamic of her relationship with Dylan. But, maybe Kit had a point. “I really don't know what we have. I-I'll be honest, I haven't had a relationship, or tried to have one, since I was in college, so to say I'm out of practice—hell, I never even had practice, not really.”

Kit nodded and lifted her hands and bowed a little. “Sister, you're talking to a woman who was married to pie for her entire life. Trust me. In this case, it's not like riding a bicycle. In fact, no previous experience is required. When the right person comes into your life, you figure it out as you go along, because you can't imagine doing anything else.” Kit gestured to Honey's stitched floral skirt and rose colored, cap sleeve sweater. “Which is why you need to get out of here and go start your date. Start figuring it out.” She folded her hands and braced them under her chin and batted her eyelashes. “Then come to Cupcake Club tomorrow night and tell us every last detail. Not that we're begging you. We're above that . . . except we're totally not.”

Honey laughed. “I don't kiss and tell, but—”

“So, you've kissed him? I mean, Morgan thought you might have been . . . you know, when he walked up on you two in the alley that night. Seriously, is it as smoldering as we all know it has to be?”

Honey's laugh spluttered. “You're actually not kidding, are you?”

Kit shamelessly shook her head.

“You forget, I've seen Morgan,” Honey said. “He's . . . well, he's stunning.”

Kit beamed. “True, all true. I am the luckiest girl in the world, trust me. Plus? He's a great kisser. But Dylan is something of an island legend, an enigma, the ultimate mystery man, at least when it comes to members of the opposite sex. I'm told he never dates anyone who lives on the island. Not that it's stopped women of all ages from trying. Then you're here for five seconds and wham! I hope you'll forgive me for saying this, but we didn't peg you as his type. Not that anyone really knows what his type is. But we figured the cliché—blond, fake boobs—because we're shallow and unimaginative. But you're cool and interesting, and this kind of wild mix of ethereal with those eyes, and funky-bohemian with your clothes and awesome glasses. Honestly, don't tell me you made that skirt, because that stitch work is amazing. If you did, then why you don't sell stuff like that in your catalog, I have no idea. Anyway, everyone is curious. How did you do it?”

Honey's mouth had long since dropped open, but when Kit ran out of steam, she snapped it shut again. “I . . . well, thank you. About the skirt. I did make it, and no, I hadn't ever thought about including clothes in my catalog.” She smiled. “But I might now.”

“So, how did it start with you and Dylan? I mean . . . did he flirt with you? Because I can't even picture that. Not because of you,” Kit rushed to add. “He just doesn't seem the type to do anything overt like that. I figure he never had to, since women probably throw themselves on him. At him, I mean. Well, probably on him, too.” She laughed, even as her fair skin turned a little pink.

Honey laughed, too, mostly because from the moment she'd laid eyes on Dylan, she'd wanted to jump him. “Actually, he wasn't remotely attracted to me. In fact, I'm pretty sure he thought I was nuts. But then, when I think how I leaped out of my skin around him, it's not a surprise. I was a little bit nuts.” She gave Kit a self-deprecating smile. “I hadn't been around people for a long time, and he was . . . a lot to be around. So I was kind of jumpy. I guess it started because I had a vision when he grabbed my arms to keep me from dropping stuff I was getting out of my car. And . . . I don't know, things changed after that.”

“Well, I guess they would! Was the vision about him? Of course it was,” Kit answered herself. “Did it freak him out?”

“No, that's just it. It didn't freak him out. In fact, he was really matter-of-fact about it, and . . . it stunned me to have someone sort of shrug and accept what had happened for what it was. I mean, he asked some questions and tried to understand it better, but then we sort of moved on as if it was just one of those things you make allowances for. Like being allergic to stuff, or . . . you know?”

“I don't,” Kit admitted. “I mean, I understand it, but I can't imagine dealing with it.”

Honey shrugged, feeling a little more self-conscious, but it was more a kneejerk reaction than because she felt uncomfortable. “He told me I should just own it. Put it out there as if it were just a natural part of me and expect folks to deal with it. And so . . . I have been doing that. Well, little by little. I think that's why I told Barbara Hughes.”

“Normalize it. I do get that. Well, Barbara thinks you're the best thing since guardian angels. You've seen her B&B, so you know she has a thing for angels.”

Honey laughed. “You know, I hadn't really thought about that, but you're right, she does have a few pillows and stitched samplers with a running theme.”