of adjustment, wouldn’t it wear thin in the long term? She couldn’t help thinking it would. What would she bring to him? How would she be enhancing his life, in order to make that kind of sacrifice worthwhile?
Where would either of them be when he realized there was a huge imbalance in their relationship? He didn’t need more heartache in his life. She didn’t think she would survive living and working next door to a man who could quite possibly be the love of her life . . . if she wasn’t any longer the love of his.
For the first time in her life she wished she could have a vision about herself, something to guide her and tell her which way to go. “And ain’t that a kick in the pants,” she muttered. She thought about her aunt Bea, and knew what she’d say. She’d tell Honey she was a damn fool for not going for it, for not sticking it out and letting herself and everyone else just find out how it would all turn out. But would even Bea agree that it was worth it, given the potential cost if it didn’t? Sure, Honey could tell herself she had the consolation of knowing she’d tried, but somehow that didn’t make her feel all that much better.
The bell on the front door jingled again, which surprised her because she was pretty sure she’d locked it after the repairman left. She looked up to find Dylan strolling toward the open door to the storage room.
Honey actually blinked her eyes to make sure she hadn’t just conjured him up from her thoughts. Maybe she was having her own personal vision.
Except nothing was ephemeral about the man entering her workroom. He didn’t say hello, didn’t pause at the door, didn’t even take a look around at all the changes that had happened since she’d turned the room into her workshop. From the looks of him, he had only one thing on his mind and she had no doubt what—or who—that was.
“Hi,” he said somewhat gruffly, then without waiting for a response, he pulled her from her stool, into his arms, and kissed the absolute living daylights out of her.
She made it past the first split second of shock, past the second split second of half-expecting a vision . . . and then she sighed a soft sound of complete and utter capitulation, threw her arms around him, and kissed him right back with everything she was worth.
He groaned, maybe even growled a little as he took the kiss deeper and a lot more carnal. On the fringes of her thoughts, she worried he’d clear the worktable with a single sweep of his arm, but decided it was a small price to pay as long as he didn’t stop kissing her, didn’t let her think, and didn’t let her worry.
She gasped and whimpered a little when he finally lifted his head.
“It’s late,” he said roughly, his eyes so intent, his gaze so focused on her, she wasn’t too sure he wasn’t having his own vision. Although maybe he was, at least about who and what he wanted. “And it’s past time I did this. Come home, Honey. I’m done letting us figure this out apart. It doesn’t make any sense. If we want to be together, then, dammit, we need to work it out together.”
He framed her face, brushed callused thumbs gently over her cheeks. “I miss the hell out of you.”
She smiled even as her eyes burned. “I miss you, too. I was just sitting here having quite the pity party for myself.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said as plainly as she could.
“Well, you’re already failing on that point.”
Her heart skipped several beats, then dropped right to her stomach. “I’m so sorry,” she said, forcing the words out past the thickness in her throat. “But it would be so much worse if I led you on, then couldn’t hack it—”
“Trying to make things work when we both acknowledge the problem going in is not leading anyone on. I’m a big boy, Honey. If I get hurt, I’ll survive. So will you. It’s a risk we should be willing to take. We could take the leap, and one of us could get hit by that proverbial truck the next day. So . . . what? Do you just say no thank-you, something bad might happen at some point and we’ll get hurt? Well, guess what? Love