Honey Pie (Cupcake Club) - By Donna Kauffman Page 0,35
motioned for her to go on to the truck. “Do you want anything else from the car?”
“No. Just what’s on top is good. Thank you.” She might have made it to the truck and gotten safely inside, buckled herself in, and coolly finished detaching herself from . . . everything, but then she saw Lolly.
Poor, sweet, Lolly was lying on her belly, chin on her paws, studying Honey with a very worried look on her canine face.
Honey’s heart broke a little. Her ability to see and know things didn’t extend to animals or any living beings other than humans, but she did have a heightened awareness of general feelings and mood when it came to any species. Her little . . . event back there, had scared Lolly. Badly.
Without thinking, Honey knelt down in front of the dog and put her face right in front of Lolly’s, who kept her chin on her paws, but her unblinking gaze unwaveringly on Honey’s. “You were a very brave girl, you know that?” she said softly. “Being surrounded by fire like that, but you didn’t panic. You couldn’t get out, so you barked, so he could find you. And you tried to get straight to him when he did. You did so good.”
Lolly didn’t so much as blink, and Honey could still feel her concern.
“You’re a very lucky girl, you know that? Because you have someone looking out for you. Someone who’ll stand by you, no matter what.”
Lolly’s chin lifted just slightly then and her gaze grew more alert, less somber.
“I know you’ll stay true to him, too,” Honey assured. “You keep watching over him, okay? He needs you, too. Whether he says so or not.”
Lolly let out a soft little whine and thumped her tail. Her dark, liquid eyes finally shifted back to hopeful.
Honey smiled, and felt her own heart settle a bit. She might freak out the humans, but at least she could calm the fears of one dog. “Good girl.” She scratched Lolly behind her ears, and when she climbed to her feet, Lolly lifted her head, let her tongue hang out in an anticipatory pant.
“Okay, come on. Time to get in the truck. I think we’re both ready to go.”
Lolly pushed to her feet, then butted her head against Honey’s leg, making her laugh and ruffle the dog’s fur before Lolly trotted around to the back of the truck, tail wagging.
Honey took a breath, relieved to find that she felt much steadier. Lolly had returned the favor, it seemed. No more shakiness, no more trembling. The episode was well and truly over. She just had to make sure that was the last one she ever had.
It was only when Honey turned around that she realized Dylan had been standing right behind her the entire time, arms full of boxes . . . listening to every word.
“Ever owned a dog?” He asked the question off-handedly, but Honey had already figured out that Dylan didn’t do anything off-handedly. She imagined he was usually a man of very few words, and none at all when he could get away with it. His gaze was sharply on hers. To the point that it felt almost like a physical touch. She wasn’t so sure if it was comforting or disconcerting.
“I grew up on a farm,” she said. “We had a wide variety of critters, but never had a dog, no. No house pets.”
“Your . . . thing. It doesn’t happen with animals.” He didn’t make it a question so much as a summation.
“No.” She really didn’t want to get into it. But before she could scoot past him to the passenger door, he continued the conversation.
“Women?”
“What about women?” she asked, truly confused.
“Do they trigger . . . it?”
“Anybody can. Well, not people I’m really close to . . . emotionally, I mean. That seems to block it out. And there’s no rhyme or reason to when or with whom. Other than they have something going on that reaches out and grabs me. I just never know who that’s going to be, or when.”
“So, it’s been easier to avoid people all together.”
“That’s been the operating assumption, yes.”
“For eight years, ten months, two weeks and some number of days.”
Her gaze narrowed, and she had to resist the urge to fold her arms protectively around her waist. No one had ever just . . . talked to her about the curse. Like this. So calmly, so . . . conversationally. No one who wasn’t family, anyway.