things they don’t want to hear.”
That damnable hint of a smile returned. “Why, sugar? You revealin’ their dirty laundry? Tellin’ secrets they wanted to keep hidden?”
Honey shook her head. “I only tell people if it’s something bad, something they can prevent. Otherwise . . .”
“Otherwise, you have to live with knowin’ a whole lot about folks, things you’d rather not know. Things you know they’d really rather you not know. I’m guessing you don’t pick up on stuff that’s minor or unimportant. Must be uncomfortable.”
“You could say that.”
“So . . . why the fire?” His expression remained open, but there was nothing casual about the way he looked at her.
Honey merely lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Because it was a recent traumatic thing? I don’t know.” As the adrenaline started to seep away, she felt the fatigue settle in. She’d forgotten how much the events took out of her. Well, not so much forgotten as blocked out. This one had been far more powerful than usual, so the weariness seemed to come on more swiftly. Either that or it was still the lingering fatigue from her trip. Perhaps both. “I don’t ever know why.”
“So, it’s not always a warning.”
“Not always. Usually, it’s something powerfully affecting the person. I’m not surprised, in this case. The fire didn’t happen that long ago, and . . . you almost died. Even if you think you’ve dealt with that . . .” She let her words trail off.
“I’m guessin’ it’s not generally happy stuff that triggers your reaction, either.”
“Not generally, no.”
He did it again. He smiled. It was slow, almost lazy.
But she knew that his mind and manner were anything but slow and lazy, despite his laconic drawl. For the first time, she saw a glimmer of what she thought looked like . . . appreciation in his eyes—which couldn’t be right. Maybe she was more wiped out than she’d thought.
“Well, sugar, you must have been real fun at parties.”
“A laugh riot,” she shot back, annoyed with his amusement because there was absolutely nothing funny about the curse. And yet . . . he was taking it all so calmly in stride as if it were nothing more than a cheesy parlor trick—which was annoying . . . and annoyingly reassuring. She kind of liked that he felt comfortable to not only talk calmly about it . . . but tease her about it. She might even like that a lot. Because it was Dylan, and he got it . . . so it was weirdly okay. Dammit.
He walked toward her then, and it was like her brain stuttered. She was still trying to process the strength and scope of what had happened, while also dealing with the immensely conflicting feelings she was having about him. The last thing she needed was him back in her personal space.
She went utterly still, debating if flight stood a better chance than fight, but he walked past her and set the two boxes he’d had in his arms the whole time into the back of his truck.
Feeling ridiculous and even more tired, she watched him scoop Lolly up and put her in the back, too. Honey really needed some quiet time alone to regroup, shake off the jumpiness, and settle her nerves. She breathed a sigh of relief, and, assuming he’d gone around to the driver’s side door now that he’d satisfied his curiosity about her “gift,” she took one final moment to gather herself before she had to ride in the close confines of the cab with him.
So she wasn’t at all prepared, when he turned toward her and neatly boxed her in between him and his truck. He didn’t touch her, and, for some reason, she trusted that he wouldn’t, but she shrank back nonetheless. Out of habit more than any real alarm. He’d demonstrated he understood how easily triggered she was.
“I don’t need crazy in my life,” he said, looking into her eyes with such focused intensity she could only stare back. He wasn’t frowning, he wasn’t smiling. He was . . . invading. “I’ve had more than my share.”
He wasn’t touching her, but it was as if he was reaching inside of her, down deep, by the sheer intensity of his gaze, and willing her to understand him.
“I’m not trying to be in your—”
“Shh,” he said, a mere whisper. “You might not want to be, but ever since you’ve gotten here, you’ve done nothing but. That thing you got inside you is