14. Honoria
Chapter Fourteen
Honoria
Lemon met me at the barn. Wombat was nowhere in sight, again. I shored up my smile and performed all the small talk and pretended to be interested in Molly’s day, but it was becoming such a routine, that I wasn’t paying attention.
“Are you okay?”
Her question caught me off guard. I almost spat out the usual, “I’m fine,” but it caught in my throat. “I need therapy.”
While blurting it out like that was likely proof I was walking the razor’s edge, Lemon didn’t seem surprised. “Everyone does. Or they don’t and it’s all a scam, but the world is a lonely-ass place and talking to another person always helps. So. Why do you need therapy?”
I glanced away, fixing on the farm buildings and the various sheds and pens they’d built over the years. “I’m a jealous bitch?”
“Are you asking for confirmation?”
“Maybe,” I admitted.
She hesitated. “Is it Wombat? Are you worried that he’s cheating on you?”
That came out of nowhere. Suddenly, I had a new fear. But... “It would be hard to call it cheating since we’re not really together.” I glanced at her to watch her reaction. Maybe I’d be able to tell if he’d already moved on. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did.
I’d been too wrapped up in work. I’d avoided him. We never got that date I’d promised. Which really meant there was no reason I could be jealous because there was nothing there.
Right?
Why was I watching her face so closely?
“Don’t worry. He’s been busy with the club a lot lately. I hope it calms down before March.”
“What happens in March?”
She shot me a long-suffering sigh. “Orphan season.”
My heart caught. I couldn’t get the word out.
Lemon must have seen my distress and elaborated.
“It usually starts with a squirrel or two. Or maybe even a possum batch. Then there’s bunnies and raccoons and skunks, and that’s not even so bad.
It’s when all the kittens show up.” Her eyes went a little crazy for a moment.
“They need to be fed every two to three hours.”
Was it evil of me to think about gifting Jim and Denise a kitten?
I shoved that aside and focused on Lemon. “How do you manage?”
She shrugged. “Wombat helps. He also makes sure whoever is prospecting is on kitten duty. It’s become a thing. Big bad bikers with tattoos wiping kitten butts.” Her laughter turned a little wicked.
“That I’d pay to see.”
“The funniest one was Fly. He was useless.” She got quiet for a minute. “But, he’s the only one who comes back, and this year he’s got his own recovery to work so...”
“He was the one in the hospital?”
“Yep. Fell out a window.”
Or was pushed according to the police report. I bet that wasn’t the whole story. It happened the same day I met Wombat.
No wonder he was so anxious to post bail.
Speaking of the devil... his truck rumbled down the driveway. He parked it next to my car. DA was with him and bounded out to sniff around Molly. They greeted each other like they hadn’t seen each other in months. I had a hard time wrangling the leash.
Wombat spoke a sharp word to DA, and he sat in place. His tongue lolled out and drool dripped to the ground.
Molly wasn’t much better. She’d sat at Wombat’s command, too, but was having a much harder time sitting still. She edged closer to DA until they were almost within touching distance.
“All that training...right out the window when those two see each other.” Lemon mused. To her brother she said, “You’re home, finally.”
Wombat’s eyes met mine. “Yeah. Finally.”
He looked guilty. Interesting.
Lemon interrupted with, “I was just telling Honor that it’s okay to be a jealous bitch once in while.”
She was? I glared at her because Wombat didn’t need to know that.
Especially when it didn’t apply to him. I needed to set the record straight.
“It’s about Jim and Denise. He brought their newborn to show off the firm.
” I almost couldn’t wait until this paternity leave was over. Maybe then he’d stop.
Wombat’s expression morphed into a frown. “That’s cold.”
The words flew out of my mouth before I thought about them. “No shit.”
“Oh, you’re jealous of his girlfriend?” Lemon asked.
“Wife,” I corrected. And no. Not really.
“The side chick before divorce finalized.” Wombat snuck in because Lemon’s questions were written all over her face.
“That bastard. You know, I have a castration kit Pop-pop used on the cows.”
It was wrong to laugh. Color me evil.
“That would be a felony, I think.” Wombat said.
But we were all thinking about it. “In case you’re tempted, it is.” Unfortunately.
“How do you know?” Wombat asked.
“What?”
“How do you know what’s a felony, and what’s not?”
That was simple. “Classification. Malum in se, which means ‘wrong in itself’ and refers to acts which violate moral or public principles like murder, rape, arson, and willful castration with malicious intent, so... by that scale, it is.”
“What if it’s a public service?” Lemon argued.
Wombat pointed at her. “Yeah, when you do it because everyone knows it should be done.”
“I’d have to prove that to the jury.”
“Is there a book where this is all written down?” Wombat asked.
“Several. But if you had to pick one source I suppose you could consult a legal dictionary for most of the terms.”
“That’s a thing?” Lemon asked.
Oh yes. I described the volume I had at home. “I have two copies. I’ll bring one over.” I never used the second book.
“Cool.” Wombat grinned from ear to ear.
Lemon stuck her thumb at him. “He’s actually read the dictionary. I haven’t.”
“I read everything.” He flushed as he realized he spoke the words. “Forget I said that.”
“Reading is nothing to be ashamed of.”
Lemon laughed. “It is when they’re my smutty books.”
His color deepened. “That’s enough.”
My cheeks heated as well. “I think reading is the start of a great education.”
Lemon couldn’t hold her snort in. “I’ll bet.”
Wombat cleared his throat. “Sis? Leave.”
“What? Did you get all hot and bothered and now need to talk to your girlfriend alone?”
He tipped his head. “It’s either that, or I kick your ass. Pick your poison.”
She pointed at him. “You don’t want to commit a felony.”
He took a swipe at her, which she dodged.
“Missed me.” She danced away a bit farther. “Oh, and Honor told me last week she’s got wicked plans for you!”
“Traitor!” I yelled at her. She laughed and kept laughing until she disappeared into the house.
“Wicked?”
“I forgot to bring you dinner.”
“That’s not wicked.”
It wasn’t. But the after-dinner what and where I may or may not have fantasized about several times certainly was. “I’m sorry we didn’t celebrate your freedom.”
His expression shifted. My gaze snagged on the way his lips moved. And then on the tip of his tongue as it touched the bottom lip, leaving a glistening trail of unrealized kisses in its wake.
The pause hung in the frosty air.
He broke it with a question. “Do you want to go or stay?”
Stay, please. That was my pussy talking. “I owe you dinner.”
“I’m not dressed for dinner.”
“What about dinner at my house?”
“What’s the dress code there?”
The temptation... “Naked,” I whispered.
His voice deepened. “I like that dress code.”
“Follow me?”
The nod started slowly. “...To the ends of the earth.”
Why did that send a tingle down my spine? “Let me get Molly situated, and we’ll...?” I pointed toward the highway.
“Yes.” His blue eyes flashed with hunger.
I was doing this.
The more I repeated it to myself, the more it felt right. I was doing this. Damn the fear, damn the potential ruining of my reputation, and damn Jim and Denise with their perfect little family. I wanted this.
As I drove home, I kept checking my rear view to make sure Wombat didn’t lose me. That’s how much I wanted this.
Sure, it was embarrassing and kind of taboo—at least for me. But we’d already proven compatible once. And that was the deciding factor as I directed him to park in the guest space designated for my townhouse and navigated my car into the garage. He met me beside the car as I unclipped Molly.
I pressed the remote for the big door, and unlocked my house.
Before I got it open, he pulled me close. “Kiss me.”
The rumbling of the door stopped, and there was silence. No one but our dogs could see us. And they wouldn’t judge.
“Honor?”
This was huge. Bigger than a fling, more momentous than a few hours of insanity. This was a choice. I could still walk away and—
Who was I kidding? Myself, that’s who. I needed this.
I leaned in and matched his lips to mine. My body melted against his. The contact felt right. It was exactly where I wanted to be and—
“Open your door. Let’s get the dogs settled.”
Ah, the voice of sanity. Wombat was right. It was cold in the garage and much warmer inside the house. The ache between my thighs wouldn’t overrule me this time.
I was trembling as I opened my home and my routines to him.
Molly rushed in, racing up the stairs to get to her food and water bowl. DA was on her heels.
He made a mess of the water, ate some of her food, then they ran off to the living room with a horrible case of the zoomies.
“Dumb Ass, chill.”
He didn’t listen to Wombat. There were levels to explore and new scents to smell. Molly never had canine company here, and it was surprising to see her racing to her spots as if she were showing them off. “They’re just excited, that’s all.”
Molly tore across the couch in my office area and leapt to the armchair beside it before pouncing onto her bed and then off. DA followed, displacing the set and rolling off as the chair hit the ridge where the hardwood floor met kitchen tile and halted abruptly.
“It’s their first sleepover in your house.” He looked at me with laughter dancing in his eyes.
A sleepover? Was that where this was going?
Hours, he’d promised.
I nodded to let him know that I was on board with this.
He relaxed a little and took off his coat. Then he put the chair into its original position and looked around.
I picked the coat up and let him know I was taking it downstairs to the closet in the foyer.
Most of the living space in my home was on the second level which had almost floor-to-ceiling arched windows facing the cul-du-sac.
When I bought the place, I was only looking for something available, close to work, and safe enough to take Molly outside morning and night.
When I discovered this end unit with its odd split-level first and second floors, an open staircase climbing from the landing and garage level all the way to the bedrooms at the top, I had reservations.
Especially about the stairs. But I also didn’t want a single-level home where someone could break into my bedroom on a whim.
That meant either buying a home farther out, or settling for one of the older buildings downtown. Nothing I’d seen was perfect.
Then I walked into the backyard of this place.
The end lot came with trees and a green space insulated by the outer ring of townhomes protecting this little U-turn.
It wasn’t a lot of maintenance, and I paid for a service to keep it nice.
The ground level had a patio covered by the second-floor deck.
I could sit in the shade there while Molly lounged in the grass.
The only thing missing was a fenced yard. But the HOA had been fighting me on that.
When I climbed the stairs again, Wombat was on the big couch in the living room area that took up the front of the house. My designer had created a quaint conversation group she insisted was perfect for gatherings.
I’d never had guests here.
“Where is your TV?”
His arm sprawled across the back of the couch, inviting me to snuggle into that space. But there was one problem with his choice. “I don’t have a TV down here.”
His eyes moved to the ceiling. “I take it you’re a bedroom movie girl?”
“You make it sound tawdry.”
One eyebrow lifted. “If you watch porn, it might be.”
“I don’t.”
“You should.”
It took a lot of self-control not to squeeze my thighs together.
“Molly gave Dumb Ass the grand tour. They’re upstairs.”
“Oh no.”
I raced up the steps to confirm she hadn’t nudged her way into my closet again. The last thing I needed was DA getting introduced to the wondrous flavor of designer shoe leather.
Instead, they’d mussed my bed. Both dogs were sprawled out on it, tongues hanging, mouths hanging open in their equivalent of laughter.
Wombat slipped behind me. “This is your room?” His eyes took in the Persian rugs I’d laid down so Molly wouldn’t slip, the artful chaise lounge with matching chair that doubled as Molly’s perch. It angled just so in front of the windows to catch the light when I read for pleasure.
It sat in front of my wall of books and the antique dresser I’d picked up without thinking about how much labor it would be to move up all those damn stairs.
Then he turned to look at my new bed that replaced the sleigh bed Jim “donated” to me when we divvied up the furniture. That monstrosity was still in storage.
I’d learned my lesson with the dresser.
There was a ramp so Molly could join me. Obviously she’d showed DA how to navigate it.
Between the bed and the window there was another dog bed which Molly should be on.
Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged her to sleep with me? “I don’t know if we’re going to fit.”
It was fine with just Molly and me, but Wombat, DA, and Molly?
“We’ll fit. Dumb Ass. Park it.” He tapped the dog bed.
Nothing.
“Molly, go to your bed.” I pointed.
Nothing.
Obviously the two miscreants were testing us.
“Huh.”
Wombat shot me a side-eye that said a lot of the things I was thinking. He was trying not to laugh.
“Is this what teenagers are like?”
He nodded. “Lemon wasn’t too bad. But according to Dad, Hal, my youngest sister, is a downright terror.” He paused to shrug. “I don’t see it. She must be on her best behavior when I go visit.”
“How often do you see her?”
“I go once a year. Her birthday is in August, so I take off for Sturgis early and make a whole trip of it. It hits right between the end of the spring rescue season and the second round of squirrel litters.”
Out of all of that, I had to ask, “Squirrels have litters?”
“Twice a year—spring and fall, like fucking clockwork.”
Huh.
“So do cats.”
“I knew that.”
Was he laughing at me? “And dogs…”
“Stop.”
“…rabbits…”
“Wombat.”
He grinned. “Those, too.”
“Can we just—”
He cut me off with a kiss. This time, there was no reason to pull away.