Honey Pie (Cupcake Club)

chapter 14


“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.”

“Well, I understand more now why Dylan is protective of you. He might want you to own your special skills, but after being up close and personal with what happens when you have them, it’s natural he wants to make sure you’re protected while you do. And the more we get to know you, the more we’ll be able to take care of you, too, if it happens when he’s not around.” Kit lifted a hand when Honey started to respond. “I know you don’t want us to take care of you, but—”

“No, I wasn’t going to say that. I mean, I don’t want you to have to do anything. But . . . I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little freaked out wondering what will happen when I have one in public. It’s just a matter of time. I do pretty well at maintaining my personal space and it’s been truly wonderful that you all have respected that. But stuff happens, visions happen. I’ve had three since I’ve been here, and he’s been there for all of them. So—”

“So, he wants to take care of you.” Kit smiled. “I say, let him. Men like to feel like they’re taking care of their own, you know? And we want to take care of them right back. Nothing wrong with that.”

“You know, you make a lot of sense.”

Kit’s smile grew wider. “I’m scary like that.”

Honey laughed. “It is a little scary, to be honest. I’m looking at things from such wildly new perspectives. Bea tried to tell me, I guess, but with my limited experiences, I couldn’t begin to dream of how things could be. I have a good imagination when it comes to creating fanciful creatures, but not so good when it comes to imagining an equally fantastical world where people might actually accept me, weird crap and all.”

“Well, if you’ve been made to feel like an outsider your whole life, it’s kind of understandable that you wouldn’t be wildly enthusiastic about reaching out to anyone else. I think it’s amazing you even tried. You just have to tell us what we can do to make it easier, and we will. Not that we won’t screw up.” Kit leaned in closer. “And not that there won’t be a few who totally won’t get it. But they’ll be easier to deal with when you have a posse of folks who do.”

“My own posse, huh?” Honey grinned. “I kind of like the sound of that.”

“I do apologize for grilling you,” Kit said. “When I first got here and started seeing Morgan—who was like the black sheep of the island because of his family—I got subjected to the same thing. I hadn’t dated in like, forever, and he was part of the family who’d ruined my business, so . . . I had questions, too. It was complicated.”

Honey’s eyes widened. “Wow. I didn’t know that part.”

“Well, he wasn’t personally part of it, but it took some sorting out. Have you met Lilly yet?”

“That’s his little niece, right? So sad about his brother and Lilly’s mom, but really amazing and wonderful that he’s taken on raising her.”

“She’s resilient and wonderful, and well—you’ll love her, everyone does. Not that I’m biased or anything.” Kit’s smile was bright.

Honey thought Lilly was a very fortunate little girl indeed, because she clearly had two people who loved her very much.

“I can’t wait for her to see your work, by the way. Alva said something about how you may be teaching classes? If you’re thinking of having any clay building type things for children, or maybe children-adult combo classes, sign the two of us up right now.”

Honey blinked. “I can see why Lani hired you to launch Babycakes. I’ll keep that in mind, about the adult-child classes.”

“Perfect! Well, anyway, I’m just trying to warn you. Sugarberry and the people on it . . . we’re like the Borg. We’ll assimilate you. Lani says it’s like living inside the best group hug ever, and I haven’t heard it described better than that. And, well . . . who doesn’t need that kind of support, right?”

“Right,” Honey said, slightly dazed and more than a little dazzled at the same time.

“Great! So, tomorrow night. Cupcake Club. Be there.” Kit pointed at Honey. “And you’re baking this time.”

“I almost burned down the bookstore today just making breakfast. I really don’t think you want me to—”

“Yes. We do.” Kit started to reach out, take Honey by the hands, then remembered and smiled as she lifted her hands, palms out. “We want you to, okay? Any of it, all of it.” She leaned in and lowered her voice slightly, even though they were the only two people in the shop. “And if you don’t feel like talking about Dylan, that’s fine. For now.” Her blue eyes sparkled. “Instead, you can just tell us all about how this vision thing works.”

“Oh, you really don’t want to—”

“Yes, we do. Really.”

Kit had cut her off again, and Honey began to see how she’d run an entire family empire single-handedly.

“Like it or not, Honey, you’re one of us now.” Kit grinned. “Be afraid. Be very afraid.”

Honey was still smiling as she left the shop and headed back across the alley to the bookstore. She should probably stop thinking about it as the bookstore, she realized, and that had her shaking her head.

“What’s so funny, sugar?”

She looked up to find Dylan leaning against his pickup truck. She was surprised she didn’t trip over her own feet . . . or drool all over them.

Wearing black jeans and a blue polo shirt, he was freshly shaven. His hair, still a little damp, curled over his ears and against his neck. His lips quirked in that way they did, right before that sexy-as-sin grin slid across his handsome face.

Even though she’d anticipated it, it still gave her knees a bit of a wobble, and made her heart skip a beat.

“I was just realizing that I should probably stop thinking about the bookstore as the bookstore, and that led me to thinking about Sugarberry and books. I can’t decide if I’m Alice, and have fallen down the rabbit hole, or heading to Oz on the yellow brick road.”

“I’m afraid to ask what that would make me, in either scenario.”

She stopped walking just in front of him and let her satchel slide down her arm so she could set it by her feet. “You’re the Tin Man.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You think I’m heartless?”

She smiled up at him. “No, silly. I think you’re the one who thought he didn’t have a heart, when it was right there, bigger than life, inside you all along.”

He did that thing where his gaze went from casual and flirty to intense and probing. Or maybe it was always probing, but the flirty part distracted her. She felt heat climb in her cheeks, thinking perhaps she’d said too much or hit a sore spot. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I don’t even know—”

“You know me, Honey.” He said it quietly, watching her from those steady gray eyes of his. “Better than you realize.”

She smiled briefly. “Yeah? Well . . . ditto.”

“You ready for dinner, Dorothy?”

“Oh, I’m not Dorothy.” Her smile came back stronger. “I’m the Cowardly Lion, wishing for courage.”

“Then we’re more alike than we realized.” He uncrossed his ankles and pushed away from the truck, so he stood right in her personal space. “Because I think you’re one of the most courageous people I know.”

Her heart beat an unsteady tattoo inside her chest and butterflies danced in her stomach. Unsettling feelings . . . and rather thrilling at the same time . . . because no one had ever looked at her the way this man did. “Fool’s courage, maybe. You’re talking to someone who essentially hid in a barn for the past eight years.”

“You’re not hiding now.”

“Only because my poor, deceased seventy-two year old aunt made it her dying request. A woman who had more courage in her pinky finger than I have in my whole body.”

“Whatever gets us taking that first step isn’t the point. Taking the step is.”

“Was that how you felt when you took over the family business? Or did you always know that was your path?”

“I didn’t know much of anything when I was younger, except not to count on anything. Or anyone. I knew I was really good at fixing things. And so was my grandfather, so there was comfort in knowing I’d inherited that trait, but with it came the fear of what else I might have inherited.”

Her heart clutched a little. “Dylan—”

“At first, the business was more refuge than path. Maybe something like your carving and sculpting. Your barn was my family repair shop. And, later, my sailboat.” He kept his gaze straight on hers.

“You don’t have to tell me—”

“Yeah, sugar. I do. You need to know who it is you’re involved with.”

Her heart pounded a vibrating thrum. “Are we? Getting involved?”

She thought he’d tease her with that sexy grin, but he remained more serious, more straightforward. “I think we already are.”

“Dylan—”

“If I’m wrong about that, sugar, now’s the time to tell me. And don’t make it about the bookstore, or your car, or—”

It was her turn to get serious. “We may be involved, but we’re still getting to know each other, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insinuate that I’d ever get involved with you—or anyone—as payment for services rendered.”

“No, that wasn’t—” He broke off, swore under his breath. “I’m no good at this, Honey.”

“At what?”

“I’m good at fixing things, but figuring out relationships . . . they don’t come with a user’s manual.”

“No, they don’t. And I’m hardly an expert, given my history.” She paused, let them both gather their thoughts for a moment, then said, “Maybe we can just figure one of them out. This one. Together.”

She thought she saw a little tension ease out of his stance, and only then did she realize . . . he was nervous! He was worried . . . about her? That she’d what? Turn him down? Say no thank-you to him?

She grinned, which made him scowl, which made her grin wider. “I think we understand each other maybe too well. But, like you said, we just have to make sure we don’t get in our own way.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re cave dwellers, you and me. You by nature and me more from necessity, but still, we don’t generally stick our heads out much. And here we are, sticking out a whole lot more than that. So, I think, if we want to be . . . involved, as you say . . . then maybe when we want to pull our heads in and hide we should realize that’s when we’re supposed to do the exact opposite. At least with each other. Talk through it, stumble through it, whatever. Just, make sure we say something, and say what we know is true, and not just what would make it easier.”

“Great advice, but I’m not sure I follow.”

“When you started to falter just now, you wanted to make sure I didn’t say I was interested in you because you’ve all but given me an entire building on loan or because you’re holding my only means of transportation hostage as a way of getting us to spend time together. If I go with what I know about you, I know you just wanted to give me room to feel I could be honest about what I wanted to happen with us. You didn’t want me to worry about any of that if my answer wasn’t the one you wanted to hear.”

“That’s exactly what I meant.”

“But it was easier for me to take offense and assume you were questioning my moral character, because that helps me keep my guard up. I’ve had a lot of practice keeping that guard up, so I’m more comfortable there. So, when I feel like tucking in and taking the worst possible slant on something . . . that’s when I need to take two seconds and remember who it is I’m talking to and who is talking to me. And remember that I can always talk to you. You’re the first person, really, I’ve felt comfortable enough to say anything to.”

For the first time, his lips twitched. “A point you’ve made abundantly clear.”

“Okay, maybe I have given you a hard time,” she said dryly, “but I can also talk to you about stuff that I’d only ever felt comfortable talking to Bea about, and that was because she understood. She was family. You . . . I just met you.”

“You can trust me, Honey.”

“I know.” She smiled. “I mean, I really do know that. Do you know that? That you can trust me, too?”

“I wanted to talk to you about my past, my family . . . maybe some part of it was like you said, shoving it out there as a way to gauge things, make you duck and run if that’s what you’re going to do, but sooner rather than later. I don’t generally need to tell anyone about that time. The past is just that, for me. It’s no longer relevant—which is why I know we’re involved. It might be relevant to you, so it matters to me that you know about it.”

“If you think I should know, then tell me. I do want to know you, Dylan, but not so I can cut and run. I want to know you because you matter. And your past is part of you.”

He smiled then, but it didn’t quite reach his beautifully wise eyes. “At least you’ll know who—what—you’re dealing with. If it changes things, then it changes things.”

She understood how hard it was for him to lower those walls. He wanted to, and that was big for her, but he was still hedging his bets. “The first time I had a vision here, it was a whopper. If anything was going to put you off, that would have done it. Instead, you shocked me by asking about it, talking about it almost casually. You were more worried if I was okay, than whether or not my head was going to keep spinning around. No one ever did that. Ever. No one looked past the spinning head to the person who was being spun. Until you.

“And then, this last time, when I spontaneously jumped into your arms that first day in the bookstore—my store,” she corrected, smiling briefly. “And it triggered another episode, your first instinct was to hold on tight, to be there, to encourage me, calm me. You didn’t let go. You knew what to do, or you followed your instincts, and that ended up being the same thing, because your instinct was to worry about me first, and what was happening to me second. That helped me. You have no idea how much.”

She closed the space between them, until their bodies brushed against each other. “That I can do this, walk right up to you like this, and feel pretty much fearless, knowing that even if it triggers a vision, I can trust that you won’t cut and run. That’s the man you are. To me. I want to know the rest of you, Dylan. Any of it, all of it, whatever you want to share with me.”

She reached up, brushed her fingertips across his cheek, watched his gaze darken, and felt her body respond to him as if he’d put out a siren call with nothing more than a look. “Because you’re right. I’m already involved.”