Page 69 of The Sweetest Thing
“Okay,” she mumbled, heading back the way they’d come.
Five minutes ago, his heart was Tansy’s. Now he was feeling too bruised and vulnerable to know what to do. Where did this leave them?
The house came into view and they slowed. She stole a glance his way but didn’t say anything. Dane was no better. After he collapsed the wagon and slid it into the back of the van, he turned toward her. The streetlamp she’d parked by cast just enough light to make out the features of her face.Dammit. Her lower lip wobbled and she wiped at her cheek. She was crying and, dammit all, he couldn’t bear it. “Hey. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Tansy stared up at him, she swiped at another tear. “It’s horrible. All this time—” She broke off. “I’m sorry.” She gripped his forearm.
“Me, too.” His hand covered hers.
“No, I mean it.” Tansy closed the gap between them and slid her arms around his waist. “You’re a condescending know-it-all who gets far too much enjoyment getting under my skin but you’re not evil.”
“Thank you?” He pulled her closer against him.
Her laugh was muffled against his chest. “You were trying to do something wonderful.”
“Yeah, I was.” He was content to stand there holding her. “What happens now?”
She stared up at him. “I don’t know.”
“That makes two of us.” He smoothed the hair from her forehead.
“But I’m willing to find out.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “I mean, if you—”
He tipped her chin up and brushed his lips across hers.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she murmured against his mouth.
He pressed a kiss at the corner of her mouth, along the swell of her lower lip, and then the other corner. “Yes.”
She mumbled something as she twined her fingers in his hair and tugged his face down to her. Dane was all too happy to comply. He met her, kiss for kiss, his hands sliding down her sides then up her back to hold her close. The way she wriggled and sighed against him had him leaning against the van to keep them upright.
There was a deep bark. Then another one.
“Shh, Oatmeal,” Tansy said between kisses. “Go to the house, Pudding.”
Another bark, high-pitched and squeaky.
“Butters...” Tansy sighed and let him go. “What on earth are you doing out here? Auntie Mags will be missing you.”
Dane assessed the motley crew of dogs. One massive Saint Bernard, two patchy red-and-white terriers, a scruffy-haired one-eyed Chihuahua and some midsize canine with thick brown fur and cockeyed ears. “Are all your animals named after food?”
Tansy shook her head, then stopped. “Actually, yes. Except for Beeswax the cat and Lord Byron.”
“That parrot’s still alive?” Dane hooked his thumbs into her belt loops. “He never liked me. Took a snap at my earlobe once. Left a scar, too.” He let go of one belt loop and touched the scar.
“Really?” Tansy reached up, too, rubbing his earlobe. “He did that? Ouch.” She cocked her head to one side. “Was this when your dad was dating Aunt Camellia?”
He nodded. “The good old days.”
“Interesting.” Her smile was all sass. And he loved it. “Animals are supposed to be a great judge of character.”
“Dogs. The saying is about dogs.” He could get used to her smiling at him that way. “I’m not sure that applies to mean old parrots.”
“Maybe... You’d better cover your ears, then. Lord Byron is alive and well and will probably stay that way for years—as long as he steers clear of Aunt Mags. They have a love-hate relationship. Meaning they both love hating one another.” She took his hand. “Want some lemonade or something?”
“In there?” He nodded at the house.
She made a production of patting her jeans pockets. “I don’t have any on me so, yes, in the house.”
