The bell rang, and both men hit each other’s gloves and exited the ring. Levi wrapped his squealy wife in his arms and kissed her, and then Tom leaned in and kissed Honor, as one would expect a young(ish) couple to do.

It was a quick kiss, but it took Honor by surprise, anyway, sending an electric pulse through her so hard and fast that she swore the lights flickered. That mouth of his, so...excellent, and the masculine smell of sweat and soap. His hair was spiked from his exertion, and his abs were sinfully magnificent, and a bead of sweat sliced down toward his—

“Hallo, darling. Here to cheer me on as I beat up your relatives?” He seemed completely unaffected, and Honor tried to snap out of it, dragging her eyes off his torso to his face.

“Well, technically, Levi’s not related to me, but, uh, what was the question?”

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

“I’m meeting Faith. Um, you looked good, uh, Pooky.”

“Oh, man. That’s not really what you call him, is it?”

Honor turned as her niece appeared at her side, Helena Meering, her best friend, in tow. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said.

“Hi, Auntie,” Abby said, then turned to Levi, her hands on her hips. “Are you already done? I thought you were supposed to teach us to protect ourselves, Levi. That’s why we’re here.”

Right. Prudence had mentioned that she wanted Abby to know a little self-defense before entering the world of dating.

“You’re an hour late,” Levi said, cocking an eyebrow. “I told you four o’clock. It’s now 5:07.”

“You look incredibly hot, Chief Cooper,” Helena said.

“Inappropriate, young lady.”

“And so do you, mister,” the girl added, ogling Tom, who was taking off his boxing gloves. With his teeth. She had a point.

“That’s Dr. Barlow to you,” Levi said. He paused. “Hey, Tom, I don’t suppose you’d be interested in doing a self-defense class with me, would you?”

“OMG, do it,” Helena said. “There’d be, like, a hundred girls signed up in minutes.”

From several yards away, Charlie sat up straighter and took out one earbud.

Tom glanced at Honor. She gave a little nod in Charlie’s direction, and Tom looked over. A hint of a smile flashed in his eyes, and that tingle of electricity sliced through Honor again. “Sure, I’ll help out,” he said. “I’d love to.”

“You’re British?” Helena squealed. “Hi. I’m Helena. I’ll be eighteen in seven more months.”

“He’s taken, okay?” Abby said. “Remember? He’s gonna be my uncle. He and Honor are engaged.”

Helena turned to Honor, her mouth hanging open most unattractively. “You? Seriously?”

Irritating. “Yes, Helena. We...we’re getting married.” Man. Hard to say that out loud, especially with an officer of the law watching. Her legs felt sweaty. From the corner of her eye, she saw Charlie approach.

“Tom Barlow. A pleasure,” Tom said. “And this is my unofficial stepson, Charlie Kellogg,” Tom said. “He’s a bit of a boxer, as well.”

“Cool,” Helena said.

“Hey, Charlie,” Abby said.

“Hey, Abby,” he returned. A flush crept up his still-boyish cheeks.

“All right, we’re off,” Faith said, kissing Levi once more. “I plan on getting all the juicy details on you, Tom, so consider yourself forewarned.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” he said. He put a heavy arm around Honor. “Don’t tell her all my secrets, darling.”

Heat flared in Honor’s face, making her blotchy, no doubt. Tom was much better at this...this faking than she was. “Right,” she said, her voice too loud. “Okay. Off we go.”

And for the next few hours, she lied. To her younger sister.

Well, not lied, not exactly. She just didn’t tell her the full truth. Yes, it had been fast. Yes, his accent was adorable. Yes, he was quite attractive, wasn’t he? Yes, yes, yes.

The secret wriggled around inside her. But while she and Faith had been getting closer since the youngest Holland had come back home, Honor couldn’t ask her sister to keep something from her police chief husband. She couldn’t tell Pru, either, as Pru tended to blurt out information like a bleating goat. Jack, forget about it. She might’ve considered Jessica Dunn, but Honor was Jess’s boss, and it didn’t seem fair to put her in a position where she’d have to conceal fraud.

Not so long ago, she would’ve told Dana. It was an odd thought.

* * *

ON WEDNESDAY EVENING, Blue Heron hosted Kites and Flights, one of the off-season events designed to keep people coming to the vineyard all year-round. It was a singles event; a couple of weeks ago, Honor had seen some people flying kites and came up with the idea—kite flying, then a flight of wine in the cask room afterward.

As she finalized some tasting notes, she remembered what Tom had said—what if she met someone while she was with him? Someone single and age-appropriate and straight, someone employed. This imaginary man would be good-looking, but not too pretty, and he’d be smart and well read and...and...he’d talk to her, as Tom did precious little of that. No. Only when they were in public did he turn on the charm.

Her imagination (and eggs) had told her that she and Tom would move in together and start growing closer immediately. They’d laugh and have a good time. The chemistry would be undeniable. Before long, it’d be the real thing.

Yeah. Not yet. Not even close.

Spike licked her thumb, and Honor stroked her head with one finger. The dog had come a long way from when Honor had first met her. “Look at you,” she said. “Love has changed you, am I right? It’s time to go herd the singletons. Are you ready?”

If there was a more perfect afternoon for kite-flying, Honor couldn’t imagine it. The early April sky was achingly, perfectly blue, the sun was warm—it was fifty-two degrees, in fact, though she knew quite well it would snow again before spring decided to stay. A brisk breeze gusted from the west, and the sweet smell of the vineyard permeated the air as she walked up to Rose Ridge, where the single kite flyers milled around.

It was a pretty sight, the bright kites and clothes. At least six heads of gray hair and three baldies caught the light.... Why did singles events always attract the elderly? Hey. Glass houses, okay? the eggs said. Oh, gosh, Pops was here, too...hopefully not flirting too much, or Goggy might beat him with a stick later on. But there were a few younger people, too. Lorelei from the bakery, Julie from the library. The perfect man she’d just been imagining was missing. He always was.

There was one couple already hitting it off, their backs to her. Then the guy turned, and Honor froze midstep.

It was Brogan. And Dana.

Pregnant Dana.

She remembered to keep walking. Told her face to smile.

“Hey, Honor!” Brogan said, taking a few steps toward her. “How are you? Great idea, this! I was home, I said, ‘Dane, we should go!’ And, of course, that way we could see you.”

He was trying. A little too hard, but he was trying to keep their friendship, and Honor’s heart gave an unwilling tug.

“It’s good to see you guys,” she lied. “I just didn’t expect you.”

“How could we resist? Superfun,” Dana chirped, smiling so brightly her nose crinkled. “How are you, pal? Long time no see.”

“Yeah. Um, congratulations again, by the way!” She’d sent an email, of course. “It’s really big news.”

“Thanks. We’re so happy.” Dana’s hand went to her stomach—a little high, Honor thought, as if she had heartburn. She hoped Dana had heartburn. Really bad heartburn. And the pukes. Now, now, said the eggs. Don’t be catty. After all, it could be your turn soon! Because we know we’re ready!

She gave herself a mental shake. “I didn’t expect you two because it’s a singles’ event.”

“It is?” Dana said. “That’s not what the newspaper said.”

At that instant, Jessica came running over, her face set in a frown. “Honor, I’m so sorry. The newspaper cut the line about this being for singles only, and half the people here are—oh. Hi, you guys.”

“Hey, Jess, how’s it going?” Brogan said. God, he was so nice to everyone. Then he reached for Dana’s hand, the gesture so familiar and lovely, such a statement. He’d never held her hand. Never.

Aren’t we over him yet? the eggs asked.

“It’s fine,” she told Jessica. “They always get something wrong. We’ll clarify for next week, but for today, everyone can just have fun and drink wine.” She paused. “Except you, of course,” she added for Dana’s benefit.

“Why me?” Dana asked. “Oh, right! I keep forgetting. Wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt our little bambino,” she said, leaning back against Brogan.

On second thought, we’re with you on the heartburn, the eggs said.

“Honor!” called Carol Robinson, one of the married people. “When do we get to the eating part? I’m starving.”

“Easy, girl. First we’re going to do a little meet-and-greet,” Honor said. “Folks, unfortunately, there was a line missing in the newspaper write-up. This is actually a singles’ event, but don’t worry. We’re very glad you’re here today. Next month, though, will just be for singles, okay?”

“Isn’t that discrimination?” Brogan murmured, surprisingly close to her ear. Honor jumped. He was smiling, that killer grin.

“Shush, you,” she said, feeling a traitorous tingle. “Okay, so if you are single, please group over to the left with Jessica, and you can start getting to know one another. And if you’re not, let’s get those kites in the air, all right?” She held one up—special ordered, dark blue with the gold heron logo emblazoned on it. “It’s a beautiful day here at Blue Heron, and Carol’s right. After this, we get to eat some lovely food and drink some incredible wines.”

It was the PR side of her. Always smiling, always focused on presenting the best possible front of the family business, always looking for ways to bring people in and remind them of the family mantra: life was too short to drink bad wine.

The kites went up, Pops getting his line tangled with Carol Robinson’s (probably on purpose; Carol was adorable). Lorelei from the bakery, who was always so cheerful, listened intently as Elvis Byrd, a pale, scrawny computer programmer a few years younger than Honor, explained why fracking would cause massive earthquakes, ending life as they knew it. Suzette Minor was flirting with Ned (Honor would have to put the smackdown on that, because Suzette was far too old and trashy for Ned, though Ned would disagree). Jessica snapped photos, and the kites soared and ducked against the pale blue sky.

And Dana and Brogan were certainly having a good time. They made a very attractive couple, she’d give them that. Very Hallmark card-ish, Dana standing in front of him, giggling like a fifth grader, Brogan tall and manly behind her, making the kite swoop and circle.

Dana glanced over, and Honor quickly averted her eyes. Went over to her grandfather and kissed his grizzled cheek. “Hey, Pops. How are you?”

“I’m good, sweetheart. See any ladies for me? I’m thinking of divorcing your grandmother.”

“You couldn’t find the front door without my grandmother,” she said.

“So? The front door’s nailed shut,” he said. “But you’re probably right,” he admitted. “And I suppose one person is as good as another.”

“Such a romantic,” she said, adjusting his collar.

“You’ll see,” he said, cuffing her fondly.

When the sun began to set in shades of peach and lavender, the group adjourned to the cask room, where cheese and hors d’oeuvres had been set up. Honor went through her paces, talking about wine pairings and flavors, the bouquet of each wine, the body, the texture and finish. Spike stared adoringly at Lorelei, who gave out doggy treats at the bakery, and Pops and Carol flirted.

Dana and Brogan always seemed to be touching.

In all the years she’d known Brogan, she never remembered him being in love. He certainly seemed to be now.

By the time Jessica had herded the participants upstairs to the shop, where they would hopefully buy vast quantities of the wines they’d just tasted, it was almost eight and nearly dark. Honor picked up Spike and snuggled the dog under her chin, then stood on tiptoe to peek out of the narrow windows that ran along the top of the stone wall.

The cobalt sky still held streaks of red and purple at the horizon. Lights were on in both the Old and New Houses, and a wave of homesickness washed over Honor. She missed home, the big, comfortable living room and aging kitchen, her gorgeous bedroom with its pale blue walls and soft white rug. Her sitting room, where she had spent so many happy hours watching Bizarre Tales from the E.R. and Diagnose This! with Jack or Mrs. Johnson.

Maybe she and Tom would move into the New House someday if they decided to get married (and stay married). But not yet. She couldn’t see living there under false pretenses. Home was too precious to sully with a fake relationship.

A real relationship—with Tom, anyway—seemed a bit impossible. In ten days of living together, she had yet to see him smile. And you know...it was his smile that had done her in. A smile like that hinted at all sorts of wonderful things. Where was that smile now? Because his somber face wasn’t nearly as appealing as his goofy, sweet, smiling face. In fact, Tom sometimes looked a little intimidating.