Honey sighed when she walked into the deli. The line for lunch was too long. She would never get her order filled in time to eat and get back to work within the time allotted for her lunch break. She could just skip eating. One meal wouldn’t hurt her. One meal wouldn’t trigger an avalanche back into old eating habits.

One meal. “Just give me one meal,” her therapist used to say. “Eat one good meal for me today, and tomorrow we can start talking about eating two meals.” Recovery starts with one meal and so does a relapse. Honey sighed. No skipping lunch today. It wouldn’t be the healthiest option, but she could get pizza by the slice. She turned and began to push through the out-door when Morgan called her name.

“Honey, what do you want?” She turned and saw him already standing at the order counter waiting on a sandwich being made. He and the counter clerk were looking at her. She noticed how tall he really was. His head practically brushed the hanging salami display, and he looked to be twice as tall as the girl behind the counter.

“Uhm, I was going to get the Pesto Primavera.” Honey watched Morgan nod to the clerk before she moved off to scoop pasta salad into a clear to-go container.

“Grab me a bag of chips and an Orangina, and get yourself a drink. Meet me at the register,” Morgan directed.

Honey was aware that everyone in line watched her. She had walked in the door, and by sheer dumb luck, had been propelled to the head of the line. This Morgan guy wasn’t so bad after all. Now if he would just do something with his hair and stop it with those damn plaid shirts. She pulled a bottle of the orange soda he requested from the commercial glass-fronted cooler and a sparkling water for herself. Uncertain of Morgan’s chip preference, she selected three different bags. She would eat one with lunch and save the one he didn’t want for later.

She joined Morgan when he stepped forward in line.

“Hey, that was really nice. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No problem. You looked so despondent and about to leave.”

“I appreciate it, I really do, but let me pay you back.”

Morgan waved her suggestion aside. “No, I’ve got this. It’s just a pasta salad, no strings attached.”

“Are you sure?”

“Okay, how about one of your friendly smiles?”

“Really?” She crinkled her brow and stared at him in disbelief.

“Okay, how about a sarcastic retort?”

She couldn’t help it. She smiled.

“Totally worth it,” he crooned.

They headed out of the crowded deli and started walking back towards The Corner. Honey found a tall curb to sit on, and Morgan sat next to her.

“Orangina? You drink Orangina, but you wouldn’t eat Lana’s lemon bars?”

“No lemon, no chocolate. Lemon messes with my sense of taste and smell, and I’m allergic to chocolate. Oranges are fine. Besides, it’s Orangina, it’s not like drinking an orange soda at all. Makes your tongue feel like doing the Lambada.” He licked his lips, swiping his tongue across his upper lip, and then wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

Honey giggled nervously at his blatant flirting. He was even better looking than she had let herself think on Friday night. His tongue had licked lips she hadn’t realize she’d thought about licking herself.

“So, Morgan,” she asked between bites. “You’re just here for some job, right?” Honey was bound and determined to improve. She knew she had judgmental issues and that there were no grounds to make assumptions based on superficial reasons. So far he had proven to be a pretty nice guy. Lana would be proud of her progress.

“Yeah. I’m living out of an old Air Stream I’m renovating. It’s currently parked up in Moss Beach.”

Honey nodded not sure what to say next.

“I could ask you the same, but your job is a little less transient than mine,” Morgan observed.

“I moved down here from San Francisco a few years ago. A mutual friend introduced me to Lana. She had ideas for the café, and I was looking for something.” She slowly shook her head at her own situation. Her hand reflexively wrapped around the charm at her neck. She remembered strange details about that day. Particularly the fog. The way the weather and her mood lightened considerably as she traveled south and away, as if the fog was releasing her from it’s embrace.

“Did you find it?” Morgan’s voice pulled her out of the mist in her head.

“What?” Honey, temporarily lost in her thoughts about running away from San Francisco had lost track of the conversation.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I’m not even sure what I was looking for at the time. I’ve found something different than intended, and for now, that’s perfectly good. I feel safe here, and that’s what counts, right?”

Honey stood up. Morgan watched as she brushed dirt off her backside. “I have to get back to work. Thanks for lunch. Next time you come in, your coffee and snack are on me.” Honey stopped, realizing what she had just said. “Uhm, right,” she stammered as her mind pictured images of Morgan licking whipped cream from her belly.

“Bye.” Morgan laughed.

She wiggled her fingers in a nervous wave before spinning away from Morgan, hoping he didn’t see her blush.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “A construction worker who knows about the connection between Orangina and the Lambada.” One being an orange soda from Brazil, the other a sexy dance from the soda’s TV commercials. Getting into Morgan’s first chapter so far had been worth it.

Honey stopped in her tracks as a chill traveled down her spine. For a split second, she thought she recognized a slender, dark-haired man. She blinked, focusing on the figure. He turned. She saw an unfamiliar smiling face with dark eyes. Honey shook herself and breathed a sigh of release. She needed to be clearheaded in order to deal with the workday ahead of her. She didn’t need any man clouding her thoughts. Not Morgan and his lips and not that blue-eyed sadist who’d triggered a panic attack the last time she saw him.

* * *

The fog bank rolled in earlier than normal. By four o’clock, all the unprepared tourists were making a rush on the shops that sold sweatshirts. It was the kind of day on which cups of comforting hot chocolate sold better than coffee.

“Rachelle,” a familiar male voice mispronounced her middle name. Her head snapped up in recognition at the sound of rah-shell. Her nose twitched at the familiar smell of pungent aftershave. She felt the blood drain from her face. Her stomach lurched.

Crap, crap, crap, crap. “Why are you here?” Her tone held no friendly warmth of recognition.

“I came to buy a coffee. I was at a meeting with a client up the street, and they told me this was the best place to get a coffee. I had no idea you were here. Don’t I get a hello?”

Honey glanced around, swallowing down the bile that burned the back of her throat. Seth was nowhere to be seen, and Lana wasn’t due in for another hour. She was stuck having to deal with Bryce Maplecourt, her abusive ex-boyfriend, on her own, and she wasn’t ready for it.

Bryce was tall and thin, with fine sharp features, ice-cold blue eyes , and short black hair slicked expertly to the side. Honey knew under his cashmere overcoat he would be wearing a designer suit. Bryce had always known how to put himself together. He dressed with as much care as most of the male models she had dated. It was what had drawn her to him originally.

Slowly and deliberately, Honey turned back toward the counter, positioning herself at the register.

“Hello. What can I get for you?” Her voice sounded robotic to her ears.

“Rachelle,” Bryce’s voice drew out her name, but there was no emotion to it. “I really had no idea you would be here. I thought you were further south, like in Santa Barbara all this time.”

“My name is Honey, just like it always has been.”

“I never liked that name. What were your parents thinking? Honey Gould. It’s so, so trashy. At least they gave you a classic middle name.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think of my name. You don’t even pronounce it correctly. If you are going to talk to me, use the name Honey. It’s my name. I like it. Now, what can I get for you, Bryce?” She tried to look him directly in the eye but the piercing blueness of them held anger. She quickly averted her own.

“No catching up for old time’s sake? You look,” he paused eyeing her form, a sneer pulled at his upper lip, “settled. Older. You’ve put on some weight. You should ask about me now.”

Honey stared at him blankly, her expression belied her inner turmoil.

“I am doing exceptionally well, Rachelle. Do you want to know more?”

The door opened behind him. A gaggle of cold tourists entered.

Honey felt her tension slip just a notch. She immediately felt safer with others around but not safe enough. She would never feel safe in the same room with Bryce. “Yes. I would like to know what you want? As you can see, I have other customers waiting. It’s pretty straightforward here. Coffee, espresso, hot chocolate, tea, or something out of the cooler.” Her brain kept repeating the mantra just order and leave. Just order and leave.

“I’ll have a medium half-caf then.”

Honey rang up his total, without even asking if it was for here or to-go or if he cared for anything else. She fixed the drink, repeating just leave in her head. She handed Bryce the paper cup full of coffee. “You can leave now.” She kept her tone as unaffected as possible but she couldn’t help but notice her hands were shaking.

Bryce also noticed and took his coffee. “Not very stable these days, hmm?” he muttered.

She carefully tried to not pay attention to the snide remark. If she was unstable, he certainly had done his best to contribute to that state. Once he moved away from the counter, she attempted to put all of her focus on the group of women waiting after him. It didn’t work. She began to feel sick. Bryce took too long doctoring his drink. As much as Honey didn’t want to pay attention to him, she couldn’t help it. Every time she glanced in his direction, she caught him glaring at her through narrowed eyes.

The woman in front of her had to repeat her order. “I’m so sorry.” Honey apologized, yet her eyes followed Bryce’s back as he finally turned towards the door to leave.

It appeared as if he was about to turn and say something to her when Morgan walked in. With Morgan present, Honey felt herself relax. She instantly felt safer; she felt safe enough.

“I’m so sorry.” She apologized again with a strained giggle. “That man was making me nervous.”

She fixed four hot chocolates and plated two slices of cake, and delivered them to the women who surrounded the table furthest from the door.

“Honey,” This time the voice saying her name felt soothing, warm, and deep. “Did I overhear you say that Maplecourt was bothering you?”

Honey nodded. “He’s my ex-boyfriend. You know him?” Her breathing was shaky.

“He was at the site earlier. He’s the client’s accountant and a real asshole.”

Honey nodded biting her lip. “He’s an asshole all right. Remember when I told you I was looking for something when I moved down here?” Her eyes were wide, fear clearly lingering. “I was looking to get away from him.” She took a ragged breath. “He didn’t know exactly where I was until today.” She started shaking again.

Morgan’s body reacted to her instantly. Fear rolled off of Honey in waves. He longed to wrap her in his arms and protect her from Maplecourt and what he had exposed her to. Morgan reached behind the counter and eased her out, guiding her to a chair. He returned behind the counter and quickly poured her a cup of coffee. “Here.” He handed her the cup, pulled up a chair next to her, and began tenderly stroking her arms, resisting the urge to wrap her in his protective embrace.

Honey held the warm cup and inhaled as if the pungent aroma strengthened her flagging fortitude. Closing her eyes, she began to talk.

“He wasn’t just my boyfriend, he was my fiancé. I thought he loved me.” She spoke softly and slowly. The words spilling from her on their own. “So pretty. Good family. Knew the right people. He seemed very supportive at first. Really proud when I graduated with my degree in gallery management. Said he would use his connections to get me into one of the museums.” She took a sip of the coffee. She looked up at Morgan and snorted, more of a derisive sound than one of humor. “That never happened.”

The bells over the door jingled.

“Honey are you all right?” Lana asked, rushing to where Honey sat.

“She’s pretty shaken up,” Morgan explained.

“What happened? She looks pale, even for her.” Lana’s voice sounded filled with concern.

“Bryce came in.” Honey’s voice sounded detached.

“Well, shit.” Lana bit off the words. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to go in the back and hide for a bit I think. Maybe puke.” She slowly got up and, as if in a daze, walked behind the counter and into the back.

Morgan glanced at Lana questioningly.

“They were engaged. He messed with her head pretty bad. He was abusive,” Lana explained simply.

Morgan nodded in understanding.

“Look, I’m only telling you this ’cause I know you like her, and something tells me you wouldn’t hurt her. She’s had some serious issues in her past. She was working on herself, getting shit sorted out, and Bryce set her back. Messed with her head.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“He’s a bully, that’s bad enough. He’s a snake.” Lana clearly was self-editing, she seemed to want to use a stronger word, but held herself in check with customers in the café.

“Look, I have to go back to the job site, but—” Morgan rubbed his forehead, thinking, “—uhm, don’t let her walk to her car alone. Have her wait for me. If Maplecourt has decided to stick around for any reason, I’ll deal with him.”

“If you’re really going to be Honey’s friend, you have to know she comes with baggage.”

“Don’t we all?”

Morgan paused outside of the café to dial his phone.

“Dante, whatever you are doing, I’ve got something more important.” Morgan paused to listen to the man on the other end of the line. He harrumphed. “No, you don’t have to cause anyone to disappear under mysterious circumstances, at least not yet. Find anything and everything on an accountant for the Cyan Group, name of Bryce Maplecourt. Anything I can use as leverage.”

* * *

Honey sat huddled in the corner, her purse sitting on the table in front of her. Next to it, a cup of coffee grew cold. She stared blankly in front of her. Morgan saw her looking despondent when he came back into The Corner.

He slid into the chair next to her, “Hi, Honey. You waiting for me?”

She nodded.

“I’m glad you waited. I don’t want you walking to your car alone if Maplecourt is a threat to you.”

She nodded again.

“I’m going to check in with Lana, okay?”

Honey kept nodding, not focusing on anything.

Morgan balled his hands into fists before spreading his fingers wide to ease out the tension he felt building. He frequently used this technique to keep his claws in check. Honey was terrified and withdrawing into shock. What had that asshole done to her? Morgan wanted to rip out his throat next time he saw the man. He couldn’t, not while Maplecourt controlled the finances on the construction site. When this building was complete and the relationship with the client over and paid in full, Morgan thought about having a little chat with Maplecourt. Give him a demonstration on intimidation and abuse of power. Even if he never saw Honey again, Morgan would still pay Maplecourt a visit for scaring her like this. Morgan wondered if Maplecourt had set her on edge that first day he saw her. She had been terrified then too.

“How’s she doing? Is she okay?” Morgan asked as he approached Lana at the counter.

Lana looked over to where Honey sat. Concern creased her brow. “He hasn’t seen her for a few years. She thought she was done with him. I think it’s hitting her hard. Last time she saw him, he didn’t notice her, and she was still a mess. This time, she had to talk to him. She’s strong, but sometimes there is only so much you can take.” Lana looked over to where Honey sat. Concern creased her brow.

“I’ll give Maggie a call. Maybe Honey needs to go to my place tonight. Bryce doesn’t know where she lives. I seriously doubt he’s out there stalking her, but I don’t think she should be alone when she’s like this.”

“That’s not a bad idea, at all,” Morgan agreed.

Lana picked up her phone and held up a finger indicating that Morgan should wait for a minute. Her face softened into a broad smile, Maggie clearly picked up on the other end of the line. She nodded and made confirming noises. Morgan returned his focus to Honey, away from Lana’s conversation. He didn’t understand how anyone would want to hurt someone so frail and beautiful. Honey’s eyes held fear, and her chin quivered as she appeared to fight back tears. Morgan wanted to hold and protect her delicate beauty. He wanted to eviscerate Maplecourt.

“Maggie agrees. If you could follow her to make sure she gets to my place, that would be great.”

Morgan nodded in agreement.

“Hey, Honey,” Lana’s voice was soothing as she slid into a chair next to Honey. “Maggie wants you to stay with us tonight, okay? She said she would feel better knowing you were not alone. I’ll go feed Calliope tonight so you don’t have to worry about your cat.”

Honey seemed to refocus on the world around her. She turned to Lana. “Thanks, that’s a real nice idea.” She focused on Morgan, “I don’t really want to go home right now, not anyone’s. Would it be okay if we walked around for a while? I don’t want to feel closed in.”

A slow grin spread across Morgan’s lips. “Sure, Honey, whatever you want.”

“I’ll let Maggie know it could be a while. But you are staying with us tonight.” Lana’s tone was firm. She would take no excuses or arguments.

“Thanks, Lana. Yes, I’ll stay. I’m sorry I got a little weird there for a bit.”

“It’s okay Honey, it really is.”

Morgan followed Honey out of the café.

“Where to?” he asked. His deep voice calmed Honey’s nervous stomach.

“You mind just wandering up and down the tourist spots a bit? I want to distract my mind.”

“Sure.” Morgan placed his hand on the small of her back and led her past a group on the sidewalk.

The sidewalks were fairly empty, the fog having chased most people indoors.

“When I first moved here, it was always like this. Too quiet.” Honey began. “No night life. The fog always rolls in around four in the afternoon, just like today, and then the sidewalks roll up soon after. Too quiet for me. Especially after having lived in nothing but cities for years.”

They wandered past the aquarium. Normally crawling with tourists, after hours it was spookily quiet. They passed several shop fronts before Honey turned to Morgan, suggesting they enter one, a typical tourist shop for the region full of jewelry, tchotchkes made from shells, and T-shirts with sea otters and Monterey Cannery Row emblazoned across the front. The repeating themes of the shop were coastal and golf.

Honey led Morgan into another shop. Another repetition of similar touristy gift items. Morgan kept an eye on Honey, watching to see if any of these items sparked an interest in her. She seemed oddly detached as if she barely registered what her eyes were seeing. He realized that Maplecourt must have seriously hurt her, and not just physically.

Honey clearly processed information and feelings inside somewhere. That or she was shutting down. Morgan knew he could protect her from any physical harm, but from what Lana had said and based on Honey’s reactions, Maplecourt’s damage had been psychological. It sounded like he joyfully fed her demons and doubts. That was something Morgan could not confront and face down. There was nothing to take a bite out of to make everything better. He wasn’t sure how to protect her from that kind of past abuse. He could be here for her now, and that was the best he could do. As long as she allowed him to stay around, he would make sure those demons would never be fed again.

Morgan positioned himself close behind her. “Honey.” He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, breaking the silence of their wanderings.

She jumped at his touch. “Yeah?”

“You feel like talking about it? I’m a good listener.” Morgan wasn’t sure what to do, all he knew was that he wanted Honey to be happy, not sad and frightened.

She turned a wan smile towards him. “Not right now if that’s okay, Morgan. Right now I think I just want to feel safe.” She removed her hand from the charm at her neck to place her fingers on the back of his hand. “I feel safe with you.”

Morgan gave her a brief nod then folded his fingers around her slim hand, engulfing it. She was safe with him, safer than she realized.

They wandered in and out of several shops in silence holding hands.

“I want to go look at the water,” Honey announced. Quietly, they strolled back past all the shops and the aquarium and walked along the bike path until they were next to the water. The tide rolled out. No large waves crashed against the coastal rocks. The smooth lapping of water covered rocks then receded. California harbor seals perched on top of lonely rocks.

Honey continued walking, pulling Morgan with her as she headed further out on the rocks. She let go of his hand as she jumped from one rock to another and began climbing higher before sitting on a flat surface. Morgan followed her, sitting on the rock next to her.

“I forget sometimes that I can walk out the door of work and come sit here.” A car passed behind them on the road, the sound muffled and distant. “The fog makes it feel like we’re the only people for miles and miles. Isolated. Lonely.” She spoke softly, voicing the thoughts in her head. “It can be depressing. But not when I come to the water. It all goes away. It’s not desolate, it’s beautiful. It’s like the waves and air cleanse my spirit.” She huffed through her nose. “Saltwater therapy, sea air, and ocean waves. This is almost as good as a therapist. I mean, a good therapist makes you think about your issues so that you can solve them on your own. The ocean clears my head so I can think straight and figure out what my problems are.” She glanced at Morgan, seeing if he understood her meaning.

He nodded at her. She noticed a glint of amber light flickering in his dark eyes.

“You still want to listen? I can talk for a while.”

“I don’t have any plans, except to see you safely to Lana’s for the night.” Morgan grinned at her. “Until then, I’m all yours.”

“Okay.” Honey took a deep cleansing breath and stared out into the water. “I met Bryce my last year of school. I was interning at a gallery.” Her hand zipped the charm from side to side along the chain at her neck.

She could picture the first time she and Bryce met. It was a slow, dreary, drizzly winter afternoon, and she was minding the gallery on her own, first-time solo. She was nervous but glad it was the kind of afternoon people didn’t window shop. She had never really had to talk to anyone before, never had to try to sell anything. Her mentor said she would do fine and not to try to sell a piece. Instead, she should approach a prospective client like trying to set up friends on a date. Her job was matchmaker for art, not painting seller.

Bryce acted as if he had been lured into the gallery by a particular painting. He was the prettiest man outside of modeling she had ever seen. Fine features, almost delicate bone structure, sharp blue eyes, a dazzling smile, black-black hair and pale-pale skin, tailored designer suit. Honey had tried to set him up with every painting in the gallery that afternoon. In the end, he insisted she go out to dinner with him. And for some reason, she did not refuse. Now she realized he had been playing head games with her from the very beginning.

“It started off with small things. Like my name. He always used my middle name, Rachael, but he pronounced it rah-shell instead of ray-chel. At the time I loved it, it sounded soft, elegant, sexy. He was the only person who called me Rachelle; everyone else called me Honey. It felt special. It took me a while to realize what he was doing. He started to point out how low-class he thought the name Honey really was. Classic abuse. Undermined me, cut me off from my friends, convinced me I didn’t need therapy anymore. he was messing with me, making me think I was crazy.”

It had been over food. The fights hadn’t always been about food, but so many of the bad ones had been. Bryce would get angry with her for not eating then get angry with her for eating and ruining her figure. She couldn’t win.

“He slapped me.” She shook her head, trying to arrange her thoughts. “Bryce cried after he hit me and promised it would never happen again. That I had made him so angry. That it was my fault he hit me. I needed to trust him.” She breathed deeply, turning her gaze to Morgan, “The sad part is I believed him. I let him convince me it had been my fault. He would blame me for his actions. At first, I believed him, then something clicked and I realized it wasn’t me.”

“How was it my fault he hit me?” Her gaze shifted back to the water. “He told me to trust him. How could I trust him when I didn’t feel safe around him? I called my old therapist in a panic. She got me into her office the next day, on a Sunday. I talked for hours. She helped me to see that he was displaying abusive patterns, and now that the hitting had begun, it would not stop. It would only get worse. She helped me make an escape plan.”

Honey sat quietly for a few minutes. She poked at the rock beneath her before she began talking again.

“I never made it to the escape plan. A few days later, Bryce pushed me then hit me. Hard. More than once. I saw stars, and my nose started bleeding. I thought he had broken it. He did that apologizing thing while still blaming me the entire time he cleaned me up. I let him put me to bed, and he even called in sick to work for me. Said I had nothing to worry about, I just needed to rest while he went to work. I waited to make sure he wasn’t coming back. I packed up everything I could carry and I left.” She looked down at her hand. “I found this in the car that afternoon. He had ripped it off me at some point. I thought it was lost.”

She looked at Morgan again. His features tightened, and his face held a fury he kept in check. His eyes glowed and his lips were pursed as he glared at the horizon.

“You okay with this?” she asked.

Morgan kept his tone even and controlled, but his voice was rough with anger. “I should be the one asking if you’re okay. I am angry for you.”

Honey patted him on the knee. “That’s sweet, but it’s in the past.”

“It still hurts you to think about it, and he scared you today just by showing up.”

“He scared me today because I wasn’t expecting to see him. But I know I am stronger than this.” Honey said with all of her conviction. “I am a survivor, and Bryce Maplecourt cannot hurt me anymore. He has no leverage for threats, and if he tries to touch me, I’ll have his ass arrested for assault.”

Morgan gave Honey a small smile, his anger lifting. “Clearly, you have thought this through.”

“Lana is helping me a lot. Actually, I came here to hide out with a friend for a few days. I needed to think. Needed to figure out what next. I met Finney my first night down here. He introduced me to Lana. Lana offered me a job immediately. Said she needed me, so I stayed.”

Honey stood up abruptly. She spread her arms wide as if embracing the world in front of her. She breathed deeply. “God that felt good,” she sighed. “Thank you. I needed to air that out. Thank you for listening and not trying to fix this for me.”

“You don’t sound like you need help fixing anything. You sound like you’ve got this.” Morgan said as he stood. He stepped close to Honey.

“I’m working on it, definitely working on it.” Honey stepped toward Morgan. Her pulse began racing again, this time it didn’t feel like fear. “I’m trying to be my own hero, but that doesn’t always work.” She lifted slightly up onto her toes and placed her lips against Morgan’s.

She lowered back onto her heels. Morgan hadn’t kissed her back. I shouldn’t have done that. “Thank you for listening.”

Honey headed back towards the bike trail. “I think Lana knew I needed her. She’s really seen me through these past few years. She’s been my unofficial life coach since I started working for her. I don’t need a knight in shining armor to save me. I can save myself. I don’t need to be afraid of Bryce. Just need to stay away from him. I don’t need a partner to complete myself, but it’s nice to have the companionship. That one gave me a whole new perspective on dating. I am a worthy complete person all by myself. Me and my fat ass can do anything I set my mind to.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes at her and then shrugged. “Good philosophy, I like that. Be your own hero.”

They walked in silence back to Honey’s car. Inside Honey’s head was anything but quiet. Why did I kiss him? She decided if he was going to ignore it, she would too.

“I promised Lana I would follow you to her house. That I would see you safely home. Get in. Lock the doors. I need to get my bike. I’ll be right back.”

Honey followed Morgan’s advice and locked her doors. She blared the CD she had in the player. Queen. Freddy Mercury crooned, and everything felt better, even though Morgan hadn’t kissed her back. Soon the loud, low rumble of a motorcycle caught her attention as Morgan pulled up next to her.

Honey lowered her car window. “Follow me.”

Morgan gave her a thumbs up as she pulled out of her parking space. Morgan followed closely but not too closely as Honey navigated her way uphill into the residential area of New Monterey.

She parked her car and got out in front of a small house. “This is it,” she announced. Honey waved as she walked into the house.

Big Dog greeted her with drool and a happy wagging tail. She dug her hand deep into the scruff of fur at his neck, and knew she would be alright.