When Pigs and Parrots Fly (9 page)

Squeezing together
.

With her reawakened feelings for Josh so raw and pressed to the front of her mind, the thought nearly terrified her.

She cleared her throat, hoping he couldn't hear her heart pounding. “I guess so,” she squeaked out, wanting to kick herself for not being able to keep her voice in control like a reasonable and allegedly mature adult.

But then her life around Josh had never been reasonable. Years ago, the pending possibilities of sitting too close to Josh would have inspired him making a number of bad jokes or sarcastic comments.

She gritted her teeth, waiting for the onslaught.

He walked toward the staff room door. “Let's eat before my stomach does something embarrassing.”

Not that having a noisy stomach in front of her had ever bothered him before. However, if her stomach grumbled in front of him now, suddenly she felt like she might just die of embarrassment.

She led him into the small room, which wasn't much bigger than her walk-in closet at home. Actually, between the one-person sized card table and small bar-sized sink in the corner, and what her staff called the world's smallest loveseat, everything so squished together made her closet seem like a mansion. When Scruffy followed them in, there was less room than ever.

“I've never been back here before. It's cozy.”

“If that's a polite way of saying cramped, then you're right.” Because of the size of the room, if anyone needed the table to eat, she'd purchased a folding chair. It wouldn't work for them, however. Not with two adults and two dogs.

Without waiting for her direction, Josh plunked himself down on the loveseat and patted the space next to him.

Sarah remained standing. When she'd decided that it was time to see if having an adult relationship with Josh was a possibility, she hadn't projected squishing up beside him.

Her heart raced, and her knees felt wobbly. She probably needed some time to calm her nerves, and she definitely needed more space.

Sara looked past the door through the window to the parking lot. “I think we'd have more room if we sat in my car with the dogs in the back seat. Or maybe we should take a short drive and go sit in the park.”

“No way. These sandwiches are going to get cold. Besides, I already told you, I don't have that kind of time today.”

Sarah stiffened her back, sucked in a deep breath, and squeezed down into the small seat beside him, pressing against him from hip to knees. She didn't like it. Her feelings were still too raw to deal with this.

She cleared her throat. “This is embarrassingly close. I don't know how any manufacturer can ever claim this comfortably seats two people.”

Instead of squishing himself against the arm of the cramped loveseat, he raised one arm and rested it on the back of the seat, behind her. “I don't know. I guess that's why they call it a loveseat. It implies that two people would want to sit close.”

She couldn't help her awareness of Josh's arm behind her, sitting in a way guys typically sat, completely unaware of the awkwardness that hung in the air, and also unaware of her sitting close enough that she felt the heat from his leg pressed against hers. Part of her wanted to lean against him just to see if that arm came down around her shoulders, and part of her wanted to run away screaming.

Before she could think of something to say that he wouldn't take wrong, he reached into the bag with one hand, and pulled out a wrapped sandwich. “As I was standing in line, I started thinking, who exactly is Bert? This is advertised as Bert's secret recipe, but has anyone ever met this infamous Bert? Does he really exist?”

“No one I know has ever met him, but they, whoever ‘
they
' are, say it's his secret recipe, and the restaurant is named after him.”

When she accepted the sandwich from him, he reached into the bag and pulled out the other one for himself.

As Sarah opened one end of the wrapper for her own sandwich, it occurred to her that Josh couldn't do the same with one hand resting on the couch behind her.

“Excuse me,” he muttered in a low, gravelly tone. His arm draped around her back, he reached around her, pulling her close as he unwrapped his sandwich.

It was almost like a sneaky move from a teenage boy at a movie theater. Except this was Josh, and he was well over a decade past pulling a move like that. Especially with her.

Even though this was exactly the position she wanted to be in with Josh, pulled so close against him that she could feel his breath on her cheek, he simply unwrapped his sandwich and leaned back.

He turned toward her. “Wanna say grace?”

Sarah pressed her eyes shut to say a short and simple prayer for the food, working very hard to silence a thank-you to God for opening her eyes concerning Josh, and working even harder to resist praying for direction in seeing if it was meant to happen or not. Those prayers would be said when Josh wasn't beside her, and when she had more time.

After his amen, Josh took a big bite of the sloppy sandwich, closed his eyes, and groaned. “This is the best sandwich I've ever had in my life.”

“You say that every time we eat Bert's sandwiches.”

“And I mean it, every time.” He raised his arm as if to wipe a dribble of Bert's famous sauce from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then stopped.

She watched the mental gears whirring in his head as Josh realized he had more than just a small drop of sauce on his face, and that he risked getting it on his clothing. He couldn't seem to figure out how to recover the napkin from his lap and hold the sandwich with one hand without dripping the rest of the sauce onto his pants.

Sarah sighed. “Let me.”

She leaned forward and gently, like wiping the corner of a baby's mouth, took her own unused napkin and gently dabbed at the corner of his mouth.

His entire body stiffened, and his eyes widened at the intimate contact.

Sarah felt her heart pounding like a bass drum, and she hoped that he couldn't feel it through her fingertips. Pressed up so close beside him, if their relationship was the way she wanted it to be, she could have leaned forward just a little more and kissed him.

And she did want to kiss him.

Instead, she straightened, putting a little distance between them. “There,” she whispered, hoping her voice didn't sound as croaky as it felt. “All better.”

In a flash, his arm rose from around the back of the couch. Without touching her, he straightened and planted both arms at his side. With lightning speed, he rammed his sandwich back into the bag without rewrapping it and stood.

“You know, I really don't have time to stop for lunch today. I shouldn't have left Amanda at the store all by herself. I'd better go.”

Before Sarah could open her mouth to protest, Josh left the room. Rufus gave one short whine and ran after his master.

The door between her clinic and the reception area closed with a snick. From the other side of the closed door, her receptionist called out a quick good-bye to Josh just as the bell on the main door jingled.

Sarah didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The Roadrunner couldn't have made a hastier retreat.

Defeat sank like a battleship in her chest. This wasn't the way she'd thought it would go, but obviously Josh wasn't as interested in her as she was in him.

But . . . at least she knew.

It wasn't what she wanted, but she had her answer, and life would go on.

“Sorry I took so
long,” Josh muttered to Amanda as he dashed through the store and into his private office, closing the door behind him.

He dropped the partially eaten sandwich on the desk, picked up the phone, and started dialing.

Tucker answered in four rings.

“Hey, buddy,” Josh drawled, trying to sound carefree. “What's up?” He heard the shuffle of clothing over the phone line, telling him that Tucker was checking his watch.

“Not much. What's up with you? Why are you calling me from work? Is the game cancelled?”

Josh gulped. “No, everything's right on schedule. I just wanted to let you know that I'm meeting up with Rob and Cassie on Friday night.”

A pause hung over the line. “And?” Tucker asked.

Josh gulped again. “And I'm taking Sarah with me. As my date.” He squeezed his eyes shut as he realized he'd just emphasized the word
date
. Like he'd just thrown down the gauntlet.

Another silence hung. “This is my sister we're talking about, right?”

“Uh . . . yeah.”

“My little sister.”

A slow-motion replay ran through Josh's head of Tucker that day in church when he'd mentioned taking Sarah away from the crowd for some one-on-one time. That image had played through his head more times than he could count, none of them fondly. Josh tried to push the picture out of his head and forced a smile, hoping it came out in his voice, even though he doubted it would.

“You only have one sister. And she's not that little.” As the words left his mouth, he gave himself a mental slap. Tucker didn't need the reminder that not only was Sarah not just his younger sister, she was his only sister.

As the silence continued, knowing Tucker as he did, Josh knew that pictures of a less mature version of Sarah were rushing through his friend's head—images of a young and innocent Sarah, madly in love with him, doing a number of harebrained stunts to get his attention. Between the two guys, they'd laughed as immature adolescents did, not taking her feelings seriously. Back then, he'd said a lot of things that weren't necessarily complimentary about her puppy-love crush. Little could he have guessed how his insensitive words would come back to haunt him.

“It doesn't matter how big Sarah is, she'll always be my little sister.” Tucker's voice lowered slightly in pitch. “Do you understand what I'm saying?”

Unfortunately, Josh did. He cleared his throat, and his grip on the phone tightened. “She's not so little. She's a big girl now, Tucker. And I'm a big boy. Just like you're not the same twerp you were back then, neither am I.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Josh knew he hadn't worded that as gently as he could have.

He'd just called the best cop in the town of Bloomfield, his best friend, a twerp.

Over his little sister.

Josh cleared his throat. “What I'm trying to say is that I'm not the same guy I was back when she followed us around. You know me. I'm a nice guy. At least, most women think so.” Josh stopped and squeezed his eyes shut. “Not that I go out with a lot of women.” He wondered if he could stick his foot any deeper into his mouth.

Tucker had never made him nervous before. Josh didn't understand why it was happening now. He probably should have asked if Tucker trusted him, but now Josh wasn't so sure of the answer.

“What I'm trying to say is that I'd like to see what happens.”

Tucker's voice dropped even lower. With the drop, Josh pictured his friend's nostrils flaring like an angry bull. “And what I'm saying is that she's my little sister. And I remember every word you've ever said about her.”

A chill ran up Josh's spine, and he forced himself not to shiver. Right now, if Tucker could read Josh's thoughts about his little sister, it would be much worse than the thoughts he'd had about her as a little kid, chasing them around town.

He cleared his throat. “I've been seeing . . .” His voice caught before he said, “your little sister.” The way the conversation was going, he didn't want more big brother/little sister reminders. “. . . Sarah, weekly, for a long time.”

He didn't think it was a good idea to tell Tucker they'd already gone out on a couple of double dates, even though they hadn't gone out with each other, at least not technically. Yet, every time Hayden had tried to start a private conversation with Sarah, he'd butted in and tried to monopolize her attention, so she might as well have been his date. Both times, at the end of the evening, he'd also accompanied Hayden to Sarah's door, just to be sure that Hayden didn't kiss her goodnight.

Josh squeezed his eyes shut. Visions of nearly kissing Sarah in the kitchen, and then again in the staff room at her clinic, roared through his brain. He squeezed his eyes shut and told himself to breathe. Yes, he'd nearly thrown a sandwich that dreams were made of to the dog and wrapped himself around Sarah with the burning need to kiss her only minutes ago.

Josh forced the image out of his head, cleared his throat, and brought his brain back to the current conversation with Sarah's very big brother—complete with his uniform, and a very big gun. “We do our orders for the wholesaler together every Tuesday. My store is next door to her clinic. Remember?”

“Yeah. I remember a lot. Am I being clear?”

His friend's meaning couldn't have been more clear if it had been written in his own blood. Which it might just as well have been.