Oh, thank God. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Definitely . . .”
“No sparks.”
“Exactly.”
“Shit,” she said. “They don’t make men like you anymore, Josh. It would’ve been wicked convenient if this worked out.”
“I thought you were rude to the waitress.”
“I thought your conversation was flat and boring.”
They looked at each other, then started laughing. “Failed experiment,” she said, and gave him a hug. “I wonder if Lauren is disappointed. I think she kind of hoped we’d connect.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know,” Sarah said. “I can’t say I’d want to be compared to her for the rest of my life, to be honest with you.”
“No, I understand.”
They sighed at the same time, then laughed.
“Sarah?” came a woman’s voice. Two women dressed in athletic gear had stopped.
“Hey, Helen!” she answered. “Hi, Kelly!”
“I haven’t seen you in ages,” the first one said. “We’re getting ice cream. You want to join us?”
“Um . . . this is my friend, Joshua Park. Josh, my coworkers, Helen and Kelly.” Josh nodded at them. “Helen had a baby a couple months ago and I haven’t seen her since. How is the little prince?”
“Really, really good,” Helen said. “Did you hear I had an emergency C-section?”
“No! Are you okay?”
“It was very dramatic! I was . . .” She glanced at Josh. “You know, it’ll keep. You’re with someone.”
Sarah glanced at Josh, and he got it. Their date was over, and he was fine with that. “If you want to hang out with them . . .” he suggested.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She smiled, her first real smile of the night, maybe. “Still friends?” she asked.
“Absolutely.” He hugged her, waved to the ladies, then turned and walked up the hill.
His wife had been wrong.
Interesting. A first. He hoped she was watching and got a kick out of that lackluster meat kiss.
Well, it was a beautiful night, and the city seemed happy. It didn’t seem right to go home just yet. He walked up Elizabeth, turned on North Main, and there was the restaurant he’d just left.
The chirpy server was sitting at the bar, blotting her eyes on her napkin.
He went back in and slid onto the stool next to her. She glanced at him and did a double take.
“I am so, so sorry, sir,” she said. “I ruined your date.”
“Your dog, huh?”
“I know. It was the stupidest thing to say, and there’s no comparison.”
“It’s okay,” Josh said. “I’d be wrecked without my dog.”
“Pebbles?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a really cute name.” She smiled at him and wiped her eyes again.
“Did you get fired?” he asked.
“No. They’re really nice here. Which is great, because I’ve been fired from three restaurants this year alone. They just took me off the floor for the rest of the night. Suggested I have a drink to buck up a little.” She toasted him with her glass. “It’s ginger ale with a teeny bit of rum, because I don’t really drink.” She looked around. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
“Oh, she’s not . . . that didn’t work. She’s a friend. My wife’s best friend from childhood. We were trying to click, and we just . . . didn’t.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s a relief, actually.”
“Again, I’m so sorry about your wife. I bet she was amazing.”
“She was,” he said. “She absolutely was.”
“Can I buy you a drink?” she asked. “I owe you.”
“No, I’m fine,” he said. “I don’t really drink, either.” He looked at her a minute, studying her profile. She had very long eyelashes, and they looked real. Her nose had an appealing bump at the bridge, and her skin seemed very clean. “Would you ever want to go out with me?” he asked.
The question came out of nowhere. He didn’t regret asking, though.
No. He didn’t regret it at all.
She turned, her eyes wide, and blinked a couple of times. “Sure. Yes. Absolutely.” Pink flushed to her cheeks. Pretty.
“You don’t have to say yes,” he added. “You know. Just because you ruined our dinner, or because I’m a tragic widower.” He was flirting. Wow. He was flirting.
“No, no! You’re wicked hot. Oh, God. I’m sorry. Should I have said that? Well, it’s out there, isn’t it? I mean, you have a mirror, you must know.” She was blushing furiously now. “Yes, I would go out with you. I thought you were nice the first time I met you at the vet’s.”
He smiled, then extended his hand. “Joshua Park.”
She took it, and he felt attraction flow up his arm like cool silk. “Rose Connelly,” she said.
He froze, still gripping her hand. “Rose?”
“Yes. My mom was a huge Titanic fan.” She pulled a face. “But I have to say, I love that movie, too.”
He let go of her hand. “Rose was my wife’s middle name.”
Her mouth parted a little. “Really.”
He nodded. They looked at each other a long minute. “Can I have your phone number?” he asked, and she patted her apron for a pen, found one and wrote it down on a napkin. Very old-fashioned of her.
“Okay, then,” she said. “It was . . . yeah. It was very nice to see you, Joshua.”
“It was very nice to see you, too, Rose.”
He should go now. Another minute, and he’d lose the cool factor. But somehow, he suspected Rose Connelly wouldn’t mind.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.
“I’ll be glad when you do,” she answered.
Get out before you ruin it, he told himself, so he left, feeling . . . well, feeling a little . . . elated. He forgot where he’d parked the car, and just walked for a while in the soft summer air, the sounds of music and people and sirens all blending together like a song.