Runaway Bridesmaid by Karen Templeton

it?”
    â€œUh, no,” he admitted, scraping the side of the bowl with the spoon. “We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months.”
    Sarah let out a guffaw as she waved her spoon for emphasis. “Have you told her yet that your idea of a good time is spending an afternoon in a stinky barn dodging kicks from crazed equines? How on earth did you even meet her?”
    â€œShe’s been into the clinic a couple of times.” At Sarah’s raised brows, he explained. “Becca also has six cats and two dogs. Marrying a vet would be extremely cost-effective for her.”
    â€œMarrying?”
    â€œI know. I didn’t believe it, either.”
    Sarah shook her head in amazement, then drew her brows together. “So how come you didn’t bring her today?”
    â€œShe’s in Atlanta. Won’t get back until about eight.” He paused. “She’s, um, preparing her parents.”
    â€œOh, brother.” Sarah scanned the Ichabod Crane double leaning against the counter next to her, all bones and furry skin and spongy hair, attired in a pair of faded cutoffs that were more fringe than fabric and a woebegone Yankees T-shirt her mother wouldn’t even have used as a rag. “And what, exactly, is she preparing them for?”
    â€œHey, I clean up good.”
    â€œI sure hope so, for your sake. As well as hers.” Then she held out her arms. “I’m real happy for you, you big doofus. Congratulations.” She put her hands on his shoulders andpulled him into a hug, breaking into giggles at the instant hush that fell over the room.
    â€œWhere do you want the paper plates?”
    She broke the hug at the sound of Katey’s voice, looking down into the little girl’s face. “Hey, baby—when did you get here? Did Jennifer bring you?”
    â€œNo,” rumbled a deep voice. “I did.”
    Glittering green eyes collided with hers, just as two disparate thoughts collided in her brain. The first was that the nettled expression on Dean’s face was more than worth whatever other indignities the week might bring. The other was that she suddenly remembered how much she and Dean used to joke and tease and banter, just like she was doing with Ed. And how, more than anything else, she missed their friendship.
    Blinking back the sting of unexpected tears, she smiled at Katey and pointed to the backyard. “Put the plates out there with the cups and stuff. You’ll see which table.”
    â€œOkay,” the little girl replied, taking Dean’s hand. “Dean’s my date, ” she announced, looking up at Sarah from underneath silky eyelashes.
    â€œOh, I see,” Sarah replied, trying to sound pleased, not daring to look at Dean. “Well, just make sure he gets you home by midnight.”
    With a fluttering giggle, Katey pulled Dean through the back door and out into the shady backyard. Sarah watched them through the screen door, her arms folded across her middle, praying for something she had no right to pray for.
    â€œCare to tell me what that was all about?”
    She’d forgotten Ed was there. “Hmm?”
    Ed finally relinquished the frosting bowl, shoving it to the back of the counter, then slid one arm around her shoulder. “Come on—let’s go find someplace where no one’ll bother us, and you can tell Father Confessorstein all about it.”
    But not all confessions are created equal, she mused, allowing a half smile. “Give ’em more food for thought, huh?”
    He gave her shoulder a nice, brotherly squeeze. “It’s what I live for, sweetheart.”

Chapter 5
    S o that was Ed, Dean mused as, through the screen door, he watched them leave the kitchen.
    He suspected Katey was right about the relationship. No chemistry, he was sure. Sarah’s hugging him didn’t mean anything, either, he told himself; she’d always been demonstrative.
    He sucked in a