Page 19 of Animal Instincts
Oliver gritted his teeth. His muscles tightened as the urge to tug Joss back by the collar of his shirt gripped hard. In his arms, Bingo wriggled and a low whine forced Oliver to relax his hold on the dog.
“Ryan, if you find us a table, I can promise you, hand on heart, I will find a way to stopmygran from coming anywhere nearyournan with a box of fuchsia dreams hair dye ever again. Come on, that’s got to be worth a table and a couple of your fine hostelry’s famous pies?”
As though on cue, a tiny woman appeared through a door at the back of the bar. Oliver blinked, and blinked again. But it wasn’t because she was half the size of the barman, but just as wide.
That’s got to be a wig…
An explosion of patchy pink-mauve frothy bouffant, like the sticks of candy floss sold at fairs, wobbled on top of the woman’s head. Somewhere along the line, fuchsia dreams had become fuchsia nightmares.
“Hello Joss, my lovely.” The old lady welcomed Joss with a warm smile. “Not seen you for pie night in a while. A table for two? Or should I say three?” She shifted her gaze to Oliver and Bingo, her friendly smile deepening.
“Yes please, Eva. But Ry said—”
“I can always find a table for you, although it’ll have to be a little one in the corner. And for our very own vet. Bringing your work with you, Dr.?” She laughed as she nodded at Bingo, snuggled in Oliver’s arms. “Young Katie was telling me how good you’ve been with Sammy.” She nodded, her face growing solemn for a moment.
Sammy…?Of course, the woman and child from earlier, and the cat…
“The couple in the corner by the window are finishing up. That’ll be your table, my loves.”
“But Nan, we’ve got booked customers and a queue waiting—”
“Make sure the table’s made ready for Joss and Dr. Strachan, Ryan.” Eva’s words were smooth, but the set of her jaw defied argument. “I need to check on the kitchen, but Joss, you tell your gran I’ll be getting in touch over the next few days for my next rinse.”
Ryan made a strangled noise, his mouth dragged down in horror, as Eva disappeared back through the door. Oliver couldn’t blame him.
“Talk to your gran, Joss. Please.” Ryan hissed as he moved off to serve a waiting customer.
A few minutes later, and with drinks in hand, they were seated at the table, Bingo tucked in the corner at their feet. Oliver fiddled with his pint of local IPA, tongue tied as he and Joss sat crushed up together by the wall.
“Here’s the menu. Not that there’s anything other than pie. Because, well, pie night.” Joss laughed as he handed over the A5 sized laminated menu.
Their fingers touched. Light and so brief it was barely there, but it was enough for a burning bolt of electricity to tumble the length of Oliver’s spine. A mild panic seized him.
He had no idea what to say. Thank god Joss didn’t seem to expect any chat as he bent his head over the short menu.
Oliver’s heart raced. Joss bringing Bingo in for him to take a look at after hours was one thing, but this… The two of them, in the local pub, sharing a meal…
If it looked like a date, and sounded like a date… It was exactly the kind of thing James would say, and Oliver could almost hear his friend laughing at him.
Oliver picked up his glass, his hand not quite as steady as he’d have liked, and took a gulp of beer. No, this was not a date. This was expediency, just two people saving each other from a dull evening. Although how somebody as cute and attractive as Joss could ever have a dull evening, he had no idea.
Oliver’s grip tightened on his pint… Ryan smiling as Joss leaned into him… The guy’s tongue had almost been hanging out… Oliver’s fingers cramped as he clutched the glass tighter, as his narrowed-eyed gaze shot back to the bar where the young barman was busy pouring pints.
“Ready?”
“Sorry? What?” Oliver swung his head around so hard, something cricked in his neck and he winced. “Oh, yes. I’ll have the chicken pie.” He’d barely looked at the menu.
“Then I’ll go and order.” Joss jumped up. “And this is on me.”
“No—” But Joss was already gone, the decision made. Oliver followed him with his eyes as best he could, but the heaving crowd at the bar swallowed him up.
Oliver settled back into his seat, which gave a good view out over the low-ceilinged pub. The last of the setting sun streamed through the windows, but the wall lamps had been lit to cast the pub in a soft and buttery glow. It was a large place, but the nooks and crannies, the huge inglenook fireplace unlit and filled instead with a large dried flower display, gave it an air of cosiness.
Oliver’s gaze drifted over the other customers. He recognised many, as the residents of Love’s Harbour were keen pet owners, which was good for business. They kept him busy, sometimes too busy, not giving him time to deal with the paperwork… His shoulders slumped. Joss had been a huge help, but it was a one time thing. The beer soured in his stomach at the thought of finding someone to keep him out of the mess he’d soon slide back into.
“You’re looking very serious for somebody who’s got chicken pie coming.” Joss laughed as he sat down on the other side of the small table.
“Just thinking about the need to get some admin help. Maybe help with the animals, too. A couple of days a week should do it. If I don’t, I’ll be getting in a mess again.”
