Page 41 of About Time You Noticed

Chapter Twelve

TOMMY FLIPPED A PAGE over the clipboard, marking off names as the players boarded the bus. He’d rather be on Sarah’s doorstep than coach rowdy teenagers on a Saturday morning. The trip to Denver would consume most of the day and all his emotional energy. Sarah wouldn’t take his calls creating a void in his chest. He couldn’t lose her over this. Regret had etched her features when she’d pulled back from the kiss.

She’d sent him a text last night saying she needed space to think. How much space? What did a woman mean by that? A day, a week?

Tommy patted the back of the last player and followed him up the metal steps. He nodded to the driver. “We’re all set to go.”

The engine rumbled under his sneakers, and the gears ground before the bus jerked. Tommy remained standing and gripped a cold pole to steady himself as he supervised the group. “Jackson, move away from Andy. No prank wars. We’re not repeating last season.”

Andy nudged Jackson’s arm. “You heard him. Move. Stop being sus.”

Sus? Ha. No doubt Sarah was suspicious of his actions last night. He’d claimed her lips when he dang well knew she fancied Edward. Of course, she’d been there with him. Why had he assumed she’d randomly appeared at a staff party to which he hadn’t invited her? Duh. Clearly someone else’s date. He'd stolen the ball from another man's court.

He'd ruined her chances with Edward. Although he’d wanted that, angry didn’t begin to describe Sarah. She must've liked the guy—a lot.

Edward was a good guy. Sarah deserved someone like him. Smart. Logical. Had it all together.

Jackson dangled a water bottle upside-down, raining droplets onto Tyron in front of him. Tyron whipped around and smacked Jackson on the side of his head. “What’s your problem?”

“All right, knock it off, both of you!” Tommy stormed down the bus aisle, gripping the poles like a swinging ape. He had a long day ahead.

***

ON SUNDAY AT CHURCH, Sarah ducked around little old ladies like an undercover agent dodging bullets, determined to avoid Tommy. When he’d disappeared, she assumed he’d left early and wouldn’t join the potluck picnic. Little minions performed backflips in her belly at the sight of Tommy’s 4WD rolling into the parking lot. He jumped out with boxes of pizza balanced on a broad shoulder. The same shoulder she’d wrapped her arms around on Friday night. She touched her mouth, the tingling coming alive at the memory. How had she allowed that to happen? She'd kissed her best friend instead of her date—what a dork.

"Is everything okay?" Emily squeezed her arm.

"Yes." She dragged her gaze from Tommy and focused on Emily's glowing face. "Why do you ask?"

"Twice, I asked if you could pass the potato salad." Emily smirked and looked in Tommy's direction. "Still got it bad for Tommy boy."

"Shhh. Becca's nearby."

"I thought you were into Edward. How was your second date?"

"Don't ask." Sarah dipped her head, letting her loose hair hide her flaming cheeks.

Emily frowned. "That bad, huh?"

She peeked at her friend. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you. And I won’t. I'm trying to pretend the night didn't happen."

"Oh, sorry to hear it didn't work out."

Sarah sighed and handed the bowl to Emily. Ethan joined them, his mother’s potato bake overflowing his plate. Emily eyed the large portion, and Ethan grimaced. He gingerly scooped a spoonful of Emily's potato salad and added it to his flimsy plastic plate, which might crack any second. Emily leaned back, smiling. All this without any words. They seemed to have found their groove as newlyweds.

"Here’s my favorite people." Tommy’s voice boomed as he swirled pizza boxes in a flourish before resting them in the center of the table. "Dinner is served."

"Meat lovers?" Ethan's thick brows shot up. "You got my order, right?"

"Yep." He smiled down at Sarah. "And a thin and crispy vegetarian for you."

Her insides went to mush. Why couldn't she stay mad at Tom? He needed a scolding, but that wasn't her way. She didn't like confrontation or arguments. It took a lot for her to raise her voice at anyone. The last time she’d exploded, her cousin Trent had broken her favorite porcelain doll.

"What about the poor, pregnant lady?" Emily tapped her belly, which had yet to show a baby bump.

"Barbecue chicken should do the trick." He opened the top box, and delicious aromas of herbs, garlic, and barbecue sauce wafted about them.

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