Page 29 of The Pocket Pair

Too bad I’m the one holding her in my arms, pal.

Val tilts her face to look up at me, and I think all my body’s systems shut down at the look in her eyes, which is something like pure adoration. But when she presses a kiss to the edge of my jaw, everything starts back up again in full force.

Pretend! It’s just pretend! I try to reason with my poor, overworked heart, ramming against my ribs like some caged animal. Not helping.

Val turns back to Jaxon. “I’ve known Chevy my whole life. We’ve always been friends but …” Once again, she tilts her face to look at me, meeting my gaze head on as she says, “But I’ve secretly been in love with him for years.”

Is that true? It can’t be true. Back in the day, I knew she had a crush. But the three-year age difference seemed like a bottomless canyon between us. And then later, she was always in a relationship with some loser like this one.

Val winks, and something in me tumbles and falls down hard.

Because, I realize, no matter how much I keep trying to shove Val back in the friend and best friend of my little sister box, she no longer fits. In fact, I think the box just crumbled to dust.

But this isn’t real. So don’t get your hopes up, I tell myself.

Unfortunately, I think it’s too late. My brain may get it, but my body missed the memo.

“But I brought you something,” Jaxon says.

“If it’s the flowers, don’t touch them,” I murmur to Val. “Some of that’s poison ivy.”

But Mullet didn’t mean the sad excuse for flowers. At that moment, two guys enter the bar, struggling to contain some kind of cage under a beach towel. Whatever’s inside it sounds like it’s struggling just as hard to escape.

“I know how much you like those magic movies,” Mullet says, waving the guys over. They’re making slow progress as whatever living thing they’ve got under there struggles.

“Lord of the Rings?” Val asks, just as Mullet says, “Harry Potter.”

With a sinking feeling, I think I know where this is headed. And I’m just about to shout not to take the towel off the cage when the two guys do exactly that.

They pull off the towel, revealing a massive owl, beating itself against a thin wire cage.

Val gasps. Mullet grins as though he’s just accomplished some great feat. And the cage door springs open, freeing the owl.

It seems to be a rule of nature that when a bird of any kind gets inside a building, it will fly anywhere except toward an open door or window. This proves to be true right now.

The owl flies in a frenzy through the bar, completely avoiding the open door. People scream and duck, diving to the floor. I pull Val behind me, and she presses herself against my back, her hands fisted in my shirt.

I feel bad for the owl, who has obviously been through it tonight. Mullet and his two friends—both of whom ran right out the door, leaving the cage, towel, and avenging bird behind—obviously aren’t well versed in avian care. Where did they even get an owl? I’m pretty sure they’re not legal to own in the state of Texas.

Mullet, obviously not a bird lover, starts swinging his sad bunch of foliage, which only draws the owl’s attention. The bird snatches the whole sad bouquet from Mullet’s hands, only to drop them right back on his face.

Good. I hope the man gets poison ivy on his eyeballs.

A sudden, sharp whistle pierces the air, but it’s not the owl. Nope. It’s Wolf Waters, still standing behind the bar but with one of those big black gloves I’ve seen used in nature shows by people handling birds.

The owl makes one more slow circle through the room, knocking over a few more beer bottles as it goes, then lands right on Wolf’s arm like the most perfectly trained creature.

The whole room goes silent. Wolf murmurs softly to the bird, who fluffs out its feathers and settles in. Turning so the bird is facing the wall and not the room full of panicked people, Wolf speaks in a slow, careful voice. “Bar’s closed, y’all. In an orderly and quiet fashion, please exit the building. I’ll trust you’ll settle up your tabs tomorrow.”

I expect pandemonium. But surprisingly, people rise slowly and make their way out the door in near silence. Grant takes Mullet by the elbow and gives me a nod to let me know he’s got this. Val and I are the only ones left when Wolf turns back around with the owl.

He smiles, and the massive bird blinks its wise eyes at us. Val peeks around me, then slowly moves to my side. As though it’s an involuntary movement, my arm slides around her waist, holding her to me.

“Wolf, you just happen to have one of those bird gloves behind the bar?” I ask, keeping my voice low and steady.

Smiling, he strokes a hand down the owl’s back. “I like to be prepared. Back in the day, I used to work with a rescue. My specialty was birds of prey. Haven’t gotten to handle one of these in forever.” His voice shifts into baby-talk. “But you’re a real beauty, aren’t you? Did those big meanies scare you? You don’t belong in a cage, do you?”

The moment you think you know your town and its people is the moment someone shocks the heck out of you by being a bird handler and owl whisperer.

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