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“No. You need to give me another song.”
She exhaled through her nose like a dragon. ““Physical”.”
David looked like he was going to argue with that, making her sputter, “Don’t even think about not counting that.”
“The video was good,” he argued, straight-faced. In truth, he could’ve easily let her have it because the song did suck, but it was fun making her work for it. This entire musical throw-down was a lot of fun, actually.
“Wrong. The video sucked,” Paige argued back. “But even if it was good, we’re not judging videos, we’re judging songs. And the song is beyond terrible, so it counts.”
Reluctantly, as if it went against everything he believed in, David relented. “All right. It counts. That makes nine.”
“Nine and a half,” she corrected him, not even sure why she did, since she’d still have to come up with another whole song to win this stupid challenge.
“My bad. That makes nine and a half.”
She smiled, then fired her kill shot. ““MMMBop”.”
When he shook his head, hers almost exploded.
“It was a catchy song,” he told her. “And Hanson wrote all their music and lyrics and played their own instruments, unlike your favorite boy band, N’Sync. I mean, for Christ’s sake, the drummer was only like ten years old or something, so they get a pass.”
Paige glared at him, but he didn’t back down. “You need one more,” he pointed out unnecessarily. “Well, a half of one more.”
It was time she put this challenge in the books. ““Kokomo”, “Safety Dance”, “Don’t Worry Be Happy”, “Red Red Wine”, “She Blinded Me With Science”, “Ebony And Ivory”, “All She Wants To Do Is Dance”, “I Wanna Be A Cowboy”, “The Final Countdown”, and anything off the Seven and the Ragged Tiger album—”
David laughed out loud, knowing there was no way he could argue anymore, especially with any seriousness, so he graciously conceded. “All right, that’s enough. You win.”
Leaning forward and unknowingly giving him a hell of a view down her shirt, she asked, “So, what’s my something ‘good’ going to be? And it better be really good, because I’ve more than earned it. I gave you at least twenty songs.”
“As soon as I figure it out, I’ll let you know,” he replied, unrepentant, just as the waitress arrived with their food. After setting their plates down (a New York strip for David and chicken Marsala for Paige) and then leaving, David ceremoniously picked up his half-empty glass of beer and toasted, “Here’s to … getting something ‘good’.”
Chapter 4
“Dolly’s probably still at bingo,” Paige told David as they walked down the hallway to her apartment. They were holding hands and as they approached Mrs. Harte’s door, his hand tightened, almost reflexively.
“‘Probably’ means there’s a chance that she’s not.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s still at bingo. Is that better?”
“Better would be if you were really sure.”
She stopped and gave him an eye roll. “Fine. I’m really sure she’s still at bingo.”
He took her arm and quickly pulled her away from Mrs. Harte’s door. “What are you doing? She could look out her peephole and see me standing here—”
“Not if she’s still at bingo. Which I’m really sure she is.” Paige stopped again, grabbing his left wrist and twisting it so she could read the time on the Tag Heuer watch she’d given him on their honeymoon. “They usually play until 10 p.m., and it’s only 9:30 p.m.,” she said. “So, you’re safe for at least a half hour.”
They resumed the short walk to Paige’s door, where she dug her keys out of her purse. “Would you like to come in for a few minutes?”
“Maybe for more than a few minutes,” he countered suggestively. “So I can give you your something ‘good’.”
“Ooh, I can’t wait.”
With a slightly exaggerated expression of glee, Paige turned and put her key in the lock. As she did, his hands settled on her shoulders, gently squeezing, and he crowded her a little from behind. For an awful second her body remembered her Uncle Carter’s unwelcome touch, which had often come from behind when she wasn’t expecting it, and she flinched, then froze.
David felt her response and it gave him pause. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, forcing herself to get centered in the moment, where David’s hands were on her, not Carter’s.
