Page 94 of Love Unforgettable
“Can’t say that I’ve seen it.”
“Oh, it’s so good. We’ll have to watch it. It’s best with popcorn and Red Vines and wine.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Because that combination sounds downright disgusting. If movie popcorn is to be paired with anything, it’s Milk Duds and a Coke.
“Yay! You’ll love it.” She claps her hands to enunciate her point. “Hey, are you a big reader?”
“You mean of books?”
“What else would I mean?” she smiles.
“Newspapers, magazines, comic books.”
“Okay, yes, books.”
“I like a good political thriller, Tom Clancy, Lee Child, Robert Ludlum, and those sorts. I also read the newspaper every day with my coffee. You?”
“I go back and forth between romance novels and true crime. There’s an author named Ann Rule who writes about true crime. She was even friends with Ted Bundy without really realizing who he was. Then she wrote about him. I find it all so fascinating. Especially how serial killers are able to manipulate people over and over again. Even though we all know there are certain things we shouldn’t do. Like the movieSilence of the Lambs, oh man, that was so good. And that guy, so creepy.”
“And you wonder why I think you should look before you buzz people in,” I say dryly.
“Because a serial killer is going to come ring at my gate to be let in?” She laughs.
“Stranger things have happened.”
She looks at me, amusement and disbelief dancing in her eyes.
“Okay,” she says. “What’s your favorite time of day?”
“This is getting’ to know each other or just twenty questions?”
“Getting to know each other.”
“So, I get to ask questions too?”
“Sure. When I’m done. Now answer my question.”
“Okay. Morning. Early morning. When the sun’s just starting to rise, and it’s nothing but me and the birds.”
“Me too. There’s almost always a light mist in the air, residual marine layer, it’s so peaceful. What side of the bed do you sleep on? Or are you a middle person?”
“The side closest to the door,” I say.
“Why?” she asks, her face curious.
“Because that way if anyone or anything threatening ever comes in the room, they’ve got to get through me first before reaching you.”
Her face softens as she looks at me. I’ll be damned if I don’t see her eyes well up just a bit. God, this girl kills me. It’s like she’s never been treated with basic kindness and reverence.
She clears her throat. “So, tell me about two-stepping?”
“Well, like a lot of dancin’, it can be intimate and romantic, or detached and technical. Just depends on you and your partner. The man leads the dance—”
“I feel like I should tell you now, I’m not a good dancer.”
“Maybe you just haven’t had a good partner,” I say.
“No, even by myself I’m no good. I love singing, I love music, I’m a terrible dancer. I have no rhythm and I don’t think I can follow.”
“Definitely not the right partner,” I say. “You ready to learn to follow?”
“Let’s do it,” she says.
