Then There Was You Read online

  “Two-fifty!” That was from a table on the other side of the room, a redhead who looked all of twenty.

  “Three hundred.” The first woman stood, waving her paddle with gusto.

  Josh’s face had the wild-eyed look of impending road kill.

  “Three-fifty.” A new woman in a dress with a neckline that almost plunged to her navel entered the bidding.

  Even Greg’s usually serene face was beginning to wear concern.

  Paige leaned into Sarah. “Has he never been in a charity auction before?”

  Sarah shook her head, dangly earrings bouncing. “Not in years. He got roped into a few ages ago but then refused to do any more. They were always won by women who were quite forward, if you know what I mean.”

  Oh. Wow. “So why would your mum sign him up for this one?”

  Sarah grimaced. “She doesn’t know how bad they were. Josh forbid Amanda or I from saying anything. After the whole thing with N—” Sarah cut herself off, eyes wide. As if she’d said something she shouldn’t.

  “Four hundred.” Redhead was back.

  Josh’s expression was set like concrete.

  Without thinking, Paige grabbed her paddle from the middle of the table and waved. “Four-ten.”

  The auctioneer peered down at her from his wooden podium. “Welcome to our new entrant at four-ten.”

  “Four-twenty.”

  “Four-fifty.”

  The young one had dropped out. It was between sparkles and cleavage.

  “Four-sixty.” Paige was on her feet. What was she doing? She didn’t have four hundred and sixty dollars.

  The two bid up to five hundred.

  She looked at Josh and shook her head as she sat down. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t afford it. His eyes pleaded.

  “Bidding is at five hundred dollars.”

  He scrawled something on a napkin and held it up. I’ll pay you back.

  “Going once at five hundred.”

  She locked eyes with him. He crossed his heart.

  Well, in that case, it was to fight against human trafficking. She smiled at him and gave him a wink.

  His face sagged with relief and gratitude.

  “Going twice at five hundred.”

  She teetered back up and raised her paddle in the air. “A thousand dollars.”

  The room collectively sucked in its breath.

  “Sorry, miss. Did I hear you right? Was that a thousand dollars?”

  “That’s right. One thousand.”

  Beside her Sarah was practically under the table in spasms of laughter. Josh’s face still sagged, but now more with disbelief than gratitude.

  “Going once at one thousand.”

  The room was silent.

  “Twice at one thousand.” He looked from cleavage to sparkles. “Ladies.” They both shook their heads.

  “Sold. A date with Josh Tyler, to the young lady in the green dress for a thousand dollars.”

  Josh honestly wasn’t sure whether he wanted to kiss Paige or shake her. A thousand dollars. A thousand dollars. That had better be one awesome date he was getting. With himself, since he was paying for it. He took a swig of water. At least it was going to a great cause.

  His mother had better be planning on stumping up with some of it. At least half. What was she thinking? He’d have to find out later, since she’d disappeared faster than a dingo on a scent when the auction finished.

  He finished his dessert and swiped a large wedge of his mother’s serving of cheesecake. The band had started, filling the room with some swinging jazz. Across the table, she with the open wallet sat taking delicate bites of her dessert.

  Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, walking around to her.

  Paige looked up and smiled. “Just think of what good your generous support will do.”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  Paige scooped up the last piece of her dessert. “I am. I also really don’t have a spare $1000.”

  “No worries. Email me your bank details when you get home and I’ll transfer the money tomorrow.” He held out his hand. “In the meantime, care to dance?”

  Surprise flickered across her face. “You remember you’ve seen me dance, right?” She put down her spoon and dabbed her lips with her navy napkin.

  He nodded, grinning. “Thankfully, I’m a lot better than you.”

  She eyed him up. “Thought you said it wasn’t your spiritual gift either?”

  “Okay, I may have exaggerated to make you feel a little better. Not to rub salt in the wound or anything, but I am pretty good.”

  “Have you even seen these? Do you really want your toes being mauled by them?” She poked out a glittering sandal from beneath her dress, with a heel that looked like it could double as a very effective weapon.

  “I’ll take my chances.” He waved his hand. “You going to leave me standing here like this, when you’ve just paid a grand for a date with me?”

  She shook her head, waves bouncing. “Fine. Can’t say you weren’t warned.” Her fingers curled around his and she stood. He saw the scar on her exposed forearm that he’d first noticed at their lunch in the food court. It ran from wrist to elbow, slight puckers and ridges telling a tale of major trauma.

  She always wore long sleeves in the office. Even though it had been a mild winter for the most part. He hadn’t even thought about it until right then.

  As if reading his mind, Paige removed her hand from his and dropped her arm to her side, a wary look entering her eyes.

  Whatever the story was, it obviously was one she held close. He, of all people, could appreciate that. He gave her a grin to lighten the moment. “Okay, my toes are as prepared as they’ll ever be.” Cutting through the crowd, they reached the edge of the mahogany dance floor. In the middle, the pros swirled, showing off their flash spins and dips. His hand settled on the small of Paige’s back. She stood as stiff as an ironing board.

  “It’s not that bad. Just relax. Have fun.” Placing his right arm around her waist, he picked up her other hand with his left and tried not to think about what he was doing.

  “Easy for you to say.” She put her free hand on his shoulder, and he tucked her closer into his chest.

  She smelled like apples and flowers. The fragrance embraced him, unbalanced him. His pulse thundered in his ears. Focus, Tyler, focus. It’s just a dance, one dance. Pretend she’s Sarah.

  That was impossible. There was nothing brotherly about what he was feeling. The way Paige curved into him perfectly, making him want to run his hands through her hair. Or bury his face into the curve of her neck. All highly inappropriate impulses since he wasn’t the guy sending her bouquets bigger than the Garden of Eden.

  They moved with the music. Slowly at first, then faster as Paige relaxed and started to follow his lead.

  “I should say thank you for rescuing me.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Even though it’s going to cost you a grand.”

  “I’m pretty sure my mother is going to find herself footing at least half of that.”

  She laughed. “Fair enough.”

  He maneuvered them through the outer crowd as the music swirled around them. “I should also tell you, you look beautiful tonight.”

  “Thanks. Not bad for a few hours’ notice.”

  “And . . .” He prompted.

  “And what?”

  “You look very dashing too, Josh.”

  She grinned. “Well since you’ve already been told, no need for me to say so.”

  “Fine.” He dropped her into a deep dip. She squealed as he caught her not far from the floor and pulled her back up.

  “How about now?”

  She grinned and shook her head, so he dipped her until her hair trailed along the wood beneath them and left her dangling. “Now.”

  She was laughing so hard she could barely get the words out.

  “What was that?”

  “Would you like me to split this too?”

 
Ah, no. He hauled her back up, his face tinged with heat. He kept her moving around the dance floor, trying to distract his mind from the thought.

  Surely the song had to be over soon.

  Her hand moved up his shoulder. Her fingers lingered on his neck, her body tucked close. Every thought shattered like atoms.

  “Josh.” Paige’s eyes glowed in the low light.

  “Mmm.” He was completely incapable of anything more coherent than that.

  “When I first started, you said I wasn’t of fit character to work for your mom. Why?”

  Were they going to have this conversation here? The truth was, he didn’t know anymore. He’d doubted what he thought he’d seen on the plane. He’d been watching her all night. She hadn’t touched anything other than water and juice.

  What could he say? That the last girl he’d dated had sold his family out to a tabloid? That the only one he’d ever loved had decimated the life they were planning together with secrets that left him with more baggage than LAX handled in a year?

  Her brown eyes probed his, waiting for him to answer.

  The song ended. “I—”

  “Do you mind if I cut in?”

  It was Kellie, tottering under the weight of a hairdo that would make Dolly Parton proud. Paige stepped back. “Of course not. Be my guest.”

  Kellie stepped in, grasping his shoulder as the next song started. “Heard what happened at the auction. Sorry. I would have saved you but didn’t realize. I’d stepped outside to get some air.”

  He watched the girl who had saved him walking away, cutting through the crowd without a backward glance.

  His arms felt empty. What if he had been completely wrong about her? Were his mistakes from the past still haunting him, leaving him chasing shadows where none existed?

  Twenty

  Three days later, Josh walked into his office to find Paige staring at her computer screen. He paused. Friday had changed things. He’d found himself looking for her in the crowd at church yesterday. Even contemplated leaving the safety of the stage after the service to see if he could find her. Spent his entire time in line at the cafe debating whether to buy her a coffee.

  He cleared his throat. “Morning.”

  Paige picked up a pen, scrawled something on the pad beside her. “Morning.” She barely gave him a glance before returning her attention to the screen, clicked on her mouse a couple of times. A takeout coffee cup sat near her keyboard.

  Okay. Good call on going no coffee. He settled into his chair, pulled out his laptop and logged in.

  “Hey, do you have a copy of your last US tour itinerary?”

  “Sure, somewhere. Want me to email it to you?” He clicked through a few files before he found it.

  “Yes, argh! No. My email keeps freezing up. Can you just tell me how you got from Nashville to Atlanta?”

  He opened the file, squinted at the tiny print on the program. “Some of us flew via DCA and others via CLT. What are they?”

  “Washington National and Charlotte. Let me see.”

  Suddenly he found his chair being nudged over as she wheeled herself up next to him and peered at the screen.

  “What’s your criteria for price versus transit time?” She tapped the screen pointing at the two departure and arrival times. “I can get a more direct route that will be 90 minutes faster but tickets are fifty dollars more per person. I was wondering if you had that option last time but chose to go for the routes you did to save money. Do you remember?”

  He couldn’t think about anything beyond the fact that her hair always smelled like apples. Why couldn’t they just make shampoo that smelled like nothing? And he wasn’t even going to let himself think about the way that her shoulder was brushing his or that her breath smelled like peppermint.

  He cleared his throat. “Don’t forget that Sam and Alana can’t sit together on the long-haul flights.”

  Paige’s brow crinkled. “What are you talking about? Why not?”

  “Because they’re dating.”

  “I know that. That usually means people want to sit together.”

  “It’s in the touring rules. Did I not give you a copy?” Leaning forward, he navigated into a folder and opened a document. “Here. It applies to everyone who travels on tour with us. I’ll email it to you.”

  Paige started reading the table of contents. “Accommodation. Couples. Days off. Dress code. Entertainment. Flights. Ground transport.” She stopped speaking and started scrolling through the fifty-odd pages. “Closed toed shoes only. Dark or neutral tones are preferred. Women’s heels on stage must be less than two inches.” She swung to look at him. “Seriously?”

  Of course she didn’t get it. He would think it was ridiculous too if it wasn’t for the “constructive feedback” he received every other day. “Every single one of those rules has come out of complaints we’ve received. Appearances matter. Every person associated with Due North has to be above reproach in every way.”

  Paige swung back to face the screen and kept scrolling. “I’m not disagreeing with you but has it ever occurred to you that some people will always find something to be offended by, no matter how many rules you have?”

  “Trust me. I know. I hear from them often.” He moved his chair a couple of centimeters to the right to give her a bit more space. Paige didn’t even notice, her gaze fixed on the screen.

  “You mean emails like that?”

  “Like what?” He turned his attention back to the computer.

  “Like that.” She pointed to where the notification of a new email had popped up in the bottom right hand corner, containing the subject and the opening sentence. All of which indicated it was the kind of email that would force him to breathe deeply and sit on his hands.

  “A few.” A week. But they weren’t her problem.

  She nibbled her thumb for a second. “Do you mind if I read it?”

  Did he mind? Not really. Would he prefer that she didn’t get polluted by his hate mail? Yes. He shrugged. “Go for it.”

  She reached over to the keyboard and clicked on the rectangular box. He leaned back in his chair, staring at a spot above the computer. He didn’t need to read it. After so many years, he’d already read every possible variation of that email.

  His personal favorites were the ones that called him the anti-Christ and somehow managed to derive a 666 from everything that he wore, said, or played.

  He heard a sharp intake of breath.

  He cringed. “What’d that part say?”

  Silence.

  “C’mon, Paige. It’s nothing I haven’t gotten before.”

  “It’s horrible.” Her voice wobbled. “I’m not saying it.”

  He tilted his head back down. The email was gone from the screen, and Paige was blinking furiously, bottom lip looking shaky.

  “Hey. It’s okay. It comes with the territory.”

  “But why would someone say something like that?”

  He shrugged. “Why do people do a lot of things? Because they’re hurting, because they’re lost, because they’re in such a dark place they can’t imagine that everyone else doesn’t dwell there too.” Those were the things he’d had to constantly tell himself to stop from hitting the reply key and raining down righteous indignation. Which, no doubt, would then get plastered on the person’s social media pages and go viral.

  “How do you deal with it?” Her foot tapped on the floor. He’d noticed she did that whenever she was nervous or agitated.

  He thought for a second. “I don’t answer to them. I answer to God and those closest to me. I pray every time that I walk on that stage that I am doing it for the right reasons, to bring glory to Him. That’s all that matters. If I, or any of us in the band, spent our time trying to please everyone, trying to make our lyrics so inoffensive that they become meaningless, worrying about if someone thinks jeans are blasphemous, then we’d never do anything.”

  He ran his hands through his hair, tried to find the right words. “At its core, the g
ospel is offensive. We are all sinners. We all fall short of God. No matter how good a person we are, how nice a life we lead, we all need Jesus to bridge the gap for us. No exceptions. I’d be more worried if we weren’t offending anyone. Then we’d have a real problem.”

  She was silent. He chanced a glance to his side. Paige had pulled one knee up onto her chair, wrapped her arms around it. Her brows were pinched, full bottom lip caught under top teeth. Had he gone too far? Been too forceful? The seconds ticked by, his discomfort growing with each one. She was probably drawing up a list of his many character flaws, comparing them to what he’d just said and judging him to fall desperately short of his own rhetoric.

  Finally, she puffed out a little breath. “You’re not what I thought.”

  That was not what he had been expecting. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

  She looked at him with uncertain eyes. “I don’t know.”

  Twenty-One

  “All right, everyone. That’s a wrap for tonight.” The studio sound guy flicked his hand across his throat, resulting in muted cheers from the band.

  Paige looked up from where she was working on her laptop. Never again would she think cutting an album was glamorous work. She’d wanted to bang her head against a wall a few times, and she wasn’t the one being forced to sing the same worship lyrics over and over in the pursuit of harmonic perfection. And she’d only been here for forty-five minutes. The band had been in here for days.

  “So, what did you think?” Kellie had materialized beside her, her hand twisting the top off a water bottle.

  Paige hit save on her spreadsheet. Checked it was also saving to the backup location. “You guys sound great.”

  “I was thinking Worthy might be a good opener for the first night. Once we pull it together, it could be something special.”

  “You guys are the musicians. I trust your instincts on this.” Although Kellie was right. Worthy was a good song. They all were. A couple of them just needed a few tweaks.

  She was only here because she needed to talk to Josh to tie off a few loose ends about the tour. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d read his hate mail. He hadn’t replied to her emails, so she had resorted to stalking him in his studio while trying to work out the logistics of getting thousands of women at Grace in and out of eighteen bathrooms in a twenty-minute window.