Then There Was You Page 9

  “What?” Her words came out sharp, accusatory.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  Okay, to be fair, he hadn’t. She snuck a glance. His expression didn’t seem to hold any hint of “the girl needs to start laying off the burgers” in it.

  “Sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “I—forget it.” She shook her head.

  “Is this how it’s going to be?”

  “What?”

  “Us working together. If we’re going to be thrown together like this, maybe we could declare a truce, just try to be civilized.”

  Paige studied him. He seemed genuine, and yet . . . “Are you going to take back what you said about me not being of fit character to work for your mom?”

  His gaze hardened. “No.”

  “Then yes, that’s how it’s going to be.”

  “Number fifty-four.”

  That was her. She moved toward the counter.

  Oh.

  The woman at the counter pushed forward a plate with a towering monstrosity—three thick beef patties, bacon, cheese, an egg, a slice of pineapple, what looked like a hash brown patty, lettuce, tomato and something purple. The bottom half of the bun was almost flattened under the weight, and the top half teetered on the leaning pile. Next to it sat an enormous pile of fat fries. She wasn’t sure she could lift the meal, let alone eat it.

  She handed over her ticket, added her bottle of soda to the brown plastic tray, and grasped both sides.

  The woman dropped on a couple packets of ketchup. “Haven’t made one of these in ages. Your boyfriend sure must be hungry.”

  “It’s for me.” The women’s eyes widened as Paige hefted the tray. The burger tottered, then in slow motion, the top of the bun and the first patty slid off the top with a slurp.

  She had a better chance of playing for the symphony again than she did of getting through this lunch with what remained of her dignity still intact.

  Which was fine. She didn’t care what Josh thought he knew of her. All that mattered was that he didn’t know the truth.

  Josh smothered a grin. The thing was bigger than her head. Paige sat on the other side of the plastic table with such a defeated expression on her face, he almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

  She craned her neck and studied the burger from all angles, like a demolition worker sizing up a building that needed to be destroyed. There was no chance she could fit that thing in her mouth, although it would be entertaining watching her try.

  She picked up a chip, stabbed it into her mound of tomato sauce, and took a bite, still eyeing the burger like it might jump off the plate and attack her.

  Either she was going to have to admit defeat and disassemble the thing into manageable pieces or the first bite would send the contents flying in all directions. That he had learned from experience.

  He sighed. No matter how much she irritated him, he wasn’t that mean. “You might want to take it apart.”

  She cast him with a withering glare. “I can eat a burger, thank you.”

  “I’m sure you can, but—”

  “In America, we call this a snack.”

  He shrugged and picked up his own kebab, hiding his smile behind it. She couldn’t say he hadn’t warned her.

  Using both hands, she leaned down on the top of the bun, squashing the monster down. Tomato sauce oozed out the side, then the sticky yellow of broken egg yolk, followed by a stream of purple beetroot juice. Grabbing both sides, she hefted the thing up like a trophy until it was perched in front of her mouth.

  He glanced over his shoulder. The table behind then was empty. Thank goodness. Because something was sure to come flying in his direction, and when it did, he’d be moving fast. He wasn’t going to end up wearing half a grease factory just because Little Miss Professional Eater America had something to prove.

  She opened her mouth, then opened it some more. Wow. It was like the girl could unhinge her jaw or something. He’d driven in tunnels that were smaller. Taking a deep breath, she bit down. He coiled, ready to dive left or right. Like he was a fighter pilot in World War II dodging flak above enemy territory.

  The burger wobbled and bulged, a lone pickle escaping and dropping to her plate with a plop. Then she pulled it away from her face and sat there chewing, serenely. He stared at her, at the burger.

  She chewed for a few seconds, then swallowed. “Not bad. Needs some barbeque sauce.” Then, turning the burger a few centimeters, she went for her second bite. This time nothing dropped, spilled, plopped. It all held together, like she was eating nothing more substantial than a peanut butter sandwich.

  A ripple of something traveled through him. Admiration. Begrudging, but admiration nonetheless. Who was this girl who handled a burger better than any guy he knew?

  Her sleeves had slid down her arms. The pale scar ran from her wrist to the middle of her forearm, then disappeared back under the cuff. That must have been some break. And the way her gaze had flickered and her breath hitched when he asked about it indicated there was more to it than she liked people to know.

  He didn’t need to know what it was. Everyone had their story. All he needed to know about Paige was that she could do the job that had to be done.

  Yet his gaze kept returning to the scar.

  Setting her burger back down, Paige picked up a couple of chips and popped them into her mouth. “You not hungry?”

  She nodded toward his kebab, which he’d been holding for who-knew-how-long while he watched her. Smooth, Josh, real smooth.

  She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “You can keep staring at me while I eat if you want, but how about you tell me about his tour?”

  Paige was going to be sick. Sixteen kinds of grease fought in her stomach. She’d spent the last ten minutes forcing down a few more bites of the meat monstrosity while Josh gave an overview of the tour she was going to help with. If she never saw another burger in her whole life, it would be too soon.

  But it had been worth it for the look on Josh’s face when she took that first bite. First shock, then awe. It had been all she could do to keep a straight face and chew. She’d been fully expecting the thing to explode like a cluster bomb, raining meat and condiments on them both. Her biggest hope had been that at least he would get pegged with the egg. Yolk was almost impossible to get out, and his T-shirt looked it didn’t have much life left in it anyway. Unlike her brand-new shirt.

  She abandoned her food and focused on draining her Diet Coke.

  “Are you going to finish those?” Josh pointed at her fries.

  She shook her head.

  “Do you mind?”

  She pushed her plate forward. “Be my guest.”

  She studied him as he emptied out the remains of her ketchup onto her fries. His dark hair poked in multiple directions, long dark lashes framing his gray eyes. His T-shirt stretched across his broad chest, highlighting well defined biceps exiting from each sleeve.

  Licking the ketchup from his fingers, he caught her gaze and smiled. It transformed his face, from arrogant and smug to—she tried to ignore the mini-hurricane it unleashed in the pit of her stomach.

  So he was good looking. So what? He was still a jerk. That was what mattered. There was a Bible verse about that somewhere. She clearly needed to find it, memorize it, and chant it to herself every time she was around this guy. Which, unfortunately, now looked like it would be often.

  Taking a swig of his water, Josh wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I have to say, that was impressive.” He seemed to be offering a tentative truce. She regarded it warily.

  “Thanks.”

  He took another sip, his eyes focused on the tabletop. “Are you at least a Christian?”

  First her character, now her faith? “Are you?”

  He choked. “Excuse me.”

  “Are. You. A. Christian?” She said the words slowly.

  “How could I not be?”

  Um, because, as her daddy used to say, going to church made you a Chris
tian about as much as going to McDonald’s made you a hamburger. She was thinking that applied even if you happened to be the son of megachurch uber-pastors. “Pretty sure there’s a verse in the Bible about how people are going to roll up to heaven, claiming they did all sorts of great things in Jesus’s name, and he’s going to shoot them down.” That was the Paige McAllister paraphrased translation. Available soon at a Lifeway near you.

  “Touché.” He held up his grease and ketchup-coated hands. “Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. That was offensive.”

  She stared at him. “Very.”

  He slurped the ketchup from his fingers, then sighed. “I apologize if I upset you. It’s just I’m protective of my family. My parents get a lot of grief just for being who they are. They’ve been burned before trusting the wrong people.”

  She could understand that. Fine. If they were going to have to work together, she’d meet him halfway. “I’m good at what I do, okay? I’m not going to pretend I’m a big fan of megachurches, because I’m not. And I certainly couldn’t care less if you and your band are some sort of big deal in the circles that you run in. Your whole life is basically my worst nightmare. So don’t expect any kind of star treatment from me. But if you just let me do my job, we’ll be fine.”

  He regarded her for a few seconds, then nodded. “Deal.”

  Something in Josh’s gaze tugged at her, cutting through her doubt and annoyance. Had her wanting to know what his deal was. What had happened in his charmed looking life to make him so cynical.

  Questions that would all have to remain unanswered. Josh Tyler had probably broken more hearts over the years than she’d played recitals. Hers was not going to be one of them.

  Thirteen

  “Hey.” Kellie gave a cursory tap on the door to Paige’s office.

  “Um, hi.” Paige turned in her chair as Kellie walked in and sat on her couch. She put down the stack of invoices she’d been triple-checking and eyed her surprise visitor. Kellie twirled a piece of long glossy hair. Her jeans-clad legs were crossed, polished brown boot dangling above the floor.

  They’d had occasional interactions since Kellie was the worship liaison for Grace, but this visit was a first.

  “I hear you’re coming to help us out with the tour.” Kellie crossed her legs, placing her perfectly manicured fingers on her knee.

  Paige tipped back in her chair, twirled her pen in her hands. “Just for a couple of days a week. Things with Grace are under control, so Janine asked if I could give you guys a hand with Marcy being sick and all.”

  “Well, I just wanted to drop by and say welcome to the team. If there’s anything I can do to help you with getting your feet under the desk, let me know.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.” Paige glanced down at the pile of papers on her desk. She had to get them done ASAP but Kellie seemed like a genuinely decent girl. “How long have you been at Harvest?”

  Kellie settled back in the couch. “My parents joined right at the beginning, when it was fifty people in a school hall in Yarra. My sister and I grew up with Amanda, Josh, and Sarah. Went to school together. Youth group. My mum was the church’s first official employee after Greg. Admin assistant. It’s just so crazy to think that now it’s turned into this.” She waved her hands around her.

  “And when did you join the band?”

  Kellie squinted for a second. “Eight, no nine, years ago. They’re like a second family. You spend so much time on the road together, and long hours in the studio.”

  “I can only imagine.” It wasn’t hard. That had almost been her life until it was ripped out from under her feet. Paige forced herself back to the present. “You have a beautiful voice.”

  “Thank you.” Kellie shifted slightly. “You must be super stoked getting to work with Josh and all.”

  Interesting. “I’m happy to help out the band however I can.”

  “But you’ll be mainly working with Josh.”

  Paige studied Kellie’s face for a second, forming her response. “Well, once I know what needs to be done, I imagine I’ll be mainly working with hotels, airlines, and your promoters in New Zealand and the US. Those sorts of people.” In fact, her plan was to have as little to do with the man himself as possible. That they’d survived lunch the week before without blood on the floor had been nothing short of a miracle. Since then, their only contact had been a few emails.

  Something like relief glimmered on Kellie’s face. The picture became crystal clear: this poor girl had dibs on the position of Mrs. Josh Tyler. And why shouldn’t she? She’d make the perfect superstar Christian wife.

  “So you don’t think you’ll be working with him much?”

  The sweet girl had it bad if she thought Paige might be competition. Paige managed to reign in her amusement and maintain a neutral expression. “I honestly don’t know. But I’d imagine he’s a busy guy so I’ll try to bug him the least amount possible. I’m a professional logistics manager for major events. I’ve worked with some big celebrities and the one thing they all have in common is being time poor.”

  “True.” Kellie sounded doubtful. Clearly she couldn’t imagine why any woman wouldn’t be jumping at the opportunity to work with Josh for as many hours as the Lord gave.

  Paige exhaled slowly. She should say more, assure Kellie she couldn’t be less interested in her trophy husband. The last thing she needed was for the woman to get in the way because she felt compelled to protect her turf.

  Kellie pointed to Nate’s bouquet. “They’re gorgeous flowers.”

  Perfect. Paige pasted a dreamy smile on her face. “Aren’t they? They’re from a good friend back home. He sent them for my first two months working here.” She leaned in and took a deep whiff. Okay, maybe that was overkill. But when she turned, Kellie had a smile on her face and was uncrossing her leg as if preparing to stand. She’d take that as a sign that she’d managed to remove the bull’s eye from her back.

  “Hey, Paige.” Josh stuck his head in her door.

  Paige watched from the corner of her eye as Kellie sat up straighter, chest thrusting out and giving her hair a discreet fluff. Josh’s gaze flickered to Kellie for a split second, then returned to Paige.

  “I wanted to let you know that if you need to make any international calls for the tour, come do it over in our offices. That’s the easiest way to get the cost coded to the band.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Paige reached for her invoices.

  “Well it’s been great chatting.” Kellie stood, straightening her jacket. “Josh, do you want to grab a coffee and go over the songs for Sunday?”

  Josh glanced at his watch. “I’m on my way to a meeting. You’re leading worship this week, so if you’re happy with the selection, send the song list through to the team.”

  Oh, the poor girl. The guy was clueless. Paige hoped she had a decent wingman on her team.

  “Thanks for dropping by.”

  She shook her head as Kellie scampered away down the corridor on Josh’s heels like an overenthusiastic terrier. Good luck to her. Kellie and Josh. Now, that match made perfect sense.

  Fourteen

  Standing in the pre-dawn dark, suited up in a gray and blue jumpsuit, head adorned with a snazzy headlamp, Paige rued her decision to start her birthday with a McMuffin. Even if it was tradition.

  She still couldn’t believe Nate had coordinated this with Kat, her cousin a more than willing co-conspirator.

  Kat loved surprises. Especially surprises that involved scaring the pants off Paige by hauling her out of bed at four-thirty in the morning.

  Paige jiggled the little black wheel attached to the belt around her waist. The wheel that would soon be clipped to a wire running up the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

  Hints of daylight surfacing on the horizon. The climb was timed so the sun would be rising as they reached the top.

  Paige swallowed hard, glad these people had given two safety lectures and checked and rechecked their equipment. The bridge got taller and scarier every ti
me she looked up. Majestic, imposing, steel arms twisting and reaching into the sky.

  Her cousin stood behind her in line, her lamp highlighting her face, which was glowing with excitement.

  Paige ran through the directions in her head. There were fourteen of them in the group. They would start in the climb base, then walk on catwalks below the bridge until they reached the southeast pylon. Then they’d ascend four ladders to the start of the upper arch before continuing along the bridge’s outer arch on the Opera House side until they hit the top, where they could enjoy the view, pose for pictures. After that, they would cross the spine of the bridge to the Darling Harbour side to make their descent back to the base.

  One of the guides came down the line, triple-checking everyone’s gear. They’d already been breath-tested. No chance of someone getting to climb after a big night out.

  Their group was a combination of ages and nationalities, all lined up in identical jumpsuits, like a chain gang from a prison movie. All the same, yet so different. From the guy who kept patting the obvious ring-box-sized bulge in his jumpsuit pocket to the young woman with tattoos curling above her neckline.

  Her headset crackled. “All right everyone, sunrise is at seven oh-one this morning, so it’s time to get moving.”

  The line shifted forward, Paige spun the little safety wheel in her hand, waiting her turn to be clipped on.

  When she reached the base, a guide attached her to the safety wire and she started walking along the catwalk. The traffic roared above, the sound of cars, trucks, and heavy machinery splicing through the peeking dawn. Then came the ladders. She soon felt her muscles protesting as she climbed, listening as the metal clanged and creaked under the weight of the group.

  Of all the fears she had, heights wasn’t one of them. Thank goodness. She soaked in the changing view. Half listened to the guide telling stories about the history of the bridge through her headset. Glanced below to see Kat’s enthralled face close on her heels.