62. Chapter 62
Chapter 62
It took David only a few seconds to realize that the ‘click’ sound he heard was the lock on Paige’s door being engaged. Then, from inside, he heard, “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”
Taking a deep breath, he adjusted himself, which took some maneuvering given the situation going on in his pants, and knocked on her door. When she didn’t answer, he knocked again.
“Paige? Please open the door.”
“Good night,” she said, her voice slightly muffled. “Drive home safely.”
After more knocking, which got him nowhere, he called her. Not surprisingly, she didn’t answer and it went to voicemail, so he left a message, even though he felt utterly ridiculous doing so. “Hi, it’s David. Can you please open the door?”
When that didn’t work, he texted her.
DAVID: I’m still out here. We need to talk, so either come out, or call me. Those are your two choices.
DAVID: Scratch that. Come out or FaceTime me, because I need to see your face. Those are your choices.
DAVID: I know you’re reading these. So, here’s the deal. If you don’t talk to me now, I’ll come see you at work, which I know you love. We can do this here, or at work … it’s up to you.
DAVID: Actually, never mind. It’s late and I’m getting tired, so I’m going home to get some shut-eye and I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Sleep well.
Almost immediately, his phone rang with an incoming FaceTime request from Paige. Smiling, he quickly accepted the request and her face came onscreen; she looked anxious, unsure, and conflicted all at once.
Just as he told her, “Open the door,” the door behind him and across the hall opened and a woman stepped out. She was older (like she might have actually cast a vote for FDR on his first presidential run), with silver-white hair and a heavily lined face. She was also frowning and looked like she was thinking about grabbing her purse from inside her apartment, then hitting him with it.
He didn’t need this.
“It’s after 10 p.m. What’s going on out here?” the old woman asked.
“Oh, shit,” David heard Paige say through the phone, but it was accompanied by a quickly stifled laugh.
“Nothing’s going on out here.” David turned to the old woman and gave her a smile. “I’m sorry if we disturbed you.”
“We?” She looked at him like he was a convicted felon, out on parole and about to violate it by committing murder. “The only person I’m hearing is you.”
His smile wasn’t going to work on her, apparently, so he decided to turn on the charm. “I’m really sorry, ma’am, I—”
“Don’t call me ma’am. I really hate that. My name is Dolores—Dolly to my friends.” This was said without any warmth whatsoever. “To you, I’m Mrs. Harte,” she added, but before he could fully register that bit of rudeness, she was demanding, “And who might you be?”
This was the elderly neighbor Paige had befriended? The one who couldn’t tolerate spicy food? “I’m David.”
“You need a haircut, David.”
David could hear Paige laughing at the blunt insult and he gave her a dirty look via FaceTime, which only made her laugh more behind her hand.
“Well? What’s going on out here?” Mrs. Harte asked again, this time with more impatience.
He decided to just be straight with her and to hell with charm, which wasn’t working anyway. “I was just trying to talk to Paige.”
“Through a closed door? No wonder you were yelling.”
He really didn’t need this; but on the bright side, his raging boner had gone away. “I wasn’t yelling. Okay, maybe a little. But I was trying to get her to open the door so we could talk. Face to face.”
To Paige, he mouthed, Open the door.
To his irritation, she shook her head.
“Is there a reason she’s not opening the door? Did you do something stupid? That’s the problem men have, more often than not.” Mrs. Harte crossed her arms across her narrow chest. “Tell me what you did.”
His manners were seriously being tested by this woman. “That’s between Paige and I.”
“Paige and me.”
“What?”
“Proper grammar is ‘That’s between Paige and me’.” Mrs. Harte said, before muttering, “The education system in this country has really gone to hell.”
“Sorry. That’s between Paige and me,” he said, hearing Paige’s laughter once again. “Thank you for correcting me.”
“Well, David, since you woke me up with all your noise, it’s now between you, Paige, and me. And maybe the police. I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to get them involved.”
From his phone, Paige suddenly called out, “We’re sorry, Dolly! David was just leaving.”
“No. I wasn’t,” he protested.
Mrs. Harte looked at the phone in David’s hand. “Well, this just got really weird. Is that Paige on the phone?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Harte held out her hand. “Give it to me.”
“You want my phone?”
“Yes, I want your phone.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m going to talk to her,” she answered, exasperated. “What else?”
“If I give you my phone, will you get her to open her door?”
“Just give me your phone.”
Reluctantly, he handed it to the old lady.
“Hi, Paige,” Mrs. Harte said, her voice full of sunshine now.
“Hi, Dolly.”
“I meant to tell you the other day when I saw you, that I got some of those fresh cat treats that Sputnik likes so much.”
“You’re so sweet. Thank you.”
David rolled his eyes in frustration. What was going on right now? Why were they talking about cat treats?
“You’re welcome. And before you say I shouldn’t have, I got them on sale, so it was no big deal. Why don’t you come by in the morning and pick them up? Not too early, though, because I like to sleep in. Especially when I’m up late.” The last part was delivered with a pointed look at David.
“I’ll stop by before I go to work,” Paige promised. “Around 10 a.m.”
“All right. Good night, dear.”
“Good night.”
Mrs. Harte then gave David back his phone and turned toward her apartment door, without wishing him a good night.
“Wait!” he cried out, cringing when he heard the desperation in his voice. “I thought you were going to get her to open her door—”
“Why did you think I was going to do that? And how did you think I was going to do that? With my magical powers?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Paige is a grown woman, with free will—”
“I never said she wasn’t—”
“—and it’s her decision whether or not to open her door and talk to you—”
“I know, but—”
“—and if she’s not willing to open her door and talk to a man who’s not bad looking, has decent teeth, and wears his pants well …” Mrs. Harte trailed off and shook her head. “Then you must have really done something stupid, is all I can say.”
“All I did was kiss her.” The words were out of David’s mouth and into the hallway before he could stop them.
“That’s all you did? Exactly how bad of a kisser are you?”
“What?” He sounded like a shocked little boy.
Paige laughed out loud and then quickly stifled it.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Mrs. Harte gave him a disappointed look. “You’re a bad kisser.”
God, this woman. “That’s not it. I’m not a bad kisser.”
“Kissing is important, David. Being good at it matters.”
“I know. I’m not a bad kisser. I’m not.” Now he sounded like a little boy having a tantrum—the only thing he wasn’t doing was stamping his fucking foot.
“I’m not taking your word for it.” Mrs. Harte grabbed David’s phone out of his hand. “Paige, dear, is he a bad kisser?”
He held his breath, waiting for the answer, praying she didn’t give Mrs. Harte any more ammunition to use against him.
“No.” Paige’s voice was soft, almost reluctant. “He’s not.”
“See? I told you,” David said, elatedly.
“Then what’s the problem?” Mrs. Harte asked Paige, ignoring David.
“He’s … my ex-husband.”
“And?”
“And, obviously we shouldn’t be kissing.”
Mrs. Harte looked thoughtful. “To be honest, I don’t know that I see a problem with it—”
“Thank you, Mrs. Harte,” David said. Finally, the woman was talking sense.
“Calm down, Romeo, we’re not best friends yet,” Mrs. Harte told him, then resumed speaking to Paige. “Like I was saying, I don’t know that I see a problem with it, unless he’s someone else’s current husband. Is he currently married to someone else?”
“He’s standing right here, and no, he’s not,” David said, only to realize he was referring to himself in the third person, and added quickly, “I’m not.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think kissing your ex-husband is the worst thing you could do,” Mrs. Harte murmured to Paige. “Especially if he’s good at it. Life’s shorter than you think, dear, so make sure you enjoy it while you’re still above ground.”
Mrs. Harte turned and handed David back his phone, then went into her apartment without another word.
David looked down at his screen just as Paige disconnected their FaceTime connection. Thinking she was going to try and vanish again, he immediately raised a hand to knock on her door, but she opened it before he could.
He was immediately struck by how unsure and unsettled she appeared again, without Mrs. Harte there to provide an amusing distraction. It was now just him and Paige and while he wanted to push forward to discuss what had happened—because it needed to be discussed—it was clear that she didn’t. So David pulled back instead, accepting that the conversation would have to wait for another time.
“I had a really good time tonight,” he told her gently, and it was clear by her surprised expression that she’d been expecting a little more blitzkrieg from him; possibly because he’d been semi-pounding on her door ten minutes ago.
“And I look forward to collecting on that bet,” he tacked on with a smirk before tilting his head in farewell and turning away. As he walked down the hall, he was pretty sure Paige was watching him because he didn’t hear her door close. David wanted to look back and see if she was appreciating the pants he ‘wore well’, but refrained.
It wasn’t until he got home and was lying in bed that he let himself really think about the evening with Paige and how much fun he’d had.
And how a few kisses and a double handful of ass had literally rocked his world.
And it got him thinking.