A Perfect Pair. Jen Safrey
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the phone.”
Nate hastily formed some kind of closing remarks before Josey snatched the receiver back from him. “Dad?”
“Hi, Josey.” He sounded distracted, but Josey wasn’t insulted. It wasn’t unusual for him to have many thoughts going around in his head at once. The mistake would be to take offense and ask him what he was thinking, so that he’d bombard her with mathematical problems he was trying to solve.
“Dad, you’d better quit for the day and take Mom out to dinner.”
“Why, is she angry at me?”
Josey sighed. If her father wasn’t the classic absentminded professor, she didn’t know who was. She was positive her mother had been pestering him all day to leave his desk, but he was so wrapped up in what he was doing that he didn’t give her imploring much thought. Luckily, her mother loved him so much it would never really matter.
“Believe me. Just go, Dad.”
“I will. And you have fun, too, Josey. We’ll see you for the reading.”
“Can’t wait, Dad. I love you. Tell Mom I love her, too. I would have told her myself but she just had to talk to Nate.”
“I hope he’s keeping you out of trouble.”
“Who’s ever been able to keep me out of trouble?”
“Nobody,” her father answered with a laugh. “But I’m hoping he can keep an eye on my wildest girl.”
“I’m your only girl.”
They said their goodbyes and Josey hung up the phone with a dramatic sigh. “Ah, my parents. Sorry about that, Nate.”
“Don’t apologize. They’re great.”
“If that’s how you feel, I’m just going to give them your phone number. Then my mother can call you at all hours of the day. Maybe she’ll buy you some new dish towels.” Josey giant-stepped across the living room and grabbed her bomber jacket—worn out enough to give the impression that it had gone through a war—off the lopsided rack in the corner. “You’re to keep an eye on me. Keep me out of trouble.”
“So I’m told. By both your parents. What have you ever done in your life that would make them think you need me?”
“Absolutely nothing.” Josey pushed her arms into her jacket sleeves. “Whatever you’ve heard, it’s a big fat rumor.” She stood in the middle of the room and tried to compose her face into an innocent, good-girl expression.
Nate reached over her head and, with both hands, adjusted an imaginary halo.
“Yes, that’s perfect,” he said. “An angel in leather.”
He stared straight into her face, from very close to her face, a half smile playing on his mouth. The skin on Josey’s upper lip grew moist. Then she shook her head quickly.
“In your dreams, Bennington,” she retorted. She crossed the room, flung open the door and made a grand, sweeping gesture with her arm. “After you, sir.”
The video store was a mob scene. Customers were wandering the aisles in search of the perfect viewing experience. Couples were arguing and bargaining, trying to choose between action films and romantic comedies. Nate had pushed into the store ahead of Josey, and as he made his way to the New Releases section—saying “excuse me” over and over—he turned and rolled his eyes at Josey.
She grinned back. “The Saturday night scene,” she said. “Hey, pick something fast. We still have to get the Chinese food.”
“No problem. Give me sixty seconds,” Nate replied, reaching the section. Josey always let him choose the movie. Usually he selected exactly what she would have chosen, anyhow. And if the flick turned out to be a real stinker, she still had a blast with Nate, making fun of it the whole way through, sometimes even muting the sound so they could create their own hilarious and racy dialogue. Movie nights with Nate were never disappointing.
While he scanned the shelves, Josey scanned the clientele. It was mostly date night in here, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt to check people out. And just as she was thinking this, she spied a man in Foreign Films, reading the back of a video box.
His trench coat gaped open to reveal a smoke-gray suit. His trouser legs were slightly rumpled, as if he’d been sitting at a desk all day. He was leaning on the shelf comfortably, seeming in no rush to make up his mind. Josey craned her neck to see his left hand under the box he was reading.
No wedding ring.
“I made a decision.”
Josey whirled at the sound of Nate’s voice close to her ear. “You scared me!”
“I’m sorry, but you…” His eyes traveled to where she had been staring. “Ah, I was picking a movie, but you were busy checking out the merchandise yourself.”
Josey poked him in the arm. “I was just looking, that’s all.” The man glanced up then, catching her watching him, and she felt stupid for about two seconds while he held her gaze. Then he smiled amicably. But when he glanced behind her, his smile dissolved into a slight frown and he went back to his video.
Josey turned and saw Nate glaring in the man’s direction. She pushed him behind a big Disney display.
“What is wrong with you, Nate? You’re going to ruin things for me.” If she peeked over Minnie Mouse’s head, she could check the man out without him seeing her.
“What things? You don’t have any ‘things’ with that guy. You don’t even know who the hell he is. Or do you?”
“No, I don’t. Why are you being so negative? Don’t you remember my plan? Well, I may have my first candidate.”
“That guy?” Nate scowled. “You look at him for twenty seconds and you’ve decided he’s perfect?”
“He has potential, that’s all I’m saying.”
“What potential, for crying out loud?”
Josey felt herself getting defensive. She would be uncomfortable going up to a total stranger and starting a conversation—and trying to make a date—in a video store. Most of her dates were men she already knew via friends or relatives, or had met previously at gatherings of some kind. But there was this urgency in her she couldn’t explain…and here it was, one week after telling Nate her plan, and she had no date. No life-changing possibilities. She had to take some kind of step here.
“He’s in the foreign films section,” she stated, her gaze darting from Nate’s wry face to the man and back again. “Which is frequented by the more intelligent, educated person, I’d say.”
“The only thing it means,” Nate replied dryly, “is that he can read subtitles. That would require, maybe, a third-grade education at the most.”
Josey was determined to make Nate agree with her. “Look at him. He’s dressed like a—like a lawyer.”
“Or a used-car salesman. Or a porn mag publisher. Or a mobster.”
“Why are you making this difficult for me?”
“Because of the way you’re going about this, Josey. You’re checking him out mechanically. Scientifically. You haven’t even said he’s cute or handsome.”
Josey peered back at the man. He put the video box back, behind the long white band of elastic that stretched from one end of the shelf to the other, holding the videos in place. He moved one long finger along the row of titles, selected another, pulled it out from behind the elastic and examined it. His blond hair was cropped short, almost in a military style. His face was all-American boy-next-door, but otherwise nondescript. She wasn’t about to admit that to Nate, however. After all, the man wasn’t ugly. “He’s perfectly nice looking,” she finally said.
“Perfectly nice looking. That’s