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Ignoring my last question, she asks, “Are you going to help me find the perfect guy?”
“I will help in any way I can,” I tell her. “I’ll let you know if I hear people talking about you, and I’ll fill you in on any gossip that comes my way.”
“I’ll do the same for you,” she says.
“I’m going to have the filet with mushrooms and a baked potato,” I tell her, trying to get her off the topic of our social lives.
She quickly glances at the menu. “I’m going to have the chicken pot pie.”
“It’s wonderful,” I assure her. “You’ll definitely have enough left over for lunch tomorrow.”
“I won’t,” she says.
“You might. It’s big.”
Her eyes narrow like I’ve offended her. “Don’t let my petite frame fool you. I can really put it away.”
“Where in the world do you put it?”
“Don’t skinny shame me.”
I wink in response. “I would never. If anything, I was fat shaming the pot pie.”
Luckily, our waiter comes over and takes our order, giving the air a chance to clear. When he leaves, Paige tells me, “I’m sorry I’m in such a mood tonight. I’m just getting nervous with the first mixer coming up so soon.”
“Don’t be nervous,” I try to console her. “I’ve got your back.”
She pours more wine into her glass before topping off mine. “I found out there’s another guy from Elk Lake.” I raise my eyebrows to indicate she should tell me. “He’s a substitute eighth-grade science teacher, and he’s a real pain in the butt implants.”
I have no idea what the butt implant comment is all about, and she doesn’t tell me. Instead, she fills me in on what happened at school this morning with Chip. I can’t imagine he’s nearly as bad as she makes him out to be, but I’m enjoying her comedic reenactment, so I don’t come to his defense. “I look forward to meeting him.”
She jolts back in her seat. “Yuck, why?”
I decide to play along like I’m taking this matchmaking seriously. “He’s my competition, isn’t he?”
“He is in no way your competition. He’s a short, grumpy, know-it-all with a bad disposition and a stupid name.”
“And I’m what? A tall, handsome charmer?” I shrug my eyebrows hoping for confirmation.
She takes a sip of water like she’s buying herself time. Once the glass is back on the table, she says, “You are lovely.”
“That’s it? Lovely? There’s got to be something else to recommend me.” I’m not even faking being annoyed.
“You’re a very nice man.”
“Nice? Come on, Paige, you’re killing me here.”
She clears her throat before adding, “You’re easy on the eyes.”
For the love of … “Handsome?” I’m full-on begging for her to agree with me.
After several long moments, she does. “Fine, you’re handsome.”
I know I’m pushing my luck, but I’m curious to see how Paige will react, so I tell her, “I expect to be the source of many girl fights.”
“I wouldn’t take that bet.”
“Excuse me?” I’m starting to think Paige is holding a grudge from our teenage years.
