Page 12 of New Year, New You and Me

Maybe—just maybe—Bradley is a good man with a kind heart. I know what Pigeon would say if she could do more than meow and hiss.

Then again, she once had a flirtation with a feral cat who ended up knocking up the neighbor’s cat and skipping town.

It’s safe to say, she hasn’t always had the best taste in men.

Pigeon and I aren’t the only women swooning over Bradley.

One hour at the senior center where we’re working on resolution number three—volunteering—and he already has a fan club forming. We arrived this afternoon prepared to play checkers or gin rummy. Instead, we found the residents assembled in the rec room for a dance.

Unlike the rest of Alaska, where the men outnumber women, there are more women than men gathered. Rumor has it that some of the guys are engaged in a secret high-stakes poker game. Whatever the reason, there are plenty of women looking for a dance partner. Good sport that he is, Bradley seemed willing to oblige.

“He certainly has a way with women,” one of the nurses says to me as we watch him awkwardly spin a partner on the floor.

“He’s a regular Casanova.”

Still, I can’t help but smile at the way he has each of his partners looking at him as if he hung the moon.

Eileen, one of his first dance partners, sits next to me. “When are you going to marry this fella of yours?”

“Oh, we aren’t together.”

“Sure, dear. Whatever you say.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “But let me say, if I was even ten years younger, and that man looked at me the way he keeps stealing glances at you, I wouldn’t be sitting here being a wallflower.”

I can’t help but laugh. “What would you do?”

“I’ll let you paint your own picture. But if it were me, it would probably involve sneaking off to one of the empty bedrooms. You know”—she wiggles her nearly invisible eyebrows at me—“all of the beds here are adjustable.”

I choke on the air. “Are they now?”

“Yes, ma’am. And I don’t mind telling you, there’s a lot of fun to be had when you can put your bed in different positions.”

My cheeks are burning so hot, I turn to stare at a watercolor of a teddy bear on the wall. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I’ve mostly recovered by the time Bradley has made his way through the line of seniors wanting to partner him for a dance.

“I’ll tell you this,” I whisper as he drops into the seat next to mine. “You could clean up if you were into much older women.”

As if on cue, Doris—an adorable spitfire who’s pushing ninety—hobbles past on her walker and blows him a kiss.

Chuckling, he wiggles his fingers in the air at her. “They’re sweet. They remind me of my grandma. She lives in Anchorage now. I try to visit her and her friends as often as I can.”

“Is that where you learned your sweet dance moves?”

His eyes narrow. “I didn’t see you cutting a rug out there.”

“Hey, I’m not the one pretending I know how to dance out there.”

“That’s it.” Taking my hand, he rises to his feet and pulls me up with him. “We’re going to see how you do out there.”

“Oh…” I clench my teeth together and grimace. “I was just kidding.”

“Nope. You’re in for it now. Rosie.” He turns to the bottle-dyed redhead running the record player. “Put on something peppy.”

“You’ve got it, sweetie.”

An old jazzy song crackles over the speakers. Bradley raises our clasped hands in the air and rests his spare palm on my waist.

I swallow hard, my pulse quickening. “I meant it. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

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