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4. Brad Paisley – Ticks
"C'mon, Montana, are you serious? Danny Messer doesn't do picnics."
Lindsay arched an eyebrow. "You said anything."
"I did?"
"Yes."
He pouted. "But a picnic? Like wicker basket, checkered table cloth, that kind of picnic?"
She moved closer. "Like finding a secluded swimming hole somewhere, making love in the moonlight, skinny-dipping kind of picnic."
Danny cleared his throat. "Uh, oh, that kind of picnic. I dunno, babe. Not sure we can do that 'round here."
Lindsay smiled. "I know the perfect spot. I found it one day when I went for a drive out of the city to clear my head. C'mon, Danny."
"Really?"
"Really. I'll even let you check me for ticks."
He licked his lips, feeling the heat rising up his neck. "I don't know if we have ticks around here."
"I'll still let ya check me for 'em."
"I can do picnics."
