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Picking up the bottle, I recognize the scent instantly. This is what I've been smelling. Laney in a bottle.
My nose hovers over the small opening, and I take in a few deep breaths. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I feel ridiculous and look like a freak.
Stop smelling it! Embarrassment makes my gut clench, so I double check over my shoulder to make sure she isn't standing there watching me in horror.
All clear.
Setting it back down, I go back to the whole reason I'm even here: shower doors.
Sitting down for lunch with her was really nice. It was the longest conversation I've had in a really long time, actually. And it felt so natural, aside from the few times I made it awkward.
My feet crunch over the builder's paper I laid on the floor as I move through the living room to throw debris from the bathroom into the back of my truck. Each time I pass, Laney's head is buried in her drawings as I walk by, bopping to the music.
I should ask her out to dinner. What's the worst she can say? No?
Glancing at myself in the mirror again above the sink, I give myself a little pep talk. I need to just go for it. Nothing can hurt as much as what I've already been through. Fuck it, if a girl I hardly know says no to a date, it isn't even going to cause a sting. Life will go on, like it always does.
Packing up my stuff for the day, I shut off the light and start down the hall. “Hey, so I'm all done for today,” I say as I rearrange my tools in my work belt. I'm looking down, still talking. “I put up a temporary curtain for now, this way you have—”
My eyes jump up, and I stop talking instantly. Laney is sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She smiles, her eyes sparkling as she holds up both glasses.
“Got time for dinner and wine?” she asks, her voice confident, but holding a hint of uncertainty.
I can’t answer. I’m positively tongue-tied with surprise. I want to say yes, but the shock I feel is holding me back. “Uh, I, uh—”
I'm stuttering! Why the hell am I stuttering?
She drops her eyes to the table as she sets down the glasses and tries to force a smile. “It's fine if you don't want to, I totally understand.” Focusing on a wrinkle in the tablecloth, she smooths it over. “I mean I've got work to do anyway, and I'm sure you have other work to do—”
Think of something to say, man, before you blow this! “No, no,” I say, cutting her off quickly before she talks herself out of it completely. “I'd like that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. You just took me by surprise is all. I didn't expect this.”
Her eyes lift back to mine, and she tilts her head. “Anders, I punched a guy in the face, and let you take me home, but my offer for dinner is surprising?”
I chuckle and rake a nervous hand through my hair. “I guess I should be afraid of you, not surprised by you, huh?”
Laney giggles, and I swear that giggle lights up something inside me. It's raw, fresh, a flame that's been flickering in the darkness, and is now a burning inferno. I want this woman. I want this woman, and I don't think there is anything she can do to change my mind.
“Good, you can help me peel potatoes.” She pours two glasses of wine and brings one over to me. “Come on, I'm starving.”
I follow her back to the kitchen, and she sets me up with a bowl of potatoes and the peeler. She sits across from me with a cutting board and starts chopping some onions and other vegetables for a salad. We work and drink and talk. Idle talk. She asks me the plans for the shower doors, when they’ll be done. I ask her a little more about her work and she explains her artistic process.
By the time she’s grilling a steak at the oven and I’m mashing the steaming potatoes, we’re on our second glasses of wine and telling each other about our pasts. What is was like for her in art school. She gets an excited glint in her eye telling me about her favorite professors and all the friends she made. And I tell her about my clients in town and some of my favorite projects.
When we set the table, she hands me plates and cutlery and it feels like we’ve been doing this forever. Like we’re already in a routine. A familiar old dance. She lights the candles and I pour more wine. We sit across from each other and talk and laugh easily. We compare our childhoods; me growing up in this small mountain town and her in the bustling city.
