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“Thanks,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I like the connections I make with people, the emails I get from them saying they tried something I suggested and it woke up their palates.” She recrossed her legs and leaned forward, and Grant gripped the wheel. “But the truth is that when you get us all together, we’re like gerbils who’ve found a stash of Gummy Bears.”
She laughed at herself again, low and husky, and his foot twitched on the gas pedal.
Keep it in your pants. “Why?” he managed.
“Because we’re all amped up about menial stuff.” Something soured in her tone. “We run around stuffing our faces with vendor food and discussing the best way to build a following or photograph an eggplant in July. It’s frantic and funny and relatively meaningless.” She shifted and for a moment her hair shone in the rearview mirror. “There are good times too. Like, a mom wrote me recently. She’d gotten brave and tried some of my recipes because she wanted to fall in love with food. She wants her daughter to love food. There’s something real there. That part feels good.” She sighed. “At least that part feels good.”
Grant nodded. “I get it. I know what it feels like when I contribute and when I don’t. It makes a difference.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. Then she seemed to shake herself.
“What kind of car is this?” she asked brightly. “I’ve never been in such a nice Kaar before.”
Way to blend in, Paul.Grant scrambled for a suitable reply. “Yeah it’s a little above and beyond, but boys and their toys, right?”
Melisa laughed. “And does this toy have snow tires? Are we going to make it to my car?”
“Nothing but the best for this baby. You’ll get to where you’re headed, no problem.” Grant forced his voice to be calmer than he felt and waited. Was a little lighthearted chauvinism enough? Lit by oncoming traffic, Melisa’s cheek flexed in the outline of a smile and Grant released the breath he held.
That’s enough talking for now.
~
It felt good to talk to Gerald about her weekend. It always feels good to get down on some bread pudding, especially when it smells this amazing. Melinda inhaled. Was there pine, too? Yes, plus spice. And...Motor oil? She was enjoying herself. What was the food parallel for a sexy-smelling man? Did there need to be a parallel? A good-smelling man was delectable on his own.
City lights brightened beyond the tinted windows. Gerald’s car changed highways and industrial complexes made way for stadiums and high-rises. Snow fell faster, and the windshield wipers whirred steadily. The engine’s hum soothed her, and before long a sign predicted the Ward Road Park & Ride. He’d taken her to her car. Not a serial killer.
Point, Melinda.
Not that she’d wanted her internal parent to be right. And not that Melinda didn’t trust her own sense of unease. She’d honed her instincts over the twenty years since adolescence; it was a requirement of being a woman. “Is he looking at me?” “Is there anyone else around?” “Was that innuendo?” “Did anyone else see that?” The list of questions in the playbook of Sexual Harassment and Assault Prevention was long, not to mention infuriating.
She waited for Gerald to signal and move to the right lane, almost sad that their chemically charged time together was ending.
Gerald’s signal stayed silent. The car stayed left.
Oh, he knows another route.Melinda pushed against the tinge of worry. She peered around Gerald’s seat to check his GPS. Instead of the illuminated map mounted to the dashboard that she expected, she saw a phone with a darkened screen. Melinda’s stomach tightened. Why wasn’t Gerald following a map?
Well obviously it was because he knew of another exit. Stop being dramatic. He’s been here twice today; he’s avoiding construction.
“This is the exit,” she said, her voice intentionally light, as if she were simply reminding him and not speculating on his likelihood of being a psychopath.
“Tonight’s the night, Melisa,” said Gerald. He angled his head toward her and smiled. “Congratulations.”
The smile was off, and Melinda’s stomach clenched harder. No eye crinkles this time.
“Wait, what?” The hairs on her arms stood high.
Melinda flattened her palms against her thighs and forced air into her lungs.
What had he said? He thought her name was Melisa. A simple mistake—he hadn’t read her name correctly.
Or she was in the wrong Kaar. It probably happened all the time. Soon he’d pull over and they’d figure out what went wrong.
Gerald’s eyes flicked to hers in the rearview mirror.
“Paul set it up for Sunday night because he wanted it to be a surprise. He said it’s normally over a weekend, but he knows how you like surprises. So here we are.” He smiled the empty smile again. “Variety. Hope you enjoy yourself.”
A cold fist gripped her heart and Melinda shivered against the warm seat.
