Scented Sensibility

by Amelia C. Adams

  Alan shook his head. “It’s not right. It’s just not right. We’ve got guys walking around out there who think the world owes them something, that they can just take whatever they want. Something’s got to change.”

  “And then we’ve got guys who stand up and do the right thing,” Lindy said softly. “Thank you.”

  “Well, I can’t take all the credit,” Alan said with a laugh. “My great-great-great-grandfather was a Canadian Mountie. Protecting people runs in my blood.”

  “He was a Mountie? That’s so cool. Where was he stationed?”

  “The Northwest Territories, up where the Northern Lights are the brightest.”

  “I’d love to see the Northern Lights someday. That’s actually been on my bucket list for a really long time.”

  “Me too.” Alan reached out and took Lindy’s hand. “Thank you for sharing your story with me. I know it wasn’t easy.”

  She gave a short laugh. “Understatement. But thank you for listening. And thank you for what you did last night. If more men were like you instead of like Saul . . .”

  “I think a lot of men are like me. They just don’t always have the opportunity to step into the fray.”

  “Opportunity? You make it sound so positive.”

  “The situation was definitely not positive. Having the ability to help? That was kind of awesome.”

  Lindy smiled. “You know what, yeah. It was kind of awesome. And now you get a whole month off work. What do you plan to do with it?”

  “I think I’ll spend the first week taking a lot of pain pills and feeling just a little bit sorry for myself. That seems completely justified. Then I’ll catch up on some repairs around my apartment—stuff I’ve been meaning to get to for a while.”

  “That sounds kind of boring,” Lindy replied.

  “It does. Really boring. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Well, you could come visit me. Kind of like you’re doing right now, coincidentally.”

  “My goodness. That would be quite a coincidence.”

  “I know, right? And we could take a drive maybe, only we’d go over the bumps really slowly because of the ribs.”

  He nodded. “Yes. Slow bumps. Not fast bumps.”

  “Eat diner food, because diner food has been clinically proven to help mend broken bones. Especially onion rings. They’re almost as magical as potato skins.”

  “Onion rings? Wow. You know a lot of stuff.”

  “I do. I really do.” She grinned. “I’m so glad you came, Alan. I mean, I would have been happy with a phone call, but I’m happier to see you.”

  “There are some times when you need a little more than just a phone call. This was one of those times.”

  His gaze had become intense again, but she didn’t turn away. Instead, she let herself drink in the moment, noticing how her heart started to beat faster and her breathing quickened, but how very safe she felt at the same time. He reached out and touched the side of her face, and she burst into giggles.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry . . . it’s just . . .”

  Alan looked exasperated. “You’ve got to know that when a guy goes to kiss a girl, if she starts laughing, it sort of kills the moment.”

  “You were going to kiss me?”

  “Yes, but now you’re laughing. I can’t kiss a laughing person. I’ll . . . I’ll get teeth and stuff.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that now your hands smell like lotion, and it seemed funny at the time, but now you’re not going to kiss me, and so it’s very sad.”

  “My hands do smell like lotion, yes. That’s because I availed myself of this very nice bottle right here that says ‘sample’ on it. That’s what it’s for, right? So people can sample the lotion?”

  “Yes. Of course. You’re right. I’m . . . I’m just kind of nervous.” She’d be honest with him—he’d proven trustworthy with her honesty before.

  “Nervous? Why?”

  “Because I’ve really wanted you to kiss me for the last fifteen hours or so, and the thought of actually doing it . . . I mean, what if you decide you don’t like it? What if I’m a terrible kisser? What if you’re a terrible kisser? Not that I’m saying that’s the case—you actually look like you’d be an amazing kisser. And I mean amazing. It’s myself I’m doubting. What if I’m not up to this challenge? What if—?”

  He reached out and placed one finger on her lips. “I think we’ll work on it together, and it will be a really amazing kiss. There’s just one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Well, when I kiss someone, I like to take them in my arms and pull them in close.”

  That sounded wonderful. “And? What’s the problem?”

  “If I do that right now, it would hurt. A lot. Because of ribs.”

  “Oh, that’s right!” Lindy felt ridiculous for having forgotten. “So, what should we do?”

  “Well, we should definitely kiss, but I won’t pull you in quite as close. Not arms’ length—I’m not going to be that strict—but not as cuddly as I would like under normal circumstances.”

  “You sound like you’ve put some thought into it.”

  “Well, I have, because I’ve wanted to kiss you pretty badly for the last fifteen hours or so, but I’ve had broken ribs for about twelve hours, and I’ve spent some time in the ER with nothing better to do than figuring out how to go about this.”

  “I see.” Lindy nodded, trying to look serious. “I’m going to let you take the lead, since you’ve worked out a system and all.”

  “That’s very kind of you. All right, step one of my plan is for both of us to stand up and face each other.”

  Lindy stood up. “I’m in position.”

  “As am I.” Alan nodded. “Excellent. Step two is taking three steps toward each other.”

  “Wait.” She held up her hand. “Are we each taking three steps, or are we each taking one and a half steps?”

  “Good question.” He looked down at their feet. “Let’s each take one and a half steps and evaluate from there.”

  They moved around until Alan was convinced that they were the proper distance apart. “Now we approach each other gently,” he said. “If we just grabbed each other, that wouldn’t be good, even though grabbing is sometimes fun.”

  “It can be fun,” Lindy replied. “But approaching seems like the kind thing to do. Because of ribs.”

  “Yes.” Alan slid his hand behind her neck. Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers.

  Tingles shot down her arms and to her fingertips, and she reached up and rested her hands very lightly on his chest. He kissed her again, this time coming a bit closer, and she inhaled everything about him—his shampoo, his kindness, the way he stroked her neck with his thumb. All of it went down into her lungs and became part of her.

  He let go and stepped back, and she smiled up into his eyes. “You planned that out very well,” she said. “I believe congratulations are in order.”

  “Thank you. For our second kiss, I plan to put more weight on my right leg, which will take the pressure off my left ribs. It’s a scientific process, you see.”

  She grinned. “I love that you’re already planning our second kiss.”

  “I planned it last night. I told you—I had a lot of time to kill in the ER.”

  Chapter Seven

  Alan couldn’t believe what had become of his life. He had gone from delivering packages to having a date at a pub with a beautiful girl to having his ribs broken in a parking lot, and now he was sitting on Celeste’s bed, leaning up against her headboard, watching soap operas with her. She had insisted that he come up to see her when she found out he was there, and she could tell how tired he was of trying to pretend he felt all right.

  “You just hop up here with me,” she’d said, and after only a second’s hesitation, he’d taken off his shoes and done just that.

  They’d been delighted to discover they were on the same pain pil
l schedule, and they were now halfway through their second soap and just a little bit loopy from the meds.

  “Okay, so. This dude here.” Alan pointed at the screen. “That’s Fernando, who’s in love with Alison.”

  “Right. But she’s in love with Gerritt, who doesn’t know she exists because he’s in love with Samantha.”

  Alan shook his head. “Who’s Samantha in love with?”

  “No one. She’s a sociopath, and they aren’t capable of love. She hasn’t been diagnosed yet, though. Everyone just thinks she’s heartless, and that’s why she took over the Caldwell Corporation and fired all the employees.”

  “But if they knew she was a sociopath, that wouldn’t really help. They’d just have evidence that she’s heartless.”

  “Exactly!” Celeste beamed at him. “You’re catching on quick.”

  Lindy came in the room, a grin on her face. “Oh, look at the two of you, all snug like bugs in a rug. What do you want for lunch? I’m ordering from the diner again.”

  “Again? Are you trying to fatten me up?” Celeste asked.

  “Well, they deliver, and there’s healthy stuff on their menu too.”

  “Hon, going to a diner and eating healthy food is just plain un-American. I’ll take the fish and chips.”

  “So noted.” She turned to Alan. “And you?”

  “I’ll take a burger and some of those magical onion rings.”

  Lindy’s grin grew wider. “Coming right up.” She disappeared down the stairs, and Celeste turned to Alan.

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I really do. She’s incredible.”

  “I thought the two of you would get along.” Celeste paused. “She hasn’t had the easiest life, Alan. She’s spent a lot of time trying to figure out who she is, and now she’s finally got her feet on that path. I know I can trust you to support her in that.”

  “You can. Absolutely.”

  Celeste nodded. “You’re a good boy. Oh, look. Here comes Mr. Forrester. He’s the one who wants to buy the restaurant and convert it into a used car lot.” She pulled her afghan up to her chin. “He’s also secretly in love with Vivian.”

  “Who’s Vivian again?”

  She sighed. “Fernando’s mother. Maybe I should explain it all from the beginning.”

  ***

  Lindy placed the lunch order with the diner, then set about tidying up the counter while she waited for the food. She was surprised and a little flustered when Helen walked in a few minutes later.

  “Hello, Lindy,” she said, clutching her purse in one hand and her coat in the other. “I . . . wanted to come and apologize for what I said last night. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive—I was just . . .” She shook her head. “I wasn’t thinking, that much is obvious. You’re right. No one deserves to be treated that way, and I can’t even tell you how sorry I am.”

  Lindy sighed. She’d wanted to be angry at Helen, but the truth was, Helen came from a generation where the blame typically was placed on the victims, and she probably hadn’t been taught any better. “Thank you. I know you didn’t mean to come across the way you did.”

  Helen nodded. “Celeste told me you knew a girl in high school who had been through something similar. I have to be honest—I haven’t had a lot of experience with this kind of thing, and I guess I don’t know where to start or how to be.”

  Lindy thought back to her conversation with Alan earlier. She’d been terrified to tell him what had happened—she never wanted to go through that kind of rejection and mockery again—but it had felt liberating. It felt like stepping out of the darkness and shining light on something that wasn’t pretty, but wasn’t shameful, either.

  “Celeste is so good to me. She’s spent the last several years trying to protect me, and I love her for that. The truth, though, is that I was that girl in high school. That was my story.”

  “Oh.” Helen blinked. “And now I feel even more ashamed. I’m so sorry, Lindy.”

  Lindy reached out and touched Helen’s arm. “I know you are. Thank you.”

  Helen smiled and left. As Lindy turned her attention to the gift basket display, her mind wandered back over everything that had happened. If Alan hadn’t been there . . . if Alan hadn’t done what he did . . . She smiled. Yes, there were good, good men in the world. Men who made her feel as though it was all right to be a woman. That’s what she’d been looking for. That’s why she developed crushes so easily—she was looking for that kind of man, proving to herself that they hadn’t died out like dinosaurs.

  When the food was delivered, she flipped the lock on the shop door and headed upstairs. One of the best guys she’d ever met was watching soap operas with her aunt. It was time to go join them.

  ***

  “And then you smooth the label down like this,” Lindy said, showing Alan how to roll the lotion bottle with one hand while applying the label with the other.

  “You know, when I said I’d put labels on stuff, I wasn’t expecting it to be such a process,” he said. “I feel like I need two more hands just to do it right.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it.” Lindy smiled. He was trying so hard, and he was being such a good sport. It was hard not to love him for it.

  Um . . . wait. Love him? Like, love him, love him? Or was she just using a common expression to indicate that her feelings of fondness were progressing in a . . . more . . . fond manner? She mentally slapped herself. Silly Lindy. Girls shouldn’t fall in love after one week of meeting a guy. That was irresponsible and ridiculous. It was even ridiculouser . . . yes, ridiculouser . . . to fall for a guy right after he saved your good friend from an attack. It was natural to be impressed by such heroism and to feel attracted to his bravery and courage, but that wasn’t love. That was hormones, which were dangerous and should be outlawed.

  She was wrestling with these complicated thoughts when the door to the shop opened and Dusty walked in.

  “Hey, Lindy,” he said with an easy smile. “Are you ready to go?”

  She blinked. And then she took a step back. “Oh! Um, I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

  “Do you need a second, or should we reschedule?”

  Dusty had put on a dark blue blazer, and he really looked nice. She imagined he’d look nice in a banana costume, though—that’s just how good-looking he was. She glanced over at Alan, who was frowning down at a lotion bottle as he tried to make the label go on the right way. “You know what, Dusty, I’m so glad you asked me, but a lot has happened since then, and I’m going to need to cancel.”

  Dusty followed her glance and smiled. “No problem. I’ll still see you at Celeste’s next appointment?”

  “Yes, and she’s doing her stretches faithfully. She’s saying your name like a swear word while she does them, but she’s being consistent.”

  He laughed. “Good to know. Take care, Lindy.”

  “You too.”

  He left the shop, and Lindy shook her head. She had just canceled a date with Dusty Quinn, the guy she’d dreamed of dating since she’d first laid eyes on him. What was she thinking? Opportunities like that didn’t come along every day. They just didn’t.

  She walked back over to the counter and sat down next to Alan. “Did you get that label figured out?”

  “I did.” He showed her his work, then took her hand. “You had a date for tonight?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I told you I was busy, and we planned to do Italian tomorrow.” She was embarrassed, although she wasn’t quite sure why.

  “If you wanted to go—”

  “No.” She held up her hand. “I’m exactly where I want to be, sitting here and sticking labels on bottles with you. I want to be all kinds of places with you. I hate the dentist, but I bet I’d love the dentist with you.”

  “So, that kiss must have gone over pretty well, huh?”

  “Yes. And you know why? Because it was a kiss with you.”

  “All right, then.” Alan grinned. “Want to show me how to label the bath salt
s?”

  Chapter Eight

  “And so the moral of the story is, yes, Dusty Quinn is an awesomely good-looking amazing guy, but Alan Murray’s even better.”

  Sammi shook her head. “That’s not really a moral, is it? Aren’t morals more like, ‘A stitch in time saves nine’ or something?”

  “That’s more along the lines of a proverb. Not to be confused with the Proverbs in the Bible.” Lindy leaned back in her seat at the diner. Bea, Celeste’s new nurse, was at the apartment giving her a bath, and the shop wasn’t due to open for an hour. Lindy had taken advantage of the opportunity to sneak off for breakfast before the day got crazy.

  “Well, regardless of what it’s called, I think it’s great. Alan’s fantastic, and you made a great choice.”

  “No doubt about it. Actually, that’s a lie. For about thirty seconds, I couldn’t believe I’d just sent Dusty away—I’ve only been in love with him forever. But that thirty seconds passed, and I’m over it now.”

  Sammi laughed. “Glad to hear it. So, about Alan—is he coming over again today?”

  “No, sadly. He called and said he overdid it yesterday. He’s going to stay home to sleep it off.” Lindy jabbed the table with her finger. “I knew he shouldn’t have stayed at the shop so long, but it was the sweetest thing.”

  “Yeah,” Sammi said a little dreamily. “There should be more guys like that in the world.”

  “No, I don’t think so because I’d probably have crushes on all of them.” Lindy took a sip of her orange juice. “It’s kind of hard not to have a crush on a guy like that, though.”

  “Agreed.” Sammi nodded toward the kitchen. “Do you think Alan could give Danny lessons in this whole being-a-man thing?”

  “Is Danny still getting under your skin?”

  “Yeah, he is. And it’s so stupid. I know we’re better off apart from each other, but I still care about him.”

  “You can care about someone and still recognize that they’re not good for you.”

  “Truth. And caring about someone doesn’t mean that you have to be with them.”

  “Truth.” Lindy’s phone buzzed, and she picked it up. It was a text from Bea. “Uh, I gotta go.”