Page 32 of Meet Cute Reboot

“Fine. Geesh. You don’t have to hit.” He pulls the shirt over his head and tugs it to his waist. “You could have closed your eyes.”

“I’m driving,” I say through clenched teeth.

“And I’m preening.”

“Do you even know what that means?”

“It means I’m making myself more attractive.”

“It means you’re cleaning your feathers with your beak.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I know so.”

“I can look it up.”

“Don’t bother. Just—” The smell of Luke’s deodorant hangs heavily in the air, burning my eyes and my nose. I press the buttons to lower all four windows. “It’s a good thing Sarah isn’there,” I holler over the wind and road noise. “She hates musky cologne.”

“Who’s Sarah?” Luke hollers back.

“My personal assistant.” The rushing air massages my face and blows my hair away from my cheeks.

“I thought all women liked musk-scented cologne.”

“Not all of us. Those that do prefer it in reasonable quantities.” I inhale a deep breath of air and then close the windows. The pressure in the cabin leans on my eardrums. I release it with a crackling sound.

“Better?” Luke says into the silence.

“Where am I going?”

“Is the smell better?”

“Marginally. Where do you live?”

I sink into my seat and set my jaw. Luke sighs next to me. We pass a church on the left with an impressive steeple. Afterward, historic homes line the street, buffered from view by palm trees and oak trees that have been trimmed to wind around the low-lying power lines.

This is the part where we don’t talk, where I drive him home, kick him out, and then think of a way to get out of that second date.

Luke clears his throat. “How’s Granny?”

Huh uh. Heck no. Idle conversation isn’t happening. “She’s fine.”

I feel Luke’s eyes on me. He’s waiting for details. I clamp my lips shut.

“How are her knees?”

“They’re fine.”

“I thought they were arthritic.”

“Arthritic knees can be fine.”

We roll by an old, red-bricked corner store that’s advertising cigarettes and cold beer. It looks out of place among the well-kept homes.

“How’s Nana?” Luke tries.

“She’s fine.” I tap my finger on the steering wheel.