The Scent of Rain (16 page)

She paused. She didn't want to be any more indebted to Jesse than she had to be. “Yes,” she said. A taxi was a ride.

Jesse's cell phone rang. “Excuse me a minute.” He glanced at it, then pressed a button. “Hey, Abby. I'm driving; let me put you on speaker.”

“Jesse, do you think you could swing by earlier than five? Spike is already here, and he's rented out the dance studio for us tonight. Can you believe it?”

Daphne liked the sound of her—and her voice sounded remarkably like Sophie's.

“He's so romantic!”

Daphne had to admit, she couldn't imagine a guy named Spike renting out a dance studio. Sometimes people didn't fit their names.

“Where'd he get the money for that?” Jesse sounded just slightly judgmental.

“Jesse! It's none of your business where he got the money. Can you come by earlier or not? Spike wants to get me a new pair of dance shoes before we go.”

“I was already planning to work from home, so yes. I've got one errand to run and then I'll be there.”

“Okay, but hurry!” Abby's voice radiated joy.

Daphne remembered when she used to sound like that. She wondered if she ever would again. “She's in love!” Daphne said.

“Don't remind me.” Jesse rolled his eyes. “Why do women want the bad boys?”

Daphne laughed. “He can't be too bad if he rented out a dance studio. That's all
Dancing with the Stars
, not Kid Rock.”

“He wears a lot of leather and chains. Rides a motorcycle.”

Daphne smiled, imagining the likes of Spike in Jesse's house. “He sounds like a picture. I'm not sure about the bad boy fetish, though. I tend to go for the clean-cut sort who have trouble keeping jobs and other big commitments. Like their wedding day. Then I shoot arrows at a target and pretend it's their faces.” She shrugged. “If I figure out the bad boy thing, I'll let you know.”

Jesse raised a brow. “But that sounds like a bad boy. He just came in sheep's clothing.”

“Then I haven't figured it out yet,” she said.

“This is Highway 48. You'll take this to work.” He paused for a minute. “What are you going to do for a car? You said you had a ride?”

“I, uh, meant a taxi. I figured I'd do that, or find a bus route. That's what I did in Paris.”

“Something tells me that our public transportation isn't quite up to the Metro.”

“Jesse, if we're going to trust each other, you have to trust me to take care of myself and get to work on my own. I'm a big girl.”

He nodded. “Fine. But the last time I left you to yourself, you came back to work with a giant lip.”

She laughed. “I went to find an ear, nose, and throat man. I mistakenly found a Botox man.”

“And you let him do that to you?”

“He said my lip was cockeyed, and I thought, you know . . . maybe Mark had noticed and—”

“Say no more. I get it. Sorry. I tend to baby people.”

“It's nice to be babied,” she said honestly. “But I'll be fine.”

“You must be close to the country club in this house.” He stared at the GPS system on his car and exhaled. “You have no idea how great that is. I can tell Dave you're safely part of Dayton society.”

She smiled. “I thought Mark might show up at the house, but I guess if he's safely in Paris at my job, I don't have to worry. Apparently he and my dad had a disagreement about whose house it is. My dad left a message on my phone not to let him in.”

“That's why you didn't come here. Here I've been pushing you, and it's not safe.”

She waved her hand. “It's fine. My dad left for Europe on business, so he can't be too worried. If Mark did care to fight for his share of the house, it might be epic. He loves a good battle. Though I'm sure there's a mortgage attached to the house, and that will be all mine.”

As they drove into the neighborhood shaded with canopied trees, Jesse stared at her. “Do you always just settle with what you're dealt?”

“I might ask you the same question. If we didn't both take what was handed to us, would either one of us be here right now?”

Daphne couldn't look at Jesse's handsome profile any longer. His presence calmed her like the scent of freshly cut flowers. If only she could truly capture his scent and know who he really was. His warmth and the depth of his own background made her want to succeed at Gibraltar. Not simply as a stepping-stone back to Paris and the fragrance industry where she belonged, but because she wanted good things for Jesse Lightner. He seemed to deserve it.

“This is your street,” Jesse said. “Does it look like you imagined it?”

“It's gorgeous! I wish I could smell that tree!”

“What?” His face contorted, and he opened the window.

“You know. I don't know what kind of tree it is, so I wouldn't know its scent.”

“It's a honey locust. They're everywhere here in Ohio. You'll have to get familiar with the scent. Maybe it will inspire something like Volatility!” He laughed. “How does Honey Locust Mist sound?”

“It sounds very romantic.” She giggled. “Okay, it sounds like a trashy air freshener, but I admire you for trying.”

“Atta girl. Bring me some of that Paris snobbery. That might save Gibraltar yet.” He pulled the car to the high curb and got out. He left the car running while he pulled a branch down and ripped off a twig. It was the second time he'd stopped the car, and she marveled at the gesture. Mark never stopped the car. No matter how she might have needed to stop, he always had an excuse to keep going.

Jesse brought the twig back to the car and handed it to her with a flourish. “My lady.”

She lifted it to her nose, but nothing happened. “Mmm.” She focused on the row of trees at the curb and pointed. “Look at how the houses are set up off the street. It's perfect.” All of the houses seemed old and well maintained. They were two-storied and clapboard on the outside and had a cottage feel to them. “I feel as though I've just entered Mayberry.” She raised her hands in the air. “I can't believe I own my own home! Well, and a mortgage too, but I own my own home, Jesse!”

He grinned. “Tell me how excited you are after you shovel the driveway the first time.”

“I can afford to be independent here. Maybe that's why Mark walked out on me. I didn't need him, but I was too swoony to see it. He did me a favor.” The way she felt around Jesse only highlighted what had been wrong in her relationship with Mark. She'd never felt at ease with him but always as though she had something more to aspire to.

“Swoony, huh? Gibraltar didn't need him either.” Jesse smirked.

“The address is 2250. Oh, Jesse, it's that white one there!” Her mood dropped as he rolled into the cracked asphalt driveway and she got a closer look. “That's it?” She suddenly wanted to shoot her bow. Preferably straight into the house.

The roof was missing a few shingles and bowed slightly in the middle, like a slightly over-loved sofa. The garage stood separate from the house with its door askew. The regular door to the house hung on its hinges in an unnatural way, and she turned her head to get some perspective. She tried to remain upbeat. “I'm sure it has great bones.”

“Yeah. It's the best neighborhood.”

“Is it just me, or is the state of the foundation a bit wonky?”

“I'm sure it's just our perspective. Let's go see it.”

But Daphne was just sitting, staring wide-eyed at the For Sale sign. It had
AS IS
written across it like a bad beauty pageant sash.

“It's like it reads
Miss Congeniality
,” she murmured. Her hands were moving strangely in her lap, as though she was knitting with invisible needles.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh. I knit when I'm nervous. I don't really knit much anymore, but my hands still go into action when I'm nervous.”

He stared at her as though he couldn't believe she could get any stranger.

“I know,” she said. “I'm a knitting, bow shooting, human bloodhound. You were expecting normal?”

Jesse laughed and got out of the car. He came around and opened the car door for her and held out his hand. She felt his touch like an electrical pulse to her system. She looked to him, and he pulled his gaze away immediately.

“It's absolutely the best neighborhood,” he said, sounding like a used-car salesman. “Let's go see these great bones, shall we?”

The change in his tone completely shut down the sense of intimacy they'd established in the car, and to Daphne it felt like a stinging rejection. Suddenly she just wanted to be alone. She'd been stupid to think that she was ready for even a working friendship with a man.

“I've got this,” she said. “I know you have to get home for your sister.” She took the suitcase from Jesse as he yanked it out of the backseat.

“Are you kidding me? I have to see the place. You can't tease me and then leave it to my imagination.”

His voice was so light, she wondered if he had any idea how his kind concern for her dreams and his lighthearted banter confused her. She thought he didn't want her there, but he acted as if he did.

“You don't strike me as a man who's into interior design.”

“Au contraire.”
He grinned. “Did you like that? That's my only French. I'm very interested because you, my newest acquisition at work, have said that you create on emotion. So I have incentive to see what the emotion is within that house.”

She exhaled. “I hadn't thought about that.” It made sense that he was concerned for her as a commodity.

“Daphne, it's a nice house. You should have seen our first place. Oh my, all we had were pilfered milk crates and a hand-me-down couch. You wouldn't want it all done for you, would you?”

“But you got to pick it out. Right?” She needed to look to her heritage again. “I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Wait. As a Greek, should I look a gift horse in the mouth? That's how they got into Troy, right? But if I were
in
the gift horse, then—”

Jesse gazed at her. “Do you have the keys?”

“I'm rambling again.”

He nodded and took the keys from her. He tossed them into the air to catch them again. “I feel like we should have some kind of ceremony. Hey, do you have one of those bottles of Volatility! in your suitcase?”

“In my purse,” she said and rifled through her bag.

“Grab it. Let's spray the doorway.” He shrugged. “You know, like carrying a bride over the threshold. It seems like we should mark your first house with something. You know, scent-wise.”

Her expression dropped. She hadn't needed the reminder that no one would be carrying her across a threshold anytime soon. Perhaps ever.

“I'm sorry. That was insensitive. Hannah always said I failed at Romance 101. I guess she was right, but since I'm your boss, you can't say so.”

She laughed. Somehow that made her feel better. “Mark excelled at it, so take that for what it's worth.” She thought if anyone overheard their strange conversation that day, they would think the two were more than just colleagues.

Jesse peeled off his suit jacket and kicked at the bottom step. Like the roof, the crumbly concrete porch bowed slightly in the middle, worn down by nearly a century of foot traffic.

“You can just leave the suitcases here,” she said at the base of the steps.

“I've got them,” he said, following her up the stairs. The landing wasn't big enough for the two of them. He used the keys she'd given him and opened one of the locks, but one remained stubbornly closed.

“Oops, sorry,” she said. She pulled another key out of a small envelope her father had given her and inserted it into the lock, jiggling it until the doorknob gave way. She felt a hot rush of air, and for the first time since she'd lost her sense of smell, she felt thrilled to be without it. She could only assume that it smelled as bad as it appeared. Air shouldn't, in fact, “appear” at all.

Dirty gray carpet met up with scarlet walls, and judging by the markings, the former owners had loved to perform auto care in their living room.

“Go ahead,” Jesse said, standing on the small stoop contained by a black iron fence. “I'll do the honors.” He took the small cobalt bottle and sprayed the threshold.

“I don't think there's enough of that to go around. In fact, I don't think if I took every bottle I made for the wedding, there'd be enough to go around. I have a bit of a cleaning fetish, and I think that's going to be a problem.”

“You do? A cleaning fetish
and
a bow-and-arrow habit?”

“Well, I didn't know I had a cleaning fetish until this particular moment, but yes, I obviously do, because as I look around I have the increasing desire to smell bleach.”

He maneuvered around her and stepped inside. “Come on in, the water's great.” He took her hand and pulled her in, setting the bottle of cologne on an old mahogany ledge originally made for a telephone.