I noticed his tie was off center, just like Grandpa Willy’s always managed to become. I instinctively reached out, gave it a little tug, and then patted his lapels once it was straight. Except the face looking down at me wasn’t wrinkled, kind, and a little bit goofy. There was only iron and heat in Landon’s eyes.
“Force of habit,” I mumbled, taking a step back to get me out of his personal space. “Don’t go getting a boner about it, weirdo.”
He said nothing, but I could feel his eyes on me for a few more seconds before he continued walking toward the first set of tanks in the aquarium.
It was the middle of the day on a weekday, and apparently, that meant the aquarium was almost completely empty. It was also oddly quiet, except for the occasional bubbling gulp of a tank or the hum of pumping equipment.
“It’s freezing in here,” I said. “You should’ve warned me to bring a jacket.
Landon slid his suit jacket off and offered it to me. The inside lining was trimmed in a deep, scarlet color. Somewhat grudgingly, I took the jacket from him and draped it over my shoulders. “Thanks,” I said. “Jesus, why do you smell like that?” I lifted the arm and gave it another, closer sniff. “If I close my eyes, I can see a shirtless guy in black and white… and he’s riding a horse on the beach with a polo stick in his hand—but I don’t even know what a polo stick looks like.”
Landon frowned. He looked uncharacteristically self-conscious, which I guiltily enjoyed. “Is it bad? I just picked it up from the dry cleaner’s this morning, so-”
“No,” I said, sniffing again and then shaking my head in irritation. “I just mean what’s the point? It’s like ice cream tastes and looks good enough as it is. We all know how good it would taste. It doesn’t need to try to lure us in even harder by smelling good. It just looks the way it looks and tastes the way it tastes. But imagine if ice cream filled up a room with a smell like cooking bacon, or something. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“You’re saying I smell too good? And that you know I’d taste good?”
I realized that was exactly what I’d been saying, even though I hadn’t meant to compliment him in the process. “I’m just wondering why you’re trying so hard to seduce me. What cologne is this? Desperation? Aggressive Seduction? Or maybe-”
“I’m not wearing cologne.”
I grabbed his hand and lifted his forearm to my nose, taking a deep sniff. “Oh,” I said. “Your skin just smells like that. Of course, it does. Do they scrape off bits of you and distill it to make cologne, or something?”
He let his arm fall to his side and watched me with raised eyebrows.
“Don’t look so smug,” I said, pushing past him. “I can think you smell good without wanting to jump in your jimmies, okay?”
“Are you capable of making it a full thirty seconds without saying something strange?”
“You looked at the menu, ordered the food, and you want me to apologize because now you decide you don’t like it?”
“What?” Landon asked with clear exasperation in his voice.
“I am what I am, and you asked me to come here with you. So, either deal with it, or stop complaining.”
I expected him to snap back at me, but he said nothing. He just turned his head to look at the fish in front of us.
“What’s with the aquarium visit, anyway?” I asked. “This doesn’t seem like the kind of place I’d picture you going to.”
“And what makes you think you know the first thing about me?” Landon asked. “Because of where I work? Because of my sexual preferences?”
“Yes?”
“And what sort of picture of you would I get using the same criteria? The twenty-something woman who works out of some mysterious apartment building?”
“It’s not mysterious,” I said. “It’s a blog. I write articles for her.” I shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “Granted, it’s not a particularly successful one. But some day, I’d like to have my own website, or something.”
“Or something?” Landon asked. “Like those books you talked about writing some day?”
“I mean, I’d take writing books. Writing advertising. Journalism, whatever. There’s something about taking my personality and injecting it into a thought or idea on the page. I don’t know,” I laughed a little at myself. “It sounds dumb when I say it out loud.”
“Not really,” Landon said thoughtfully. “It’s your passion. Never apologize for that.”
I tucked a hair behind my ear. “And what about you? You act like my job is weird. Meanwhile, you’re Mr. BDSM. I mean, what’s wrong with plain old boinking, anyway?”
“Sex, you mean?”
“Yes,” I said. “Sex.” I lowered my voice, as if I was worried about the fish hearing us.