Page 41 of Harbor Me

The whole room smells like her. Clean and warm and spicy-sweet. Like autumn. I could pick her out of a roomful of people. I'm standing in her office letting it wreck me instead of walking out. This is exactly why she shouldn’t be staying.

I finally stop being an idiot and go back to work.

Vanessa pulls in at her usual time. The little grinding noise that used to be there when she turned the car off is gone. The difference when she started it would have been even more noticeable. She sits in the cab for a few seconds, head tilted. Then her door shuts and her new boots hit the gravel. It’ll take a few weeks to break these in again. Hopefully she doesn’t go for another dip in the ocean.

I put my head in the outboard and pretend to be busy.

"Aiden."

She's in the workshop doorway. Hair up, displaying the gentle curve of her neck, and I can practically taste her creamy skin on my tongue.

"What."

"My truck sounds different."

"Starter was going bad."

"I know. I was going to take it to the mechanic next Saturday-"

"Now you don’t have to. It's done."

She's quiet a moment. Then, carefully, "When did you do it? It’s been at my apartment all weekend."

"This morning."

"You came to my place and fixed my car before work?"

"I always get up early. The grinding was working on my nerves, didn’t want to spend another day having my ears assaulted. It’s nothing." She watches me. I don't look away, because looking away would mean something, and this doesn't mean anything. A starter was being noisy. Now it's not.

"Thank you."

"For what?" I reach for the ring compressor. "I did it for myself. It was distracting."

“And that’s the only reason you did it? The sound bothered you?”

For a moment I don’t understand why her voice is so small, then it dawns on me. She thinks I fixed it so I can send her on her merry way. I wish I could. But I’m weak.

“I’m sure you have work to do,” I grunt, turning back to the outboard. I listen to her slow steps heading toward the office and breathe a sigh of relief. It’s easier to think when she’s not standing so close, smelling like something I want to eat.

Images of her spread open in front of me, inviting me to feast to my heart’s content, try to form, but I squash them violently. There will be no sexual interludes. She’s an employee, nothing more.

Less than five minutes go by before the office door slams open and she comes hurrying back.

"The payroll sheet," she says, sounding breathless. "You crossed out the deduction."

“There’s no need to keep paying the agency when you’re not on trial anymore.”

She goes still. Eyes dropping to the floor and hands opening and closing nervously. She doesn't look up right away, and when she does her eyes are wet and wide and I realize she’s assuming I’m firing her.

"You're staying." It comes out sounding like an order. It is one.

"Okay." Her voice is barely there. "Okay. Thank you."

“Stop thanking me for things that aren’t favors. You’re good at your job. That’s the only reason I’m keeping you on. Speaking of your job, you should get back to doing it.”

I’ve already turned my back on her when she says my name.

"Aiden."