“I mean… you smell good. Well, you smell like you always smell… not that I spend a lot of time sniffing you or anything, but… bleh,” she spit her tongue out, restarting. “I haven’t been in your car in a while. Probably not since high school.”
“And it smells?”
“Yup. Definitely a unique, Ryan-esque aroma happening in here.”
“Insightful. And what does the essence of Ryan smell like? Probably a cross between chocolate tater tots and great taste in music?”
“Yeah. And loads of humility.” She bit back her smile and thought of how to describe it. “Did your mom ever make you cookies when you were little?”
Ryan glanced at her then back to the road. “Ummm. No. She wasn’t much of a cook… or a mom for that matter. But my, uh… my grandma would though. Chocolate chip.”
“Oh.” Ginny had only met Ryan’s mom maybe once over the years, but she didn’t know much about her. Just that she wasa single mom and that she wasn’t around much. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine, Gin.” He pinched his lips but offered her a small smile. “She just wasn’t equipped to be my mom. My dad passed away before I could even remember him, and she apparently just wasn’t ever the same. But I never went without. My grandparents were great parents to me.”
“But… they both passed away a few years ago.” Ginny remembered the grief in Georgia’s voice as she’d shared the news of Ryan’s grandmother’s death, and then shortly after, his grandfather’s. Ginny had reached out and fervently prayed for Ryan’s peace, but she hadn’t known then the unique hand they’d had on his life. That they’d raised him and molded him into the man she cared for so deeply.
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Three months between them. Four years ago. You were away at school. I got your card then… and, it meant… a lot. But I’m okay now. Really.” He surprised her, reaching out and giving the hand she’d rested on her knee a squeeze then promptly returning it to a tight grasp on the wheel. “What do cookies have to do with my car smell?”
Ginny sniffled, surprised by the revelation and the new grief she felt on Ryan’s behalf. “Um… Okay.” She pulled her leg up onto the seat and rested it below the other, twisting her body to look at Ryan. “So, sometimes when I was little, Mama would make these perfect oatmeal raisin cookies. They were my absolute favorite, and she’d surprise me with them after school. I’d walk in the door and smell those cookies and, man, I felt like I could melt into the couch and take a cozy nap wrapped in that cookie smell, ya know?”
He smiled. “Oh, yeah. Best feeling.”
Ginny took a breath, pausing. “You… well, you kinda smell like that…”
“Like oatmeal raisin cookies?”
“No, Ryan,youdon’t smell like cookies. Your scent makes me think of… Ugh, this is so embarrassing…”
“Come on,” he egged her on. “Don’t go shy on me now.”
She groaned and put her hands over her face. “It makes me think of a warm nap on a cold day, wrapped up in the fragrance of… home.”
She uncovered her eyes and watched her words wash over him as the streetlights set shadows across his face.
“Oh.”
She sighed, hearing how desperate that must have sounded. “Yeah, oh…” she echoed. “So, basically, you smell yummy.”
Ryan full on belly laughed, filling the air between them with the perfect sound, and making Ginny forget all about any earlier thoughts of cooler weather. She tapped her hands on her legs to keep from fanning her face. “Ya know, I think I should point out that I am perfectly ordinary with everyone but you.”
“I’ve known you for a while now, and I can confidently say, Ginny Remillard, you are anything but ordinary.” He loosened his deathgrip on the wheel, pulled onto Main Street, and slowly crept into a spot outside of the darkened front windows of Good Start.
The doorstep had been framed by haystacks and pumpkins of every shape, color, and size. A festive, fall wreath hung from the door, and Ginny knew beyond the picture perfect entrance, her mama had placed large cinnamon sticks and cloves in canning jars across the entire store, cotton bouquets decorated each table, and during operating hours, the same dangling lights used at Christmastime created the perfect twinkling ambiance, hanging from the old wooden rafters.
On any other day, going home to Good Start would be inviting. But Ginny had no desire to leave the warm, uniquely Ryan-scented, friendship bubble she’d enjoyed over the past few hours to be left alone in her loft upstairs. It wouldn’t make herthink of those fresh-out-of-the-oven oatmeal cookies at all. And, mostly, she worried that if she got out of the car right then, Ryan might forget the ease of the night. How they’d teased and laughed and enjoyed each other, even when it was just the two of them.
“Ry?” She wanted to lighten the mood in the shadow of her very personal overshare. She wanted to hear him laugh again. To keep those laughs all to herself.
“Hmm?” he answered, looking up at the loft windows as if picturing her there.
Ginny thought about picking his brain apart. Asking him real questions and receiving real answers, without hesitation or the fear of him walking away from her. Again. She wanted to be as brave and fearless as she felt in nearly every other facet of her life. To give him thatpushKota suspected Ryan needed. But instead, she asked, “Are you wearin’ novelty socks today?”
He sighed and let his head rest against the seat. “Yeah. They’re…The Officesocks.”
“I loveThe Office,” she said and placed her hand on the handle of the door, readying to leave.
“I know.” He smiled, likely remembering a certain Air Force pilot who most notably didn’t enjoy the show.
