Ursula nodded slowly and took another sip of the coffee then smiled. "Bourbon?"
Eloise's cheeky smile was broad. "You keep my favorite bourbon handy for times like this. Call him."
Ursula had and they made up. In fact, Eloise didn't see her friend for forty-eight whole hours as they made up and there was something so deeply beautiful about seeing your best friend be loved well after having been loved not at all.
But that had been the morning she'd wondered about her sense of smell, how astute her nose had become.
And now, there was a softness to what she was sensing and again, it was familiar but her nerves were too jumpy for her to place it. She stepped up to the table and when the man looked up she took one step back. Jen had said he was cute, but this man? He was not cute. Cute was the camp down the dusty road from what this man was, which was extremely handsome.
He had gold hair that was short on the sides and longer on top with a thick and perfect wave that women would spend hundreds of dollars for at a salon. His blue eyes were sharp and clear and his nose, though it could be described as a little large, fit his face perfectly adding to his chiseled looks and slight golden scruff along his jaw.
"Hi," she said pulling out the chair and sitting. "Jen said you were cute, but you should know she undersold you, so you should definitely be miffed with her."
He tilted his head with a slight smirk that looked caught off-guard. "I will have to do that," he said, his voice warm and gentle and if she was not mistaken, a little taken aback.
"So, obviously I'm Eloise."
He nodded slowly, his eyes moving over her face. "Obviously."
He must be the quiet strong sort, she mused.
She wrapped her hands around her pink to-go cup of coffee and looked at her red-painted nails that Ursula had painted while they ate a bag of marshmallows on the couch the night before.
"So, I haven't done this in a while, to be honest."
"What, had coffee with a complete stranger?" he asked with that smirk.
"Definitely that," she laughed. "I mean, dated. How about you?"
A thoughtful look crossed his face as he leaned back. He was wearing a caramel-colored thick flannel that looked both soft and sturdy. "Can't say I'm much of a dater, no."
"No? Why not? You're attractive, in a good job it seems and Jen likes you which is honestly like getting an award as a man."
"Jen Wilson? Cora Acosta's best friend?"
"Yeah," she said tentatively thinking it was an odd question since she was the one who set them up on this blind date. What other Jen would even be relevant here? "Not that she doesn't like men. I mean," she waved a hand through the air, "she doesn't like them that way, but she's not against men. You know what I mean."
His smirk grew. "Sure," he said.
"Anyways," she said as a filler, a transition, hoping this conversation wouldn't be carried by her. She could get along with most people, but people who didn't know how to carry a conversation were not her kind of people. "You're not very loquacious," she observed tilting her head.
He laughed and leaned forward resting his arms on the walnut table between them. "And you are honest and have an excellent vocabulary. Literature degree? Liberal Arts? Or a big reader," he guessed.
"Literature with a focus in creative writing, actually. Well done. And you? Marketing or business?"
He shook his head, his full lips pressing into a thoughtful line. "Nope."
"Really? That's surprising," she said as she brought the coffee to her lips for a sip.
"Is it? Why?"
"Holy crap this is terrible coffee," she sputtered, reaching for a napkin on the table and coughing into it.
He peered into his own cup and nodded. "Yeah, something seemed off about it today, but I know Shellee is out of town for her daughter."
"Ohmygosh it's somehow both burnt and under-roasted, while watery and too acidic," she said popping off the lid and smelling it then sharply pulling her head back at the pungent sour smell as she quickly put the lid back on and pushed it away from her. She was looking at it like it was offending her and he laughed, the deep rumbling sound moving something inside of her. He had a really nice laugh. The kind you wanted to curl up with.
"So, tell me about," she paused and shook her head. "Sorry. I have to get rid of this." The smell of the coffee was too strong and was muddling her senses. "Just," she stood up, picked up the coffee like it was a rotten fruit holding it away from her body with her head twisted out of nostril reach, and dumped it into the slim trash can next to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. She sat back down. "Sorry, strong sense of smell," she explained with a shrug.
