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Cassie had brought a pad of what she called “chart pack” with her – giant pieces of white paper – and we spread them across the table as we worked together on the process map. Basically it was like an extended flow chart of a task from start to finish. We made notes where things seemed to slow down or could potentially be done a different way.

“You forgot the coolant trays there,” I said an hour later, reaching across her to point at a section of paper to her left. “That’s where we cool down the metal to make sure it keeps its shape.”

She nodded and referred to the iPad in her hand. “Oh yeah, got that, I just didn’t write it down, thanks. Good catch.”

I pulled my arm back as she twisted around to add the note to one of the sheets of paper. I stepped forward to watch, and when she turned back around we were standing closer to each other than we had been before. Super close, like only that pad of fancy chart pack paper would fit between her breasts and my chest. We both froze, staring at each other.

This close, I could smell the coconut scent of her shampoo. For the rest of my life, I’d associate coconut with Cassie. Her eyes darted up to mine and I studied the darker blue flecks in the light blue of her eyes.

When she licked her lips, I decided I was going to go for it. I couldn’t live another minute without knowing what she tasted like. And judging by the way she was looking at me, she had the exact same idea.

Moving one hand slowly up to her shoulder, I placed the other one on her waist, like we were fixing to dance or something. Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t pull away. She swayed forward the tiniest bit and every cell in my body rejoiced. Our first kiss. It needed to be perfect. Something we’d remember for the rest of our lives. My heart started pounding with excitement.

And then it all went to hell.

Cassie suddenly recoiled, a look of horror crossing her face. At first, I thought it was a reaction to knowing I was about to kiss her, but then her nose screwed up and she slapped a hand up over the lower part of her face. A second later the most disgusting, foul scent traveled over to me. A scent I unfortunately recognized.

“What is that smell?” she said, stepping back and fanning her hand in front of her face as if to wave away the scent. It wouldn’t help. I knew from experience that the foul odor would permeate that room for at least ten minutes.

“That is Bart,” I said, pointing beneath the table where my gassy little buddy was farting up a storm in his sleep. “He has some...digestive issues.”

She blinked rapidly and stepped farther away from where Bart was sleeping. I hurried over to open up a window to help clear out the smell. As Cassie hurried out of the room, I decided that I was going to kill my dog for ruining our romantic moment.

Cassandra

“Has Bart seen a doctor for his little problem?” I asked as we sat in the back yard eating dinner.

After George’s dog had cleared the room, the moment was ruined. The dining room was now a hazmat zone, and my chance to finally kiss the grumpy machinist that I’d been crushing on had been ruined.

Since we had just been finishing the process mapping anyway, we moved outside to the large deck that ran the entire length of George’s house to work on dinner. I wasn’t surprised to find a giant barbecue grill back here, as well as a picnic table and a pair of Adirondack chairs that faced the woods. It was a beautiful night, warm but not hot, and with the location of the house on a private road outside of town, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

I chatted with him as he grilled up thick juicy burgers for us, as well as some vegetables that he barbecued on skewers. He supplemented our meal with some premade macaroni salad, a bowl full of potato chips, and bottles of icy cold beer. It was simple, but perfect.

“Oh yeah, he’s been to the vet,” George said as he snuck a piece of hamburger to the deck where his basset lay at his feet, staring at him mournfully. Clearly the dog had been starving. “His digestive issues are not nearly as bad when I feed him the special food the vet prescribed.”

I quirked an eyebrow as he handed over another piece of burger to Bart. I’d wondered why George had made so many cheeseburgers when it was just the two of us, and now I understood: he was cooking extra for his dog. It was oddly touching.

A guy who was good with kids and loved animals too? My poor heart couldn’t take it. There had to be something wrong with this guy. Maybe he had bodies buried in the basement or something.

“Cheeseburgers are on his special food list?” I teased.

George looked chagrined.

“This guy’s been with me for twelve years. He’s gettin’ old now and he absolutely hates the special food,” he explained. “I just don’t have it in me to torture him and deprive him of what he likes because of a little bit of gas.”

“You forget that I was there. That was not a little bit of gas, George. I thought I was going to pass out from the stench.”

“You’ll get used to it, the more you come around.”

I felt a flush of pleasure at the idea that I’d come around more, before I remembered that I didn’t live here and likely would not actually come around more. That just made me sad.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that!”

We sat on the deck a little while longer before I worried that maybe I was wearing out my welcome. I mean, I was pretty sure he’d been about to kiss me earlier, but maybe that was just us having a moment. Maybe inviting me for dinner was just him being polite. I mean, it was practically required under the rules of southern hospitality. It could be that George was waiting for me to get out of here so he and his flatulent dog could do whatever it was that they did on a Saturday night.

“I should probably go home,” I said, standing to grab my empty beer bottle. Funny how Josie’s cottage already felt like home. “I do appreciate you having me over though.”

He looked kind of disappointed, so I lightened the mood by adding, “Despite your dog’s horrific digestive problems.”