Gavin and Roxanne ✔️

FOUR

When we pull up to my building a few minutes later, my hand hasn't left Roxanne's thigh, though she's since moved hers to the steering wheel. Driving does theoretically require two hands, after all. I capture Roxanne's sights, her smells, her textures in my mind in vivid detail. You know, for posterity. Right, guys?

By now, the rain is falling in sheets. I haven't seen anything like it in my three years living in Portland – it's positively biblical. Even though I've mostly dried off courtesy of those wonderful heated seats, I'm prepared to get soaked all over again making a mad dash for the entrance.

I smile a bit awkwardly – I want to invite Roxanne up to my place, but my nerves are robbing me of the ability to take any initiative. I'm not ready for the night to end, but I guess this is it. "Thanks again for dropping me off," I say. "I enjoyed getting to know you. Have a good night."

Really, McKee? You couldn't come up with anything better than 'have a good night'?

"Don't think you're getting away so easily," Roxanne retorts. "I'm at least walking you to the door." She pauses for a beat, then shoots me her flirty grin and the eyes that go with it.

Those eyes. That voice. And that smell – there it is again. My goodness.

We exit the car and, once we're safely squeezed beneath the umbrella, we hightail it for the door to my building. Well, it's less of a hightailing and more of a brisk jog, given the heels on Roxanne's boots. Fortunately, a portico shelters the entryway, allowing us to catch our collective breath in relative dryness. We share a laugh as well as a sigh of relief.

We stand side-by-side near the entrance for a spell, with the unceasing patter of the rain the only noise. I know what I want to do – what I need to do – next, but it takes a moment for me to summon the courage. But unlike a moment ago as I sat in her car, on the brink of goodbye, I actually find it.

"Thank you again for everything," I begin nonchalantly. "Would it be all right if I invited you up to my place? We could warm up, dry out, maybe have a nightcap." I figure she can have one more drink and still drive safely.

Roxanne cocks her head toward mine; her eyes are nearly silver in the faint light shining outside from the lobby of my building. She smiles with delight. "Of course. That sounds lovely," she whispers, her words floating into the damp evening.

Roxanne and I duck indoors and onto the elevator, which squeaks and groans its way up to the third floor – one of the joys of living in a century-old converted hotel. We enter my modest two-bedroom flat, now officially a bachelor pad – though aside from my week of self-imposed banishment from the world I've managed to keep it neat and tidy. It still feels unsettlingly empty with both Tierney and Duke gone, but it's my safe space, my sanctuary from this crazy world. It's home.

I help Roxanne off with her coat, revealing the black blouse with a scalloped neck and lace sleeves that I'd only glimpsed earlier - it really flatters her youthful curves. She takes a seat and liberates her feet from her boots – and what enticing feet they are. Perfectly shaped, beautifully arched, delicate but not tiny, with pedicured toenails freshly painted in a candy apple shade of red. I haven't thought of myself as a foot guy before, but...

"So what are we having?" Roxanne inquires, and I snap back to attention. "For the nightcap, I mean." I lift my gaze upward from her toes, hoping my fleeting foot fascination wasn't too obvious.

"Oh, right," I stammer, caught off my guard. "Take a look in the cabinet. Anything's fair game." Since Tierney worked briefly as a bartender when she was in graduate school, she and I amassed quite a collection of spirits over the years. She retained her flair for mixology and passed some of it along to me, so we spent many an evening creating whimsical cocktails together. Luckily for me, she took only a few bottles with her when she moved out, leaving me well-stocked enough that I could run a speakeasy out of my living room.