Page 100 of Mayhem and Minnie

Repeatedly.

One after another, she won’t stop sneezing.

My eyes widen.

I pull over and open the windows to the car.

Her entire face is flushed, and the tip of her nose is bright red.

“You don’t like it.” I release a deep sigh.

“It’s n-not”—sneeze—“that.” Sneeze. “It’s j-just t-too”—sneeze—“strong.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to wear it,” I tell her.

She attempts a smile, or I think she does because her sneezing fit resumes.

I get out of the car and go to open her door, then pull her out so she can inhale the fresh, crisp winter air. She takes mouthfuls of air, all the while scrubbing her nose, making it even redder.

I forget about the cold or the fact that the snow must be six inches around us. Waving my hands in front of her face, I do my best to help get the toxic fumes out of her vicinity.

Goddamn it. Women are supposed to like perfumes. I spent hours scouring the internet for the best sweet fragrance, but I never once considered that she’d be allergic to it.

“I think I’m good,” she murmurs after about ten minutes of sneezing. Her eyes are damp, and a few tears run down her cheeks from too much sneezing.

I press my thumbs to her face to wipe the moisture away. She gazes at me from beneath her lashes, giving me a tentative smile. She sniffles, and more moisture drips out of her nose. My arm is next to her face and my sweater the closest thing to a handkerchief.

I don’t even get to react before she’s using my clothes to blow her nose.

I can only stare at her in shock as shudders rack my body.

“Thank you,” she mentions when she’s done, wiping her nose a couple more times on the material of my sweater. “That was thoughtful of you.”

Then, as if nothing happened, she turns and gets back into the car.

That little heathen…

14

We eventually reach the store.

How I didn’t turn the car around to go back home, shower and change, I don’t know.

I thought about it.

I was one step away from doing it.

But then she looked at me.

And smiled.

I couldn’t screw up again after giving her an allergy fit with that wretched perfume. I’m still mentally cursing myself for my oversight. Perhaps I should have asked her first instead of just buying it because the internet told me so.

I park the car and look around.

The streets are busy.

Even though it’s a small town, it’s the middle of December and people are strutting up and down the street, browsing shops for gifts.

---