But Gary persisted. “What did you think when you first saw that FoxPaw Brewing made a sour beer?”
“I thought it was the stupidest thing I ever heard of.”
“But then you tried it.”
“Of course I tried it. It was free.”
“And you liked it.”
“Not at first. At first I thought it was terrible. But then Mike, the owner, made me savor it a little. Hold a sip in my mouth so the flavors could swirl around on my tongue. I don’t know, I guess it kinda grew on me.”
“And now you like it.”
I shrugged, refusing to answer him. It was a stupid point, and I had no intention of helping him think he made it.
“If I remember correctly,” Gary said, “In the grocery store, when you were stalking Janet …”
“When we were stalking Janet,” I interjected.
“When you tricked me into helpingyoustalk Janet,” Gary continued. “You said, and I quote, this happens to be one of my favorites.”
“Beer and wallpaper are two completely different things.”
“Fair enough. The point is, just because two things don’t seem to go together, that doesn’t mean they can’t work.”
I thought Gary was done with the lecture, but apparently he wasn’t quite done galloping around on his high horse. “A Spring flower poking up out of a snowdrift. Sunbeams filtering through the shadows. A majestic mountain, looking high over a storm-tossed ocean. Juxtapositions. That’s the thing I like about painting,” said Gary.
“Okay, Bob Ross, my kitchen will not be your happy little accident.” If Gary was trying to convince me to keep the wallpaper, he had failed miserably. Failed spectacularly. “It would never work.”
“Well then,” Gary said. “I guess I’ll just have to show you.”
Reluctantly, I joined Gary on the other side of the kitchen. We stood next to the wall with no counters or cabinets. Just wallpaper, as far as the eye could see. There were so many flowers and vines it felt like we were in the middle of a meadow, on a mountain in spring. Maybe if we drank enough SourPaw, we could reenact the Sound of Music.
“Look,” Gary’s voice brought me back to the present. “We keep it here.”
“We?”
“On this accent wall.”
I shook my head vigorously. “The green vines clash with the greige.”
“I’ll repaint the walls. Get rid of the greige.”
It was a good thing the vines were only in wallpaper form. Otherwise, I might have used one of them to strangle him. “I already told you. I like the greige.”
Gary kneeled down and pointed to one of the tiny pink roses. “Here, look.”
Against my better judgement, I knelt down beside Gary, our bodies now close. The scent of mint and jasper lingered on his body like a protective shield. Actually, no, not a shield. Shields keep things off. The smell coming from him was the opposite of a shield. A magnet. Meant to pull things close. I had the sudden urge to gorge myself on chocolate mint ice cream between shots of jasper flavored gin.
Gary pointed right at the heart of the flower, which was colored a deep shade of red. “This one. This color here. We blend classic and contemporary.”We again?
Gary stood up and offered me his hand. I took it. He pulled me to my feet. Sparks of electricity seemed to pass from his skin to my skin, then ricochet through my entire body. I must have stood up too quickly, because a rush of warmth raced up through my chest and into my head, then back down my body again, pooling between my legs.
“Come here.” Gary put his hands on my shoulders, taking a position behind me. Gently, he pulled me back until I had a good vantage point to take in the entire room. He leaned close, lips nearly brushing against my ear. “Just picture it.” That smell again. Mint and jasper. “We repaint the walls.”We.“Draw off the colors of the wallpaper to counter balance the grays.”
I tried to envision what Gary was describing, but I found it hard to concentrate. I felt faint. If it wasn’t for Gary’s firm grip on my shoulders, I would have toppled over for sure.
Gary whispered in my ear again, and the warmth that had been gathering in the lower half of my body start bubbling up like a long dormant volcano. “I think it could work.”