I rap my fist gently against the door. Luke’s brown eyes light up when he sees me. Today I have worn a red dress that I located in the back of my closet. Psychological studies have demonstrated that men have more amorous feelings towards women wearing red than any other color. They are more likely to express the desire to take a woman wearing red out on a date, and are also willing to spend more money on the date. Moreover, the men in these studies could not identify the origin of these feelings. They just liked the girl in red.

“Adrienne!” Luke says happily. “What’s going on?”

“Do you have a minute, Luke?”

He looks between me and Dr. Griffith, obviously torn between his promise to help the elderly doctor figure out how to click on a note and wanting to help me. Thankfully, Dr. Griffith takes pity on him and rises unsteadily to his feet.

“No worries, Luke,” Dr. Griffith says. “We can try to figure it out later.”

Luke rises from his seat to face me as Dr. Griffith leaves the room. He looks different today. His sky blue dress shirt has been ironed, and he’s wearing a brown tie, although the knot could be a little tighter. And he’s shaved this morning. Usually, he smells like soap, which is not at all unpleasant, but today I detect a different musky scent. Cologne or aftershave.

“What’s up?” he asks.

I wring my hands together. “I need your help with something.”

His lips curl. “Fair warning—if you need me to teach you the difference between double-clicking and single-clicking, I’m going to lose it.”

My laugh sounds forced to my own ears. I tried my best to look put together this morning even though it was difficult because my sleep has been terrible ever since that video appeared on my phone. It took three layers of makeup to cover the purple circles under my eyes. “No, it’s something else. I… I was hoping you could help me install a home security system.”

He blinks his brown eyes behind his glasses. “What?”

“You mentioned you did it for your mother.” I clear my throat. “So I thought you could help me out.”

He rubs his thumb along his clean-shaven jaw. “Right, but—”

“I’d pay you, of course.”

That’s the wrong thing to say. His face drops. “It’s not that. I don’t need you to pay me. I just think… You’ve got that big house and you’re probably better off hiring a company to do it for you. I mean, I put something together for my mother but she’s just got a tiny little cottage.”