Tim is standing at the front door, wearing the same khaki pants and dress shirt that he wore to work, but minus a tie. He holds out his arms, because every time he comes over, we hug at the door. That’s what friends do, right? We hug. It’s not like we greet each other by making out.

“Hey, Brooke,” he says. “Smells great in here.”

“Thanks,” I say, even though it’s not like I was the one who cooked the shrimp.

It does smell good in the entire house though. I could smell it down the hallway. And it’s only when I’m in Tim’s arms that I notice another smell. Something extremely familiar, but not nearly as pleasant as garlic and butter.

It’s sandalwood.

I jerk away from Tim, my nose crinkled in disgust. “Oh my God, what are you wearing?”

Tim’s eyes fly open and he grasps at the collar of his shirt. “What? This is just a cotton dress shirt.”

“No! I mean, that smell!”

“Smell?” He runs a hand along his clean-shaven jaw. “I did shave before I came over, and I put on some aftershave. But—”

The smell of sandalwood has embedded itself in my nostrils. Every time I inhale, I feel the chains of that necklace tightening around my throat. I take a step away from him. “Please go wash it off. Now.”

“But—”

“Now. Please.”

Tim obediently trots off to the bathroom. I hear running water, and he’s in there for quite a few minutes, which I think is a good sign that he is making a serious effort to get all the aftershave off. When he comes out of the bathroom, his skin looks slightly pink.

“Okay,” he says. “I think it’s off.”

I take an experimental breath. I don’t smell it anymore. Thank God. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” He has a deep groove between his eyebrows. “No problem…”

Well, now he thinks I’m out of my mind. I need to explain this to him. Unlike other guys, he’ll get it. “When Shane tried to… you know… he was wearing sandalwood aftershave. The smell of it makes me sick now.”

“Oh!” Tim rubs his jaw. “Jesus, Brooke, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I got that aftershave as a present, but I’m going to throw it away.”

“You don’t have to do that…”

“Obviously I do.” He flashes a lopsided smile. “It’s okay. I hate aftershave anyway.”

I return his smile. “Then why were you wearing it?”

“I don’t know. I was probably trying to impress Josh.”

We stand there in the hallway, staring at each other for a moment, and there’s a sudden jolt of electricity between us. I study his face, wondering if he feels it too. Even when I think Tim is firmly in the friend zone, I wonder if there’s a possibility I’m wrong.