It’s just coffee,” Viola says as she brushes past me to the fridge. The kitchen is small and I’m in the way but I prefer to stay. She brushes past me with the milk and I catch her scent a second time. It’s intoxicating. She finishes with the milk and holds it out to me. “Care to put it back?”

“I don’t normally dig in woman’s fridges,” I reply.

She sighs and brushes past me again as she returns the milk to the fridge and I inhale her scent again. Then she stirs the coffee, leaves the teaspoon on the counter, and picks up one cup. She motions to the...