Nerves

He spritzed Kenneth Cole’s Black onto his wrist and then rubbed both wrists together before transferring the cologne to his neck. He sniffed the air. Too strong? Would she think he was trying too hard? The scent should mellow out on the drive. He could roll the windows down too, that might help. He looked in the mirror. Skin didn’t look too bad. Crows were relaxing their feet today, not digging in too hard around his forty-year-old eyes. Forty stinkin' years old and dating. Rough stuff. Emily was four years older but looked ten years younger—skin as smooth as milk. Thinking about it made his throat dry.