Devin’s nose itched. The smell he’d recognized on her at the coffee shop wafted from what looked like a homemade cleaning solution in a spray bottle. “Oh thank god.” Relief washed over him. She didn’t smell bad naturally. He hadn’t been able to tell last night when she was shrouded in stale beer and smoke. Alex raised her eyebrows. “…you don’t use Clorox,” Devin supplied, lamely. “I’m very against that brand. Morally. Due to their impact on…fish.”
