Page 77 of The Flirt

"Lilac. We’re convinced it's actually a love potion," Celine said. "At least, I've always been convinced of it. My grandmother and my mother used to make their own perfume. At the age of eighteen, they gave me one that had a few drops of lilac. I was married within the year."

My heart stuttered. "That's interesting. I mean, I'm not even sure I want to get married," I said honestly.

Isabeau laughed. "Oh, darling, you might change your mind. And we’d love to throw a wedding.”

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in, and then I felt my eyes widen. I tried to keep a poker face, though, because both of them were watching me intently.

"And then I gave this to my dear Adele when she was young,” Celine said. “She was desperate because no one asked her to prom. I wanted to give her a nudge. She met Remy the next month.”

“And the rest is history, as you know," Isabeau replied, looking at me with a smile on her lips. "So, what do you think? Want it in your perfume?"

That was a trick question. If I said no, it would probably shut the conversation down, but... I really liked it.

"I’d love it."

Chapter Nineteen

Scarlett

I stayed at the shop for another half hour. Isabeau and Celine packed my perfume in a super elegant bottle, tiny and dark green with a gold cap. They assured me that they could make more any time because they had the formula written down.

I would've lingered in the shop for the rest of the day, too, but a group of customers came in, and I didn't want to be in the way. Once I left with my small bag, I ventured down the streets without any goal. They became more alive as the day went on. I crisscrossed the French Quarter without bothering to check my map, taking in all the small boutiques. I preferred exploring like this versus simply speed-walking past everything to reach a certain destination. I only headed home around five o’clock in the afternoon.

I was full of giddy energy when I stepped inside my studio. I looked around, biting my lower lip, then sat down on the pullout couch, closing my eyes for a bit. How could I be so exhausted? Then again, I hadn’t slept that much last night, and today had been full of adventures.

I took my phone out of my back pocket, intending to order something for dinner. No way was I going to cook. My heart somersaulted when I noticed I had some messages. Oh, whoops. They were all from Chad. Ha, guess who was grinning. Yep, me—from ear to ear.

He’d sent the first one after I arrived at the shop.

Chad: I hope the grans aren’t driving you crazy. Let me know if you need rescuing.

And then a second one, one hour later.

Chad: All good? We're having quite a productive day.

He sent me another one just half an hour ago.

Chad: Through the family grapevine, I found out that you survived the day. Call when you can.

I felt bad, but I wasn't used to checking my phone during the day. The pace in the kitchen was too intense. I immediately called Chad, and he answered before the first ring was even over.

"I was starting to get worried."

I winced. "I'm sorry. I don't really look at the phone during the day. It's a work habit."

"Are you still in the Quarter?"

"I'm home. They made me a custom perfume," I said, bursting with pride. That meant I had their seal of approval, right?

Oh, Scarlett, what on earth would you need their approval for? You and Chad spent a delicious night together, nothing more.

"So I've heard. They’re both thrilled."

"We had a lot of fun," I agreed. "The shop has an amazing vibe. I can see myself doing something similar when I retire.”

He chuckled. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, part of being a chef is playing with aromas and making sure everything fits. Making perfumes isn't that far off. It's just way less intensive."

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