Page 8 of Love in Bloom

She nodded. “I suppose that means we’ll be keeping in touch?”

“Of course.”

Pleased with the idea of continued contact with Tristan, Camille pocketed her phone, and Tristan snapped the obligatory picture with his. A few taps on the phone, and he held it up for her to see.

“Look, I’ve created an album just for you.”

There was the iris in an album labeled Camille.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

The seller stepped toward them. He was a spindly man with a large mustache. “Would you like to buy a flower?”

At least that’s what Camille thought he said. Her French was long past rusty. “What kind?” she asked in mangled French.

“Stylized iris,” he answered in English.

“It’s beautiful.” Camille allowed the silky velvet petal to pass through her fingers again.

“Six, s’il vous plaît.” Tristan paid the seller, then handed Camille the bundle of wrapped flowers. “I’m sure the hotel can track down a vase for you to keep them in your room.”

Camille buried her nose in the petals and inhaled. “They’re wonderful. Thank you.” She smiled at him.

He lightly brushed a finger across the tip of her nose and held it up for her to see. “You’re dusted with pollen.”

A light heat spread up her neck. Her nose tingled from where Tristan touched her. She wanted to rub the spot to see if her skin there felt different but didn’t want to offend him.

He crooked his elbow at her, and she slid her hand into the curve. They wandered through the market, admiring wares and taste testing the food. Tristan bought strawberries for them to share, and Camille couldn’t resist a flowing skirt in pale pink. Maddie’s influence must’ve rubbed off on her. Connor’s wife adored skirts and wore them almost daily. Camille wondered how Maddie was getting on at Lakr in her consulting position. She reached into her bag and fingered the phone, itching to send a text.

“What’re you thinking?” Tristan eyed her hand stuffed in her bag.

“Oh, I wanted to send a text to my almost-sister-in-law and see how she’s getting on at Lakr.”

“Your company?”

“Yes. We brought her on as a consultant. She’s a fabulous makeup artist.”

“How is she your almost-sister-in-law?” He discarded the leaves off a strawberry and popped the fruit into his mouth.

Camille stared at his lips as a dribble of berry juice leaked out from the corner. She swiped the juice off with her finger. Why had she done that? She felt warmth creep into her cheeks again.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever met my cousin, Connor. He helped me build Lakr. He runs all the financial stuff. He’s a whiz with numbers. We grew up together. He’s more like my brother than my cousin. Anyway, he married this American makeup artist recently. I adore her. It’s like gaining another sister and friend.”

“I don’t know that I met your cousin, but don’t you have a younger sister? Clarisse?”

“Clara. We’re what they call Irish twins, but she’s so quiet and reserved, I always think of her as much younger than me. Oh, look at that Gerber.” Camille raced over to the largest daisy she’d ever seen. “It’s practically sunflower size. How do they grow them that large?” She inhaled the scent. “This would be marvelous in a lip gloss or a blush. I love when I find a flower that is both right in color and scent, don’t you?”

Tristan chuckled. “I don’t think you’ve ever found a flower you didn’t like, Camille.”

“Actually, you’re wrong. I can’t abide the smell of Titan Arum. I doubt anyone can. It’s a huge flower, though you would never want to make anything with it. The smell is ghastly so as to entice carrion-eating bugs to land on it. They have them at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Kew.” She moved on from the flower stand.

Tristan shook his head. “Only you, Camille, would know what the worst-smelling flowers are.”

“You should be grateful none of the florists we’ve seen today stocked Stinking Corpse or Dead Horse Arum lilies. Many of the rancid flowers come from the Pacific region, though a few come from Africa.”

“Perhaps they might be useful medicinally.” Tristan rubbed his chin.

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