“That’s not part of the artistic vision.”
“Well, this artistic vision was a rerun. Either ditch the lofty standards or be happy with a duplicate.”
“You’re right. Let’s do it your way.”
They worked silently for a few minutes, exchanging and rearranging items.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ashley asked at last.
Ashley was a sweetheart, but Eden wouldn’t unburden herself to the free-spirited nineteen-year-old even though she probably knew more about sex than Eden, and she was six years younger. Ashley’s advice was bound to be something wild and fantastical, like have a red-hot one-night stand with a handsome stranger she found on a hook-up app.
Well, she’d tried that, hadn’t she? Her one miserable attempt at connecting with her femininity had ended in terrible failure when Josh Cameron—a guy she’d met on Tinder—had been so repulsed by her burns he’d fled her apartment.
That reaction didn’t do a lot for a woman’s self-esteem.
Eden clenched a red satin bow in her hand and sank her top front teeth into her bottom lip, trying to dispel the memory of her single pathetic attempt at sex after she’d been burned. In the wake of Josh’s reaction, she’d been too afraid to try again.
“Do you wanna know why I think you’re so frazzled?” Ashley asked.
“Not really.”
“You need to booty call.”
“Ashley!”
“Don’t go prude on me, that’s a man-shaped vibrator you’re holding. Seriously, that’s why your baskets have been blah lately. You need divine inspiration.”
“Thanks for your opinion. I’ll take it under consideration.”
“I know a spray-paint artist who specializes in nudes. I think you two would really hit it off. He’s hot.”
“I can find my own dates, thank you.”
“Hmm. I’ve been working here almost ten months and you haven’t hooked up with anyone even once. You spend your time building fantasies and no time living them. Under those conditions, anyone would burn out.”
“I appreciate your concern, but my love life is my personal business. Could we talk about something else, please?”
Ashley shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
At that moment, the wind chimes over the door whispered a resonant woodsy sound and a shapely older woman, wearing the latest designer fashions, stepped over the threshold.
Jayne Lockerbie, her favorite customer.
Eden smiled.
Jayne was one vibrant granny who believed sex should be discussed freely and enjoyed often. She’d been a flower child in the late 1960s and she loved shocking her conservative friends and relatives by gifting them with Eden’s baskets.
“Yo, J. Lo!” Ashley greeted Jayne in a breezy style that Eden envied.
“Hey, Ash, what’s happenin’?” Mrs. Lockerbie grinned.
“Not much. How’s Mr. Lo?”
“Sexy as ever.” The woman winked. “In fact, that’s why I’m here. I need a very special gift basket for our forty-fifth wedding anniversary.”
“No kidding? That’s outstanding. Married forty-five years and still having wild sex.” Ashley giggled.
“Better than ever. There’s nothing sexier than lived experience.” Mrs. Lockerbie turned her attention to Eden. “Now, about that basket. I was thinking maybe some Tarzan and Jane action. What can you create for me that screams king of the jungle?”