“So, things between you and Beckett are going well now?” she inquired as she wrapped the box with a fancy tissue paper, then tied it up with a bow. She put the soaps in a smaller box with paper and closed it with a wax seal.
“I should say so. We had a very productive meeting just now, but it’s important to hammer out the budget too.”
“Of course,” Isabeau said, straightening up as Celine walked in with my perfume.
“Here it is,” she said.
Even though it was perfectly packaged, I opened it, uncapped the small bottle, and took a sniff.
“Oh, I love it. You two spoiled me for over-the-counter store perfumes forever.”
“Anytime you want a new one,” Isabeau said, “you’re welcome to come right in.”
“Thank you. I’ll give it a thought once I finish this bottle.”
“You do that.”
As I paid, Isabeau handed me the bag with two boxes, and I placed my perfume inside. She and Celine exchanged another glance. Boy, they could be odd.
After leaving Fragrant Delights, I headed straight to my beloved coffee place and opened a spreadsheet. A little over three hours later, after a few other client calls, I’d finished the budget and was ready to go.
I was so damn proud of myself. I was going to knock Beckett’s socks off.
CHAPTER 11
BECKETT
I waslucky that Charlotte fell asleep at five thirty. My life was so bizarre these days. When she was up and in a good mood, she was a joy to be around. But when I couldn’t soothe her, all I wanted was for her to go to sleep. And yet when shewasasleep, all I wanted to do was watch her. Was this the life of every parent, or was I going nuts?
The nanny had started yesterday, and when I arrived home at four, she gave me the rundown of the day. Agatha was the same age as Mom and had been a professional nanny her entire life. So far, I had a good feeling about her.
Charlotte was sleeping in the living room in a small portable bassinet. As long as I kept the white noise going, I could move around the place without waking her up, so I started making dinner.
Cooking was a passion of mine. When I was a teenager, Isabeau and Celine were always at our house when they didn’t have to work a shift. They cooked up a storm while I did my homework at the kitchen island. Which was why I’d stolen most of their recipes. Tonight, I was making Isabeau’s jambalaya.
Halfway through, I realized I’d forgotten an important detail.Damn it. Was it two or three teaspoons of cumin? I could never remember.
With a sigh, I called Isabeau. She was going to try very hard to find out why I was cooking her jambalaya. I only did it when I wanted to make an impression on someone. She was probably still at the store right now, but I knew she wouldn’t turn down a call from me. She answered before the first ring even finished.
“Beckett, good evening.”
“Hi, Isabeau. I’ll be quick because I know you’re still at the store. For the jambalaya, is it two or three teaspoons of cumin?”
“You’re cooking my jambalaya,” she stated.
“Exactly.”
“Hmm, I see.”
“And I’m not telling you who it’s for.”
“I already know. It’s for Piper.”
I nearly dropped the phone onto the counter.
“How do you know that?”
“Not sure if I should share that with you, considering you didn’t even want to tell me it was her in the first place.”
