He cracked a feral smile. “Interesting.”
“Why?”
He played with the arrow in his ear and shrugged. “I suppose you must love her.”
I couldn't tell if he was sincere or condescending. “Don’t you love your family?”
He twisted away with a harsh laugh. “Let’s save those questions for therapy. Anyway, if you’re looking for a job lead, a reference, or even a bit of distraction, hit me up. I'm sure I could find you something.” He winked, and the easy way he flirted tightened my insides like a bowstring.
“Thanks,” I said. Although I wasn’t sure why he’d bother helping me. Maybe he just wanted to pay me back for sharing my notes in med school. But I couldn’t count on it. “Good luck with your loved one,” I said.
He pushed himself off the perfume display. “Good luck with your sister. And extra luck with the underwear.”
At this point, I’d probably need it. I sighed as he finally began to leave. So much for my first sale.
The aroma of vanilla meringue filled my lungs. I sniffed my wrist and fingertips, trying to figure out which perfume that’d been.
Testing all the bottles to find the right match would give me a headache. I called to Angel. “Hey, which one did you spray on my neck?”
He hesitated. “Why? Do you like it?”
I shrugged and gave him a bashful smile. “Everyone likes cake.”
It was one of the only reasons my sisters would go to each other’s birthday parties after a certain age.
He chuckled and hung his head.
What was funny about that?
He rubbed his face, then plucked a pale pink box from the display. “It was this.”
“Thanks.” I scanned the name inscribed in holographic silver: Secret Valentine.
Huh. I would’ve expected ‘smoldering evening’ or ‘divine dawn’ to be in line with The Closette’s brand. But this was nice.
“I guess I’ll take it,” he said, tidying the display.
I looked around for a clue as to what he meant. “You’ll take what?”
“The perfume. ‘Everyone likes cake,’” he quoted.
“Oh yeah.” I beamed, still not sure how I’d convinced him to buy it. “Anything else?”
“Not today,” he said, his lashes downcast.
I rung him up, then rubbed the box on our sensor pad so it wouldn’t set off the alarm when he left.
My first sale. So exciting!
I packed the bag with extra tissue paper to cushion the bottle, even if the box had some built-in protections. This was a special gift for a loved one. Did we have ribbon in the desk?
Angel sighed and surveyed the front of the store.
Maybe he wanted to get out of here even more than I’d love to see him go. No ribbon today.
“Do you need a gift receipt?” I asked.
“No,” he said, oddly droll.
