“Of course.” Albert turns to him.
“Gracie and I would really like to use this image for Eau de Sainte Églantine.” He nods at the painting and explains our idea for the bottle redesign.
“That sounds wonderful,” Albert says approvingly.
“If Étienne doesn’t agree, we could have an artist design something similar,” I add. “But we wondered if the pavilion could be opened back up in time for the launch anyway?”
“There’s a lot to do,” Albert replies, his enthusiasm waning as he scrutinizes the weeds outside the building.
“We can oversee the work,” Jackson assures him. “You just need to give us the nod and we’ll get started.”
“I never intended to let it get like this,” he admits, his expression pained. “I wanted to honor the place that meant a lot to Josie.” He releases a heavy breath and then meets Jackson’s eyes, seeming to rally himself. “I give you the nod,” he says decisively before looking at me. “Let me know what I can do to help.”
“Thank you, Albie,” Jackson says.
“Yes, thank you.” I match Jackson’s sincerity.
He catches my eye and we smile at each other. We do make a good team.
Jackson and Iqueue for ice cream after lunch, leaving Mellie and Albert at the table.
“That went well.” The top of my head barely reaches his chin, but I have a solid view of his square jaw. I’m feeling warm toward him for backing me up—I’m so glad we’re on the same page.
He nods, looking down at me through lowered lashes. “Very well. Now you just need to get Étienne to agree.”
“I know, I know.” I brush him off, averting my gaze.
It irks me that now he’s encouraging me to spend time with Étienne. He’s certainly not acting as though he feels threatened.
To my surprise, at precisely that moment, Étienne walks by on the pavement.
“Étienne!” I shout, darting out of the queue.
He looks over his shoulder and comes to an abrupt stop. As he wanders toward me, his eyes shift to Jackson, but then they meet mine and remain fixed there.
“Salut,”he says in a low drawl, slowly leaning in and kissing me, with purpose, right at the edge of my mouth, before repeating the process on my other side.
My cheeks are aflame as he withdraws, but he doesn’t pull back to a socially acceptable distance. He stays right there, in my space, as I fight the urge to back up.
I guess he’s still game for playing. Good. Jackson needs to be reminded not to take my affections for granted.
“I need to talk to you,” I say quietly.
“What about?” he asks.
He’s so close I can feel the heat radiating off his chest.
“The pavilion,” I whisper.
He recoils, ever so slightly.
“Albert is on board with the idea of renovating it. He remembers your mother.”
Myriad emotions flash across his features, too quickly for me to make sense of them.
“He’s just over there. Let me introduce you.”
His eyes dart to the terrace. He looks almost panicked.
