by Ava Miles
During the day, he worked on his songs in his sitting spot in the fields. In the late afternoon, he returned and ate a snack before starting to practice with Hargreaves, who was really quite accomplished to her ears. Beau had confessed he had trouble believing Hargreaves hadn’t played in many years. His technique was too precise.
Afterward, Beau would hold her hand and talk to her about flamenco guitar, everything from strumming patterns called rasgueados and rapid-fire fingerpicking called picados. The hurt he felt over his dead-end search for his father was carved into the harsh lines of his mouth, ones she did her best to tease into a smile.
Quinn hadn’t texted her after she’d sent the NDA directly to Legal, and for that she was relieved. But she knew he would come back to her, and she had to tease herself to smile when she thought of it. She’d invited both Michaela—who was out of touch on a trek—and her mother, who’d talked about coming, to visit, but there were no definite plans. That wasn’t surprising. Her family had a tendency to simply show up, something she normally loved about them. It might be good to have a little warning this time because she and Beau had moved in together, at the urging of Aunt Clara, who’d pulled Caitlyn aside on their shopping trip days ago to tell her to “take up” with Beau in the farmhouse. Uncle Arthur and she were of a continental mind about two consenting adults enjoying time together, after all. Caitlyn might have blushed a touch, delighting her aunt, but she’d appreciated the candor. Making love in the lavender fields was nice every once in a while—and time was ticking on that since the harvest was coming up—but she’d wanted Beau in her bed too, and it had been a joy to wake up with him every morning, the sun rising over the lavender fields outside their window.
She was in love and savoring every aspect about it, from the way their eyes met across the room to the brush of his hand across her back as he walked by. The sex continued to blow her mind—gentle at times, hot and sweaty at others.
She was floating on a cloud, and she knew it was nearing the time when she would need more balance. Ibrahim had been on a creative tear himself, saying he’d struck upon some more of the notes for their perfume. She’d left him alone. These creative types liked their space. When Beau was thinking about a song, she could see it on his face. He was off in another world, one she couldn’t reach. That was okay with her. Songwriting was its own healing balm.
Still, she wanted to share her newfound feelings with someone. Flynn had texted her, asking if she was still being smart, and she’d replied, of course, leaving it at that. Beau might officially be her boyfriend, but she trusted he would be her celebrity spokesperson too. They would find a way to make the personal and the business work.
Her phone rang, and she grinned, seeing the caller.
“Michaela!” she said when she picked up on FaceTime. “I’m so glad you called. Where were you?”
“A quick trip to our goji berry farmers in Ningxia.”
“Like I know where that is.”
“North-Central China,” Michaela said. “You look like a firecracker. I take it things are going well with Beau.”
She wouldn’t mention he’d found his feet these past few days. Sure, he was still wearing his cowboy hat and torn clothes for his mornings in the field with Chou-Chou, but he was also cleaning up and going into the village with her for a later dinner or a walk around town when no one was on the streets. She liked both styles, and he seemed pleased about that.
“I love him, Michaela! And he loves me. It’s like a dream.”
“What? You’re kidding. I knew you liked him. Caitlyn, this is huge! I’m going to have to come and meet him ASAP. The perfume creating session will be a bonus.”
“I was hoping you would,” she said. “I want you to meet Beau. Michaela, I want him to meet everybody. Well, except for Quinn and Connor maybe.”
Her sister snorted. “I understand that. They’re scary. Okay, I just got back and don’t know what time zone I’m in, but I’ll fly over.”
“I asked Mom to come for a perfume session, but she’s not sure when she’ll get away. She said Dad’s helping in her herb garden.” She could have fallen off her chair upon hearing that. “I told Mom I was really happy with Beau but told her not to say anything.”
“Like she won’t tell Dad. Have you told Flynn you’re in love?”
She grimaced. “No, I—”
“Oh, my God, you’re scared to tell Flynn! This is big. Caitlyn, he’s going to be happy for you.”
“He’s concerned about the business/pleasure thing and some of Beau’s changes. I mean, I want him to be happy for me, but…”
“You’re afraid he might not approve?” Michaela asked. “This is interesting. Why not?”
“It’s complicated.”
She pointed her finger at the screen. “Tell me or I’ll call him.”
“Beau wasn’t acting himself then—for a good reason, mind you, but Flynn doesn’t know what’s going on with him. And Beau also hasn’t signed a contract yet for the new perfume. Again, for a good reason.” At least it had seemed like a good reason. With their new relationship, she was trying to tell herself it was still valid.
“Does Quinn know?” she asked.
“Of course not! I got Beau to sign an NDA, but I fibbed a little on the contract side. I’m not happy with myself about that.”
Michaela whistled. “Do you remember how Quinn acted when he found out I hadn’t asked my stupid then-boyfriend to sign a non-compete while interning at Merriam Labs?”
“Yes,” she said, her stomach sinking. “But I understand why you didn’t. You trusted Boyd.” Caitlyn had liked Boyd McClellan a lot while the two were dating seriously. Two years older than Michaela—who’d graduated from high school at sixteen—they’d been in the same Ph.D. program in Food Science at the University of California at Davis.
“And where is Boyd at right now? With our top competitor. That’s a FU if I’ve ever heard one.”
Caitlyn still wasn’t completely clear on the details of the split except that it had been over a grant Boyd had submitted for a super food he and Michaela had agreed to search for together. “You’re telling me I need to get the contract signed.”
“Yes. I know it’s awkward. You have hot sex after wine and pizza and ask, ‘Hey, do you mind making this whole arrangement we’ve talked about legal?’ It’s worse than asking someone to move in with you. I didn’t want to hurl when I asked Boyd that.”
Michaela hadn’t ever lived with another boyfriend, and they’d all thought he was her one and only. Shock had radiated through the family when she’d announced the breakup, the details clinical, much like how her mind worked.
“You’re making me want to hurl now,” Caitlyn said, “but I know you’re right. It’s such bad timing. We’re only just getting to know each other.”
“See if you can give it a few days, a week maybe.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’ll help if I meet him and can vouch for him with Quinn.”
“Like you believe that.” But it was sweet of her to say so.
“Do Uncle Arthur and Aunt Clara like him?” she asked.
“I think so. Uncle Arthur checked him out with someone in Dare Valley, and Aunt Clara has started to knit him a sweater to complement his new look.”
“Wait! That’s what you mean by changes? Tell me more.”
Thank God for a sister who liked fashion. She recounted Beau’s ongoing transformation—although not the reason for it. Beau was still chewing it all over, and he wasn’t ready to go public.
“So what you’re saying is that he’s completely transformed his image,” Michaela said slowly. “Are you sure he’s still the best bet for the perfume? I mean, all your market research was for the country good guy image.”
“And that was the one I pitched to Quinn,” she said. “I know. I’ve had some concerns on that score too. But he’s still Beau Masters, and these new changes have made him more…compelling.” Did her voice crack a little? He was to her, but what about his fans? The world? Her
prospective perfume buyers?
“That’s been your selling point all along.”
Her chest was tight. “Yes, it has. Besides, I think he might end up with a look that combines a little of the old with the new.” Tomorrow he was going back to Colette and her husband’s store with Hargreaves to ask the couple to help him do just that. “This might actually be good for us.” She was going to continue to believe that.
“You’ll know what to do,” Michaela said. “See how things play out.”
“Yes, but I need to make a decision soon.”
“You’ll make the right one,” she said. “Expect me in a couple days. I have a report to write up, and I’m fried.”
“I’ll see you when I see you.” She blew her a kiss. “Thanks, Mickey.”
She growled but returned the air kiss. “You know I hate that. See you soon, Caity girl.”
They hung up, and Caitlyn decided to check on Ibrahim before dinner. They were eating under the portico tonight, and Caitlyn couldn’t wait to see if Beau convinced Hargreaves to join them. He was determined, and Aunt Clara thought his determination adorable, but she’d told him Hargreaves would never cave.
She found Beau in the entryway, his new guitar in his hand. “Hey! How was the lesson?” She didn’t spy Hargreaves anywhere. They usually practiced in the library since Hargreaves loathed the sun, he’d said.
Beau took the stairs and met her halfway, kissing her soundly on the mouth. “Rough, but it’s coming together. Slowly. I mean, I’m still getting used to the buzz in the tone and the speed, but I’m loving it. I’ve discovered so much new music here. First Raï, and now this. Caitlyn, you’ve changed my life. How am I going to repay you for that?”
Sign the contract. God, she couldn’t say that. Love wasn’t about repayment. He’d sign if and when he wanted to finalize their business agreement. He knew it was important to her. Maybe he didn’t want to risk this little pocket they’d formed together, a paradise away from the rest of the world. In his mind, he had signed the NDA.
“You don’t have to do anything, Beau. I’m happy you’re happy.”
“Getting there,” he said. “When I see you, I’ve got no room for rage or questions.” He traced her cheek. “I feel so damn lucky to love you.”
She melted. “Me too.” They kissed more slowly this time, and she angled close, not caring they were on the stairs.
“Where were you going?” he asked against her lips.
She could hear the desire in his words and in the heat of his body. They could go upstairs for a while. “I was going to see Ibrahim, but—”
“Come on, then,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s go see him together. He’s been creatively incubating, but he’ll need some human interaction by now.”
He’d declined to meet them every night for dinner, which she understood. This wasn’t his family, and everyone needed their space. “We can still find some time together before dinner.”
He raised her lips to his mouth, setting his guitar against the wall. “I was hoping for that. It’s good we have other focuses because I’m not sure we’d ever leave the bedroom otherwise.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?” She laughed. “We need a vacation. Alone. When we’re in a good place with our work.”
“Count on it,” he said, and it was the first tangible agreement they’d made about the future, she noted.
They found Ibrahim listening to Maria Callas.
“Ibrahim, that woman sounds like an angel,” Beau said. “Every time I find you in your lab, I hear something that makes my heart sing. Opera, right? I like it.”
“Perhaps you’ll play one of your new songs for us and make our hearts soar,” Ibrahim suggested.
Beau shrugged. “If you like. How’s your work going? I’ve been making music like crazy, so I get the impulse to creative binge.”
“I think I’ve struck upon a few notes for the perfume, but I’m nowhere near finished. Caitlyn, I was hoping to have you smell them for me. Give me your impression. Beau, I’d love yours as well. Mind you, it’s not the final formula, but they are notes that will play together. I like to start from the base and work my way up, like building the foundation of a house.”
She liked the notion of the perfume as a living thing, the notes playing with one another. “Oh, I’m so excited.”
He pulled out a small amber bottle and dipped in two smelling strips. Holding them out, he said, “Wave the strip a few inches from your nose.”
She waved the strip much like she would have waved a princess wand from her childhood and inhaled slowly, taking care to measure her breath so she wouldn’t saturate her olfactory senses. “Oh, that’s yummy. Sorry, Ibrahim. That’s not a very technical description.”
He laughed. “But honest. What do you smell?”
Crap. She dreaded this part. “Lavender.”
“I love how you always guess that,” Ibrahim said.
“Ibrahim, we’re in a lavender field.” She almost rolled her eyes.
“But there is lavender in that sample,” he said. “Beau?”
“Jasmine, I’d say,” he said, waving the strip again. “I’m not clear on the other note, but it reminds me of cologne.”
“Vetiver,” Ibrahim said. “I’ve been thinking about women, the ones who really know themselves. They’re well-rounded people. This perfume can’t be purely floral or musky. That’s too one-sided for a real woman. We want something that reflects all the facets of a woman. Strength. Mystery. Passion. Sensuality. Vulnerability. Caring. Love. I thought vetiver might convey the strength and mystery. It’s known for smelling like newly tilled soil, which includes ground-up wood and leaves and other remnants. The scent also improves as it ages. Like women do in my experience.”
“Like the wine in the bottle improving,” she said. “Got it.”
“I like the idea of newly tilled soil,” Beau said. “It’s an essential part of transformation, I think.”
These two talked like poets when they got together.
“Jasmine always makes me think of passion and sensuality,” Ibrahim continued. “It’s one of the most prized flowers in perfumery, exotic and exquisite. Floral yet spicy and musky too. Every woman’s sensuality is her own, but they are all exquisite.”
She had to force herself not to look at Beau. Until making love with him, she hadn’t understood words like “exotic” and “sensual.” He was helping her uncover that part of herself, and he’d told her she was doing the same for him.
“I’ll want to blend some more notes in,” Ibrahim said, waving the smelling strip under his nose, “but this is part of my chorus, to use a music term.”
She sniffed again. “I like this. A lot.”
He smiled. “I’m glad. Of course, this could all change depending on what I choose next. A little less of this and a little more of that. We’ll see. It’s like substituting words in a chorus, Beau.”
“At least I can cross out words. You have to upend the bottle and start again,” Beau said, laughing.
“Every process has its peculiarities,” Ibrahim said. “I’ll do a little more investigating, but I’ll look forward to seeing you at dinner. Clara came by earlier to press the invitation.”
She was glad he was coming. “I’ll put you two together so you can talk in riddles.”
“Perhaps we can hear your work on the flamenco guitar,” Ibrahim said.
Beau waved a hand. “Oh, that’s not ready for public consumption. Do you know the music well?”
“I have a playlist,” Ibrahim said, laughing. “I listen to it sometimes when dealing with the musks. It’s passionate, powerful music.”
“Yes, it is,” Beau said. “Who knew I had so much passion and power inside me?”
“Anyone who’s seen you sing, I imagine,” Ibrahim said. “You’re only plumbing the depths.”
Caitlyn thought about sneaking out and leaving them alone. Would they notice?
“Speaking of depths,” Ibrahim said, pulling out a drawer
directly behind him. “I have new questions for you both.”
More homework. She was still working on her best answers to his last questions. But she eagerly took the tiny roll of paper when he handed it to her.
“Unroll it after you leave,” he said, his lips twitching. “Oh, we’re doing some fine work here. I’ll see you shortly.”
She knew she was rushing to leave, if only to see the next question. As soon as she reached the hallway, she stopped and unrolled it.
What am I most afraid to say right now?
She veered back. What? Even if she knew, that sounded really scary.
Beau unrolled his scroll and chuckled. “The Perfume Jedi strikes again. I’m beginning to think he should meet Colette. They’re both too wise by far.”
“What does it say? Oh, is that too nosy?”
He put his arm around her as they walked out. “Honey, I’m sharing your bed and kissing and touching every inch of you. I think we’re beyond nosy.”
That reminded her of the “nap” they needed to get in before dinnertime. She increased her pace, pulling him along. “So what does it say?”
He handed it to her, and she unrolled it.
What have I waited my whole life to say?
“Wow! How do you answer something like that?” she asked, making him laugh.
“The crazy thing is that I think I’m getting pretty close,” he said. “Come on, I’ll race you back to the house.”
“Is it terrible that I hope we won’t run into my aunt and uncle just now?” she asked, running beside him.
“No,” he answered. “I’m thinking about carrying you up the stairs like Prince Charming. I thought you might like that.”
She considered it. “I would actually.”
“See, I’m getting to know you. Every part of you.”
When he lifted her into his arms, she looked into those blue-gray eyes of his, awash in love. So much had changed in both of their lives since that first powerful meeting at his office. What was she most afraid to say right now?
When you get to know all of me, don’t stop loving me, Beau.