by Ava Miles
His cheeks were red, but he let the woman usher him into the changing room. Colette clapped her hands and turned to Caitlyn. “Hopefully he will see what I do.”
When he came out, Caitlyn whistled, mostly to tease him like she would one of her brothers. Beau looked hot and reckless, and she got a little warm in the belly seeing his broad chest and carved arms. His flush deepened.
“It’s hot,” Caitlyn said. “That’s ‘Sometimes Country, Sometimes Confident’ if I ever saw it.” But she couldn’t help but think of what Michaela had said to her on the phone the other day: He’s a sex symbol. Is this the look of a man who makes a woman feel like she matters? Is this the face of your perfume?
He looked like a man you’d want to have sweep you off to bed.
Colette circled him again, yanking on the vest in the back until it was a solid line past the top of his jeans. “The choice is yours, Beau, but I think this is perfect for you.”
He tugged on the ties of the vest. “This is pretty daring.”
She could see the struggle and wanted to be helpful to him, the man she loved. “Do you like it? Sometimes when I really like something or know I need it, I buy it and wait until I’m ready to wear it.”
“Exactement,” Colette said. “If you don’t like it, you can always return it when you come back to France.”
In the deep plum vest, his eyes were more gray than blue, and when they sought hers, she could see the question in them. When would he return to France? When they spoke of love, they talked about wanting forever, but those weren’t details. He lived outside of Nashville in Dare River now, and she lived in New York when she wasn’t traveling. These were practical considerations they would need to discuss.
“Let me change and then you can wrap it up,” he said, heading back to the changing room. “There’s no way I’m wearing that out to dinner. I’ll be arrested.”
“Or given a few euros,” Colette said smartly, making Caitlyn choke out a laugh.
When Beau left to change, Caitlyn and Colette got down to some serious fashion talk until he emerged and paid for the vest.
“Beau, we have some more surprises coming in.” Colette wrapped up the package with care, tying an artful silver ribbon around the box. “When are you leaving to go back home?”
Again, he looked at Caitlyn. “I don’t rightly know.”
She held her breath. His departure was inevitable, and yet, she’d done everything in her power not to think about it. Or the contract he still hadn’t signed. Every day, Ibrahim was coming closer to the final formula for the perfume. She was trusting its completion would lead to the formal legal commitment between them.
“No matter,” Colette said. “We will see you soon, Beau. Give me a couple of days to receive the next shipment. I am making some designers very happy, let me assure you.”
He kissed her cheeks and then turned to Étienne. Caitlyn thought it downright touching how much affection they all shared for each other. She followed suit, and Colette squeezed her warmly when they embraced.
“Hold on to him,” she whispered in Caitlyn’s ear. “He is a wonderful man.”
“I know,” she whispered back. “Thank you.”
After they left, Beau took her hand. “Aren’t they terrific? I’ve never had anyone…consider my style and clothing with as much thought as those two. In some ways, they remind me of Ibrahim.”
She nodded. “There’s an artistry to crafting a good look for someone, something that fits them and their personality.”
“You must see it all the time when you do your fashion stuff,” he said. “Living in New York City, you must be at the very center of it.”
The square was buzzing with people already enjoying a repast of snacks and champagne. A few glasses of cloudy pastis could be seen, mostly in front of well-dressed men. “The biggest difference from here to New York is how much people wear black. It sometimes drives me crazy. Other times I’m amazed how many clothing variations come in one color.”
He smiled as they walked by an older couple, arms linked, looking like they’d been married sixty years. “Do you really think I could pull off the vest?”
She squeezed his arm, keeping her smile to herself. “Yes. That’s a concert I’d love to see.”
Again, the future loomed before them, but she’d purposely mentioned it, wanting him to know how she felt. He stopped and kissed her lightly, right on the street, one of his favorite things about France, he’d said many times. People were so much freer with their affection here. “I have a place backstage with your name on it, just say the word. Woman, I love you to pieces.”
Her heart seemed to radiate in her chest. “I love you too,” she said, and they shared a deeper kiss.
Breaking apart, they wandered around two more corners until they reached another restaurant Colette had recommended to Beau. After the hostess seated them, Caitlyn watched Beau pick up the menu with none of his earlier hesitation. He’d asked her how to say a few simple phrases in French, telling her he wanted to be able to treat her nicely. It made her feel like her vision for her perfume: that she mattered. When their server appeared, he ordered them deux coupes de champagne.
“Is that Beau Masters?” someone asked, loud enough to carry across the array of outside tables.
She turned her head, catching sight of a young American couple. The blond-haired woman in the paisley summer dress popped up from her table and rushed over to them. Caitlyn could almost hear Beau’s wince, and she pasted a smile on her own face as the woman appeared at their table. She’d sat through moments like this with enough celebrities to know how to comport herself.
“Beau Masters, right?” The blond woman was clutching her phone in her hand, breathing hard, whether from nerves or her flight to their table, Caitlyn didn’t know. Would he lie and say he was someone else, she wondered? Heck, if it were her, she’d be tempted to do just that. She couldn’t imagine having her dinner interrupted or being stopped on the street. Then again, her career didn’t depend on her being in the public eye.
“Funny you could guess that,” Beau said, his smile a touch guarded. “What with this being France and all.”
“Oh, I heard your voice,” she said, “as my husband and I were walking to the restaurant. We were behind you. I thought it was you, but my husband said you were dressed all wrong. I’m the one who noticed your cowboy boots.”
“Done in by cowboy boots,” he said in his drawl. “Who would have thunk it?”
“Could I have a picture with you, Beau? I’m your biggest fan.”
He looked at Caitlyn for a moment as if he were deciding something. “If you duck down next to me, ma’am, I’ll have my lady friend take it. I’d stand, but I don’t want to interrupt the other patrons’ dinners. You understand.”
“Oh, that’s… Yes! Can my husband join us? He loves your music too. I mean, ‘Country Boy Going Home’ makes both of us tear up. He’d never admit it though.”
“Thank you,” Beau said. “If he can crouch down too. Again, I don’t want to bother our fellow patrons here.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, rushing off, nearly colliding with a waiter.
“Sorry about this,” Beau said. “I should have left my cowboy boots at home.”
“She caught your voice too,” Caitlyn said, smiling as the waiter returned with their champagne.
Sure enough, the young couple rushed over, and because the tables were close together, the trio was squeezed into the space where Beau was sitting. Caitlyn caught the disgruntled looks of the other patrons and almost rolled her eyes when the blond woman asked her to take another picture, not liking how her hair was flying up in the breeze.
“Last one is always the best,” Beau said as Caitlyn took another photo, his smile noticeably forced now.
When she handed the phone back to the woman, he said, “Thanks again for enjoying my music. Y’all have a good dinner.”
“You too,” the man said, holding his hand out for a handshake. “Beau Masters
in freaking Provence. No one back home is going to believe it. I mean, I wouldn’t recognize you. You sure do look different here. Makes me wonder…”
It hadn’t been meant as a compliment, and Caitlyn took an instant dislike to the guy.
“Goodnight, folks,” Beau said simply, holding up his hand. “Sorry, everybody.” He looked around at the patrons who were staring at them. “Should we go?” he whispered to her.
“No,” she said, picking up her champagne. “You took care of that. Now we’re going to have fun.”
“Again, I’m sorry.” He extended his champagne. “To my new look and to Colette and Étienne. I don’t care what that guy thinks. I like it.”
So the barb had struck true. “And the vest. That’s my favorite so far after your velvet jackets.”
“You do like to rub against them like a cat might,” he said. “That’s why I like them too.”
She laughed. “Wait until I show you what I want to do to you when you’re wearing that vest.” Her saucy smile had his brows lifting.
“Are you sure we still need to stay for dinner?” His drawl was downright naughty, and she loved it. She was pretty sure Old Beau, as he referred to him, wouldn’t have flirted like that.
“You’ll be starving the minute we get back home,” she said, “and besides, I’m starving right now.”
“Of course,” he said, sipping his champagne. “We’ll eat fast then. Oh, wait. It’s not possible. This is France.”
“You’re learning,” she teased, opening her menu, but she was aware of the couple behind them. The feeling of being watched wasn’t pleasant.
“My little anonymous bubble has disappeared, hasn’t it?”
When she lowered her menu, he was gazing at her with an outstretched hand. She reached across and clasped it. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
“Let them look,” he said, kissing her hand again. “We have nothing to be ashamed of. Just two people in love having a romantic dinner out.”
Yes, they were.
Chapter 23
Clara was glad she wasn’t sipping her crémant when Michaela came through the dining room doorway with Shawn.
Her brother zeroed in on her right away, and there wasn’t a smile on his handsome face. They’d both gotten older during their estrangement, and it was still a shock to see his thick hair gray and the lines around his blue eyes. Clara hoped for his sake they were laugh lines. She hadn’t laughed in the decades they’d been estranged, and that was on her. But he’d married a wonderful woman in Assumpta and had seven children she was quickly growing to love.
“Surprise!” Michaela called, holding out her hands. “Dad heard from Mom that I was coming this way, and he decided to jump on the plane with me after I met with Connor about biz stuff. Right, Dad? We even diverted going to Paris to get here right away.”
Likely because Shawn hated shopping. Poor girl.
Her brother nodded, serious as an oak tree, in gray slacks, a white shirt, and tan jacket. Before retirement, he’d always opted for a three-piece suit. “I thought I’d see how Caitlyn’s new enterprise was coming along. Assumpta decided to stay behind and enjoy having the house to herself.”
Clara caught Michaela’s eye roll. Yeah, she didn’t buy that either. Had Assumpta purposefully stayed back because she thought Shawn should come on his own?
Ibrahim rose from his seat, and Arthur, dear man, took her by the arm and helped her up, giving her a comforting squeeze.
“Welcome,” Ibrahim said, coming around the table to shake Shawn’s hand. “I’m Ibrahim Magdy, the perfumer. It’s been wonderful working with your daughter. Caitlyn has a powerful vision for the world in her perfume and an even greater heart.”
“Shawn Merriam,” her brother said, clasping Ibrahim’s hand. “This is our other daughter, Dr. Michaela Merriam.”
Michaela made a face. “Dad, I hate it when you introduce me as a doctor. Hi, Ibrahim. Caitlyn has been telling me so much about you. I can’t wait to talk about the plants your scents come from. I’m a plant fanatic.”
“Caitlyn tells me you travel to interesting parts of the world looking for rare plants for the health and beauty lines in Merriam Enterprises. I believe your specialty is super foods.”
“Yes,” she said, hugging Ibrahim briefly. “I can’t help myself. Caitlyn says you’re totally cool. The Perfume Jedi. It’s an honor. Oh, this is so exciting.”
Ibrahim’s pencil-thin smile radiated out of his regal bearing. “Your zest for life is a trait you share with your sister, no doubt, and as refreshing as the most fragrant jasmine.”
“Flower compliments slay me.” She put her hand over her heart. “Jasmine is the crown jewel of flowers for perfume—even though it’s a genus from the olive tree family, something I’ve always found fascinating. Did you know it takes eight thousand flowers to make just one gram of essential oil? Sorry we interrupted your dinner. Hey! Where are Caitlyn and Beau? Oh, Aunt Clara. Uncle Arthur. I’m so out of it I forgot to say hello to you.”
The young woman flew over to where Clara was standing. She threw her arms around her, hugging her warmly, and whispered, “I’m so sorry about Dad! Mom totally set this up. I had no idea he was coming until last minute. He told me to keep it a surprise.”
“Did he think I was going to flee?” she whispered back.
“God knows with Dad!” She finally released Clara and then turned to Arthur. “Oh, come here, you wonderful man.”
“You’re high as a kite,” Arthur growled, but lovingly patted Michaela’s long, curly brown hair. “Did you sniff glue on the airplane ride over?”
Michaela laughed. “Airplane fuel. I love that smell. Just kidding. Come over here, Dad. You’re lurking like a ghoul.”
Shawn’s brow rose at being called out by his daughter, something Clara used to do when he was a boy, but he crossed to the table where they were standing. “Hello, Clara. Arthur. It’s good to see you both.”
She looked into his eyes. Did he mean it? “It’s good to see you, Shawn,” Clara said, years of breeding kicking in. “Did you have a pleasant flight?”
“Good God, they flew on a private plane, Clara,” Arthur said. “Of course it was pleasant. Now, I’m about to put my nose into something, and I don’t do it lightly. I’m going to take Michaela here to the kitchen and find her something to drink. Ibrahim, I expect you’ll follow suit. You two say whatever you need to say and get it over with.”
“Arthur!” She socked him.
“No, Clara, Shawn came here knowing you would be here, and I’m not going to dance around it. You’re sorry, and you’ve missed him. If he’s the man I think he is, he’s going to admit his feelings. This farmhouse might have six bedrooms, but it’s not big enough for you to two avoid each other. No one wants to walk on eggshells, and Shawn, I expect you to do your part with your sister, who loves you. Understand me?”
He kissed her sweetly on the cheek, looking at her with eyes full of love, then took Michaela’s hand and left. Ibrahim gave Clara an encouraging smile before following them out. Silence radiated, making her aware of her body shaking with nerves. She looked at Shawn and noticed his mouth was still parted.
“Arthur does have a way, doesn’t he?” She grabbed the back of the chair beside her. “Would you like to sit down a moment?”
He pulled her chair out, which made her heart lodge in her throat. She hadn’t expected the kindness, and tears filled her eyes as he sat beside her.
“Oh, Shawn, I’m so sorry for everything. I was such a stubborn, stupid woman. Worse, I married probably the most worthless man on the planet. You can’t know how deeply I regret his actions and my own, and then I got so mad at you for not…” Her voice broke. She finally understood Caitlyn’s vision for the perfume. She hadn’t felt like she mattered to her own brother at that time.
He turned his chair until he faced her, his head bowed. “I’m sorry too. Assumpta has told me, more than once, that I was a total fool for letting so many years
pass without reaching out. She finally had enough of it—like Arthur, it seems. I suppose I needed a push after all these years. Clara, I know Reinhold was a jerk. I knew it the moment I met him. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, and I’m even sorrier I let him come between us all these years. Hearing J.T. had reached out to you—and that you helped him despite our differences—moved me…greatly. And I know how much you helped Trevor and Becca. You’ll never know how much it meant to me, and Assumpta too.”
“I love them, Shawn.” She wiped a tear trailing down her face. “They’re the most beautiful… I told Assumpta in Ireland you both did a bang-up job raising them. I wish… I wish I’d been around when they were younger, but I plan on making up for lost time. With them, and with Arthur…” She finally had the courage to look him in the eye again, and she didn’t care that she was crying like a total ninny. “I feel like I have a second chance at life and family, and I’m not going to spoil it. I promise you… You don’t ever need to worry about me being around them. If that’s why you came here.”
He patted her back. “Is that why you thought I’d come? Clara, I wanted to see you. Oh, dammit! It’s hard to admit this, but I’ve been afraid to face you. Clara, you were right to be angry with me. I was angry with myself over how I treated you. But I couldn’t let Reinhold into Merriam Enterprises.”
Her tears were abating, thank God. “I knew that, but I didn’t feel I had a choice. A wife is supposed to support her husband, or so I thought. I was newly married and desperate to make our marriage work. I thought…working with you at our family’s company might…help Reinhold.”
“Oh, Christ, Clara,” Shawn said, shaking his head. “I didn’t know that.”
She used the napkin to wipe her nose. “It wouldn’t have worked. Like the Irish say, you can’t put lipstick on a pig, and you certainly couldn’t have made Reinhold be less of a jackass. Still, I’m sorry we’ve gone all these years mad at each other. I’d hoped you’d reach out.”
He sighed and patted her hand again. “I’d hoped that too. We Merriams can be stubborn. Assumpta tells me that all the time.”