Page 46 of The Scent of Happiness

“It won’t be ice for long. When the lye hits the water, there’s an exothermic reaction. It heats up fast. You’ll see.”

Theo splashed in way too much water and had to pour the excess into the sink, but he had no way of knowing how much, and when he measured again, he was under weight. He repeated that process twice before Brooke nudged him to the side with her hip. She lifted the heavy jug and dribbled the exact amount of water into the container on the first try.

“I almost had it,” he said. “Fifteen, twenty more tries, it would have been perfect.”

She handed him the dish of lye crystals and stepped out of his way. “Remember, the lye goes into the water, not the other way around. Pour a little at a time. No rushing.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Stir with this.” She held out a plastic spoon.

Her fingers brushed his as he reached for it. Did he imagine it? Or did she touch him on purpose, her hand lingering on his longer than necessary to pass him a spoon? Was she trying to get his attention, even through two layers of gloves? Forget it, he told himself. He was supposed to be making soap, not making moves on his client.

The lye melted the ice and soon the water was steaming. He stirred until it was dissolved. “That was quick.”

Brooke put a larger bowl on the scale, then pulled containers of oil from the shelf. “Now the oils. Coconut gives the soap a big lather, and it’s great for cleaning, but too much can dry your skin. So you need to balance it out with olive oil. You’ll have to melt the coconut oil.”

“Why are we melting things?” Theo watched the steaming lye water with a wary eye. Wasn’t this supposed to be cold process soap?

“You only need to melt the solid oil into liquid form. You can use the microwave.” Brooke pinched her lips together and gave her head a little shake. She clearly wanted to tell him more, but was holding back. She pried the lid off a gallon vat. “You’ll need seven point four ounces.”

The vat held a snowy white paste that smelled like a day at the beach. He scooped some out with a fresh spoon and weighed it. Not enough. Like the water, he had to go back and forth several times before he got the right amount. Brooke tried to help, but he edged her aside with his shoulder. “Patience. I’ve got this.”

A minute in the microwave and it was melted. And he only dribbled a little bit of the olive oil when he tried to pour it from the giant jug.

Brooke silently wiped up the oily spots with a paper towel. “You’re about two ounces under. I can fix that for you.”

“What happened to letting me learn by doing?” Theo didn’t need to see her execute yet another perfect pour.

“You’re doing great,” she said.

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it,” she said. “It’s hard at first. I’ve spent every free minute for the last four years thinking about making soap. Most people never think about it at all.”

“I only think about soap when I run out.”

“God, your showers must be boring.”

“They’re supposed to be boring.” Theo pointed back and forth between the bowl of oil and the container of lye water. “So do we mix them now, or what?”

“Let me check the temperature.” Brooke put her hands on the outside of the lye container, then the outside of the oil bowl.

“Is that accurate?”

“Accurate enough for this recipe. Don’t get me started on a discussion of soaping temperatures or we’ll be here all night.”

“All night, huh?” Theo was hoping for a sarcastic barb, but it sounded more like an awkward attempt at flirting. He was going to have to tamp it down if he was going to get through this.

“Nice try,” Brooke said. “I’m not getting off track. We’re finishing this soap.”

“Please, continue.” That time, he nailed the tone. Dismissive. A little bit arrogant. More attorney talking to client than friend talking to friend. Or—let’s face it—horny man talking to beautiful woman.

But Brooke didn’t seem to notice. She was too interested in the creative process. She picked up one of the cream-colored bars from her countertop. “We could blend the lye with the oils now, adding nothing else, and we’d have success. It would be a lot like this one. Nice soap.”

“Or?” He could guess what was coming next. Even through her goggles and glasses, he could see Brooke eyeing the more colorful bars on the countertop.

“We have an opportunity here,” Brooke said. “Do you want to make it interesting?”