Page 93 of The Scent of Happiness

“You’re assuming a lot, Poppy.”

“I don’t have to assume. It’s right in front of my nose.”

“May I?” Theo took it from her and smelled it for himself.

The rush of scent and memory had an instant effect on him, heating his blood and sending it southward. This soap was blatant, in-your-face sexy. It didn’t matter what name Brooke gave it. There was no hiding behind pretty language or metaphors. This was fuck-me soap.

“Incredible, right?” Poppy asked. “I mean, Lush could never.”

But something was missing. He put his nose into the crook of his elbow and then tried again. The scent before him now didn’t track with his memories of that night. When he’d made this soap with Brooke, it had seemed complete. A glorious achievement. But now?

Now, it seemed one-dimensional. Where was the rest of it?

Oh. Of course.

He gave it back, dropping the bar into Poppy’s outstretched hand with a half shrug.

Poppy mistook his expression. “I hope she can make more for you, because I bought the last one.”

“I won’t need it.” Theo swept up the carnations and the journal. He unzipped his jacket as adrenaline shot through him, heating him and spurring him on. “Can you excuse me? I have to go.”

“Sure.” Poppy gave him a quick hug. “It was good to see you.”

“You too.” Theo thrust the bouquet into her hands. “Take these. Merry Christmas. Happy Thanksgiving. I don’t need them anymore. Thank you. Bye! Thank you.”

He gripped the journal and rushed toward the community center. He plunged through the door, still unsure of what he would say to Brooke or how he would say it, but that didn’t matter. His heart would lead the way.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

At noon, Brooke’s parents were supposed to take over the booth. They were a half hour late, but Brooke forgave them because Dad arrived carrying a large pizza box while Mom held a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies.

“Sorry we’re late.” Mom gave Brooke a one-armed hug. “The parking was madness. And then we ran into Valentina, you know, she lives around the corner from us. I had to say hello, and we chatted about the show and I told her about your booth.”

Dad handed her the pizza. “Then we saw Kimberly and Louis from church and the same thing happened.”

“Everyone comes to this show. I’m just glad you made it. I’m starving.” Brooke opened the box and salivated at the scent of melted cheese and pepperoni.

“Thank you for bringing lunch,” Emma said.

“You know the drill, right?” Brooke asked her parents. “Prices are marked on everything, cash box here, credit card reader there, bags under the table.”

“Certainly,” Mom said. “You girls eat. We’ve got this.”

Dad surveyed the table. “You made all this in a week?”

“And more,” Brooke said proudly. “I already sold out of some things.”

Brooke and Emma retreated to the back wall and tore into the pizza. Emma made happy noises. Brooke passed her a napkin. They both kept an eye on Brooke’s parents, ready to jump in if they got swamped. Brooke was dying to tell them about Dixie and the class at the rec center, but it would have to wait because customers were flooding in.

A young woman approached the booth. She was in black from head to toe, including dyed black hair and thick eyeliner. “I’m looking for Legal Trouble?” she asked. “Do you have any?”

“I beg your pardon?” Mom asked.

“It’s a soap, Mother.” Brooke wiped pizza grease off her hands and stepped forward.

“My friend bought one,” the goth girl said. “She told me she got it here. I want one too.”

“I’m sorry,” Brooke said. “I’m sold out. It was a limited edition.”