Chapter 2
Chapter two
Perfume
Angel led me to the perfume display with its mirrored tabletop and glistening bottles. “I’m in the market for some perfume, pidge. Let’s try this one on your wrist,” he said, lifting my knuckles almost as if he intended to kiss them.
I yanked my hand back and clutched my fist over my racing heart. “Why can’t you wear it?”
“I'm already wearing cologne.” He opened his arms, inviting me to bask in his aroma.
That’d be a bad idea. Best to keep my distance lest he think I liked him.
“We could spray it in the air. Or on a strip of paper,” I said, gesturing to our sample kits.
“The scent would change based on body chemistry. Remember Bio-Chem? I need this on a woman,” he said.
The suggestion pinched my brain and my gut. Technically, he was right. And here I thought he’d slept through half his classes.
“It might smell different on your girlfriend,” I mumbled, rolling up my sleeves.
“Who said I have a girlfriend?” He gently clasped the underside of my upturned hand, the fine hairs on my body prickling to attention.
He didn’t have a girlfriend?
I furrowed my brow. “Who’s this for, then?”
“Someone I love,” he said easily.
That sounded serious. I held my tongue against the urge to find out if this was an unrequited crush, an affair partner, or something else. For all I knew, this could be for a relative. Based on how many people threw themselves at him, I doubted it.
He put his finger on the perfume’s trigger, and I shivered with anticipation.
“Would you prefer I didn’t?” he asked.
Didn’t what? Love someone? Or spray the sample on me?
“It’s fine. I'm...ticklish.” I squirmed.
Angel smiled softly. “I’ll hold you firmer then,” he said, brushing his thumb across my veins.
I tried to suppress any kind of reaction: a blush, a flinch, or a breathy gasp that’d only encourage him to keep flustering me.
Why was he so comfortable in my personal space, anyway?
Maybe, for him, this was just as impersonal as taking vitals. But the delicate way he held my wrist made my heart rate skyrocket.
He sprayed the bottle six inches from my skin.
Mist hung in the air for a second before drifting down like tiny scented feathers.
Goosebumps pricked across my arms. Honey, lavender, and something pretty I couldn’t name briefly tickled my nose.
“That’s nice,” I said.
He gingerly lifted my wrist to take a sniff. “Hmm, it’s fine. But let’s try another. Something stronger.”
I sighed in resignation as he browsed the display, my wrist still in his grasp. Would anything satisfy him?
He exchanged the mild perfume for a bottle shaped like a woman’s torso with vaguely smoothed-off boobs reminiscent of a censored Greek statue.
It wasn’t like either of us should be affected by a nude bust. We’d seen our share of human bodies in our studies.
But the way his thumb slid over the bottle’s curves compressed my chest. Incrementally, I steadied my breathing.
But then he sprayed the contents of the lady-bottle on me.
A thick, fruity musk clung to my arm and clogged up my lungs.
Coughing, I waved to clear the air. That perfume was an asthma attack waiting to happen.
Angel chuckled. “Too bold or too much?”
“N-no. It’s a wonderful scent. I just inhaled wrong.” I wheezed, glancing over my shoulder.
Thankfully, Meg was too busy redistributing the abandoned tangle of thongs to notice my sales faux-pas.
The Closette sold lovely fragrances. But after two years of scrubs and bleach, I’d gotten used to wearing comfy clothes and trying not to smell anything.
Heavy boots clomped to my right. A sharp-jawed mall security guard with shoulder-length dark hair and a trim beard scanned the inside of the store.
Was he looking for something in particular or just getting ideas for Valentine’s gifts?
The stern knit of his brow indicated he was looking for trouble. Or a troublemaker.
We made eye contact. I tensed with an awkward wave to say, ‘Hi. I’m innocent.’
He smirked and tipped his head as if to say, ‘I figured,’ then continued on his patrol.
I bet that security guard wouldn’t subject me to a sniff test.
Angel made a low growl, and a sudden spray chilled my neck.
“Ah, Angel,” I hissed, turning to him.
But he was much closer than I expected. Our noses grazed. I gasped and jerked back.
He straightened his spine, his tone flat. “Sorry. You ran out of wrists.”
“You must've run out of common sense. Ask someone before you spray them like that,” I complained, checking to make sure my boss hadn't seen us.
“Says the girl who snapped a thong at me,” he chided.
“That was an accident,” I reminded him sharply.
He arched his brow. “After you threw yourself in my path?”
“Yes.” I tugged my hem down. “I realize it looks bad, but so does having some guy sniff my neck.”
“Some guy?” He scoffed, propping himself on the display. “Aren’t we old friends?”
I shook my head. What was he getting at? The only time he talked to me was when he needed notes or wanted to tease me.
“Such a shame we never formed a connection,” he said, his gaze wandering over me as if he had no idea why we'd never been more than lab partners.
He’d squeezed my bleeding heart to pass the class, then moved on to the next.
He probably wasn’t even going to buy anything. All these stupid sniff-tests must be a game to him.
What was the point in playing along?
We’d never be friends. Or more than that.
“Something tells me it’s for the best,” I said.
His nostrils flared, and he clenched his jaw. “You’re probably right, pidge. Sorry about all this. I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.”
“I’m not ruffled. No ruffling happened. Besides, I-I’m not a pigeon.” I crossed my arms. “I’m a woman. And I need to get back to my job while I still have one.”
He scrunched his brows together. “You must be really desperate.”
“What?” I balked.
He jerked his chin. “You’re at The Closette when you should be on track for a residence. It’d be crap hours, but at least it has prospects.”
“I have prospects,” I shot back.
“What, sorting underwear?” He leaned in, disarmingly earnest. “Why are you here? Do you need help, pigeon?”
Did he really want to help me?
“No,” I strained, my throat closing with emotion.
His pupils dilated in beautiful entreaty. “Tori.”
For a second, my mind blanked with a burst of X-Ray energy, and the truth stumbled out of me. “I-I might have to defer for a bit. My sister…”
My family…
“…needs me,” I said, stretching the bottom of my shirt to prevent him from baring any other parts of me.
He frowned. “That sounds complicated. Is she going to pay you back? Or pay it forward?”
“That’d be nice, but we're family. She doesn't need to do anything,” I said, hugging myself.
He cracked a feral smile. “Interesting.”
“Why?”
He played with the arrow in his ear and shrugged. “I suppose you must love her.”
I couldn't tell if he was sincere or condescending. “Don’t you love your family?”
He twisted away with a harsh laugh. “Let’s save those questions for therapy. Anyway, if you’re looking for a job lead, a reference, or even a bit of distraction, hit me up. I'm sure I could find you something.” He winked, and the easy way he flirted tightened my insides like a bowstring.
“Thanks,” I said. Although I wasn’t sure why he’d bother helping me. Maybe he just wanted to pay me back for sharing my notes in med school. But I couldn’t count on it. “Good luck with your loved one,” I said.
He pushed himself off the perfume display. “Good luck with your sister. And extra luck with the underwear.”
At this point, I’d probably need it. I sighed as he finally began to leave. So much for my first sale.
The aroma of vanilla meringue filled my lungs. I sniffed my wrist and fingertips, trying to figure out which perfume that’d been.
Testing all the bottles to find the right match would give me a headache. I called to Angel. “Hey, which one did you spray on my neck?”
He hesitated. “Why? Do you like it?”
I shrugged and gave him a bashful smile. “Everyone likes cake.”
It was one of the only reasons my sisters would go to each other’s birthday parties after a certain age.
He chuckled and hung his head.
What was funny about that?
He rubbed his face, then plucked a pale pink box from the display. “It was this.”
“Thanks.” I scanned the name inscribed in holographic silver: Secret Valentine.
Huh. I would’ve expected ‘smoldering evening’ or ‘divine dawn’ to be in line with The Closette’s brand. But this was nice.
“I guess I’ll take it,” he said, tidying the display.
I looked around for a clue as to what he meant. “You’ll take what?”
“The perfume. ‘Everyone likes cake,’” he quoted.
“Oh yeah.” I beamed, still not sure how I’d convinced him to buy it. “Anything else?”
“Not today,” he said, his lashes downcast.
I rung him up, then rubbed the box on our sensor pad so it wouldn’t set off the alarm when he left.
My first sale. So exciting!
I packed the bag with extra tissue paper to cushion the bottle, even if the box had some built-in protections. This was a special gift for a loved one. Did we have ribbon in the desk?
Angel sighed and surveyed the front of the store.
Maybe he wanted to get out of here even more than I’d love to see him go. No ribbon today.
“Do you need a gift receipt?” I asked.
“No,” he said, oddly droll.
“But isn’t it a gift?”
He shot me a wry look. “Are you hoping I’ll have to come back and exchange it?”
Adrenaline flooded my veins. “N-no, of course not. I’m just not sure it’d smell the same on your secret valentine. Er, love. Whatever. Sorry, the name of the perfume was stuck in my head. I hope you both enjoy it.” I flashed him an awkward smile and stuck the bag out for him.
“Thanks, pidge.” He took his purchase, then sauntered off, sparing a smirk for Meg, who'd resumed watching us from the thong bin.
I hurried over to help her sort underwear, my fingers itching to do something useful.
“Who was that?” she asked, eyeing his backside.
‘It’s complicated’ would raise more questions. “We shared a few classes in med school,” I said, pulling apart some black strings.
She perked up. “He’s going to be a doctor?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” If he could get through the program.
“He’s kind of cute,” she said with a strange little smile.
Thank goodness he wasn’t within earshot. I could only imagine his smug grin at the compliment.
I wrinkled my nose. “He’s a lot to handle. But that’s typical for doctors, I guess.”
She leaned over the bin. “Have you dated many of them?”
“No.” I laughed. That would’ve been a complete disaster. “But I get why people did. Or do.” I swallowed a lump in my throat and pawed more thongs free. “Hypothetically, they help people. And with long hours at the hospital...”
People sought release. Or at least that was what my friends told me.
I was sure Angel entertained himself plenty.
I tossed the rest of the freed thongs into the bin with a bit more force than necessary.
Meg furrowed her brow at me.
“Sorry.” That kind of stuff shouldn’t bother me. I stroked the measuring tape draped around my neck to wipe my sweating palms. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Not right now. Congratulations on your first sale, by the way.” She patted the thong bin like it was the top of my head. “Mom’ll be proud.”
“Thanks,” I said, my cheeks warm.
Hopefully, my next sale would be easier.
I headed to the perfume display to wipe our fingerprints off the mirrored top. A small bottle with a pink bow sat in the middle of a row that needed to be straightened. I fixed it to sit in front of its proper box.
Secret Valentine. I snuck a quick sniff: nice, but not as much sweet vanilla meringue as I remembered. Huh. Maybe it was different because this time, it wasn't on my skin, and Angel’s cologne wasn't influencing it.
That was too bad. Our scents mixed well…even if we didn’t.