“It’s no big deal,” he assures me. “I can’t have you trying to run a shop with that ugly shit on the windows. Problem solved. The nightmare’s behind you now, sweetheart. However,” he adds with a grin brightening his face, “you’re all shaken up. Too shaken up to try and keep the shop running today. You need a break.”
I blink a few times, confused. “No, no. I-I’m fine, really. I have a lot of work to do.”
Bruno glances around. “Looks spic-and-span in here, Serena. Not much to do.”
I shifted uncomfortably, biting my lip. “Well, it’s just…I can’t leave. What if I have a customer? I need to meet my daily sales quota or the profit margin gets totally skewed, and I’m already barely breaking even, as it is, and—”
“Hey,” Bruno interrupts, his hands landing gently on my shoulders as he peers into my face. I feel my body heating up just from this light touch. “If it’s a quota you’re after, just let me know how much it is and I’ll make it happen.”
I raise an eyebrow skeptically. “What, do you ‘know a guy’ who needs a few hundred dollars’ worth of bath bombs and soaps?”
Bruno chuckles. “Yeah. Me.”
I stare at him blankly. “You. You want three-hundred-dollars of bath goods.”
He shrugs and walks over to pick up a wicker shopping basket. “Sure. Load me up.”
“Bruno, that’s ridiculous, you can’t just—”
“Why not? You’re really going to turn away a paying customer?” he asks earnestly, with a mischievous glint in his gorgeous eyes. Against my better judgement, I have to laugh.
“Okay. Fine. If you’re totally sure.”
“Oh, I definitely am. Now, do you have any manly-scented stuff or am I just gonna go full floral with this deal?” he asks, picking up and peering quizzically at a lavender-scented bubble bath gel.
I giggle and direct him toward the corner of the shop dedicated to slightly more masculine scents like sandalwood, cedar, and evergreen. I realize I’m not quite sure how to proceed. Usually I have to make some kind of eloquent sales pitch, going through the motions of giving free samples, gingerly soaping and rinsing a customer’s hands while describing the various benefits and quirks of our homemade products.
“So, do you want to just kind of take some of everything or…?” I question.
“No, no. I want the full spiel. I want some testers and samples. Let’s do this,” Bruno says brightly. I can’t help but grin. He seems like such a serious guy, it’s amazing to see how relaxed and whimsical he can actually be.
So we spend the next forty-five minutes testing out a ton of different scents and products in the sink while I explain how, every month, I spend a whole weekend in the back kitchen creating all these soaps, bath bombs, and everything else. It’s a long, back-breaking process, but it’s also really fun and relaxing in some ways. I get to zone out and listen to my favorite music while I play mad scientist, mixing essential oils and playing with new combinations. My mom taught me everything, which she learned from a summer of soap-making classes over a decade ago, back when life was easy and she was just a bored housewife looking for a new hobby. Long before this became the one business endeavor keeping us afloat. Barely.
And it’s fun today, too, washing Bruno’s strong, scarred hands in the sink, the two of us leaning close together, so close I can feel the masculine heat coming from his powerful body. We flirt shamelessly throughout the whole process, and by the time we’re done, we’ve moved from the men’s section and outward, so that his basket is also filled with rose-and lavender-scented products, too.
“So, you’re really gonna use this stuff? You’re gonna squeeze your massive body into a little bathtub and take a sugar-cookie-scented bubble bath?” I ask him, giggling.
He gives me a wink. “Maybe I will. Or maybe I’ll just save all that stuff so that you can use it when you stay over at my place. Gotta make my bathroom more lady-friendly, of course.”
I can feel myself blushing, and I look away. But Bruno takes me gently by the chin and turns me back to face him before leaning down and kissing me softly. A tingling warmth shoots all the way down my body and I melt into the kiss. Bruno sets all three of his heaping-full shopping baskets down on the counter and pulls me in close, deepening the kiss. I lose myself in the moment, our tongues gently pushing against each other while his hands stroke the hair back from my face.
When we break apart, he says, “Well, I guess I’m ready to check out.”
As I ring him up, the total reaches well over the daily sales quota and my stomach flip-flops.
“Bruno, are you sure? This is...really expensive. You don’t have to buy all this stuff.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. You can’t talk me out of it. Your sales pitch was just too convincing, and yes, I do need three baskets of bath products. It’s final.”
After he pays— in cash— I help him load all his purchases into the trunk of his car, and then he turns to me and says, “Well, now that that’s over, I think it’s time you take the rest of the day off. After all, you have officially met your daily quota. What else could there be for you to do?”
At first I open my mouth to protest, to tell him that it would be irresponsible for me to abandon my duties even now. What would my mother think? What would my father think? But instead, I realize that I have no way of resisting Bruno’s offer, and even if I did...well, I really do want to go with him and see whatever he has in store for me.
So I give in easily and decide to lock up the shop for the day. It’s thrilling, like the feeling of ditching class for the first time as a teenager, that delicious, forbidden sense of freedom and danger. I have no idea what to expect from a day out with Bruno. It’s been so long since we last spent time together this way, and even though I know him, he’s definitely changed since then. But I am so willing and excited to find out.
“So, where are we headed on this day of rebellious truancy?” I pipe up as I slide into the passenger seat of his sleek car. Bruno revs the engine into gear and glances over at me with a smile.
“Have you ever been to the aquarium?” he asks.
“The aquarium?” I repeat incredulously. “Really? No, I-I haven’t been there, actually.”
“Well, today’s the day then,” Bruno declares, reaching over to gently squeeze my thigh through the thin fabric of my dress. That telltale heatwave vibrates through me again.
But after a few minutes of driving, I realize we’re not going in the direction of the New York Aquarium. In fact, I have no idea where we’re actually headed.
BRUNO
I don’t let myself glance at the rear-view mirror more than once every few minutes. I’ve learned to act natural in situations like this, to almost convince myself that nothing is out of the ordinary as I carefully weave through traffic. It’s important to stay relaxed, not to show the slightest hint that you know anything is out of the ordinary.
Because we’re being tailed.
I noticed it several blocks back, and it took a lot of strength not to swear. The black sedan that’s been keeping up with us isn’t one that I recognize. It’s the Cleaners, I have no doubt in my mind about that.