Rya rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she repeats, frustrated.
After finishing up our brunch, the boys go off to do their golfing and Rya and I are heading into Caesars Palace.
“Do you have a certain perfume you were looking for?” I ask as we walk around window shopping until we find somewhere we want to go.
Inside Caesars Palace is flowing with chatter. Everywhere in Vegas is alive. Everyone shuffles around each other as they head to the next store. The marble floors and the brightness of the chandeliers Illuminate this space.
“No, I just want a new scent,” she says, glancing around at all the stores.
I doubt she needs a new scent. She has four shelves full of perfumes. “Let’s go in there,” I say, pointing at Valentino. There is a scent from them I’ve been wanting to smell.
We walk into the store, and we’re instantly hit with the thick smell of all the aromas of the fragrances mingling in the air.
“Can I help you ladies with anything?” A blonde girl, her low-cut shirt clinging tight across her chest, asks with a wide grin that reveals her pearly white teeth.
“Just looking,” I say.
“Okay, let me know if you need anything.”
I nod with a smile. “Thanks.”
I glance around the store, looking at the perfumes until I catch the green bottle on display and head over there. I grab the bottle and spritz it on my wrist, inhaling the warm amber vanilla scent. It’s better than I expected.
Rya leans in and sniffs the scent around me. “What is that?” She sniffs again. “That smells amazing.”
“It’s the Valentino Born in Roma Donna Green Stravaganza perfume,” I say, almost tongue-tied. She turns her wrist around and I spray a spritz on her.
Her eyes light up brighter as she takes another sniff of the scent from her wrist. “Oh, my God.” She sniffs again. “I’m getting this.”
I grab a one-ounce bottle, and she grabs the bigger one. “Why are you getting the smaller one?” she asks.
I turn to face her. “Because I hardly wear perfume anymore and then they go bad.”
Ever since I quit my corporate job and started my bakery, Violet’s Bakery, out of my home, I hardly wear perfume, makeup or do my hair. I’m in gym clothes twenty-four seven, and since I’m home all day cooking, there’s no need to do my makeup and hair. It sounds like I look like a slob. But I do put myself together enough to not look like I just rolled out of bed. There is no useputting on a full face of makeup, spraying perfume, or dressing all fancy. Half the time, I smell like bread or sugar and the other half, I get flour on my face and hair.
“This smells so damn good. I’m going to be spraying it all day long,” she says while she sprays herself with more of the tester.
She’s the one who wanted to buy a perfume and here I am the one who found one to buy. “With the million other perfumes you have?” I question.
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t remind me,” she says as we both walk over to smell the other fragrances. “Ezra is sick of all my shit. He says I buy too much.” She grabs another perfume, takes a sniff and her eyes go bright again.
Oh no.
“Don’t you think you have enough stuff?” I say, curling my lips underneath one another. She hates when people mention things to her that she doesn’t think is a problem.
She tilts her head at me and narrows her gaze in adon’t start this shitkind of look.
I shrug my shoulders and raise my hands.
“I’m not stupid. I know I buy a lot of stuff. It’s an addiction that makes me happy,” she says, grabbing another fragrance and inhaling the scent she spritzes in the air. Once again, her eyes go wide. “It’s what makes me happy,” she says as she grabs a basket from one table and puts three perfumes in it. She eyes me with a slight smile. “It could be worse. I could be addicted to drugs.” And then she’s off to another section of the store to smell more perfumes.
I shake my head, watching as she squares her shoulders like she’s on a mission.
“I hope Ezra doesn’t kill her,” I whisper to myself.
But knowing Ezra, he won’t. He’s such a sweet guy. He’s always been quiet and reserved; he’s the opposite of the loudand outgoing Rya. They say opposites attract, and with her wild energy and his calmness, they prove it true.
“Holy shit, girl,” Rya says as she halts in her steps and stares me up and down. “You look hot. Zayn is getting lucky tonight.” She moves her brows up and down.
