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“But I’ll keep you company.”

She looked over her shoulder and winked as we entered her backyard. It was smaller than I thought but, like her house, very unique and cozy.

“You have a green thumb.” I looked around at all the flowers she’d planted. There was no rhyme or reason to it, but somehow it all worked together.

“Thanks. I do try my best. Mom helps a lot, too, though. She’s amazing with plants.”

She had a comfortable setup with two armchairs and a wooden round table.

“You weren’t kidding about the Aperol,” I said, glancing at the orange drink.

She laughed. “What’s that look of disgust on your face?”

“I just don’t understand how this became a thing.”

“In the beginning, neither did I. It’s an acquired taste, I think. It took me about three times to truly enjoy it. Now I’m addicted.”

She took a sip as if to prove it before popping another praline into her mouth.

Being around her did something to me. I didn’t know what it was, but I wanted more of it.

She pushed the box of pralines toward me. “You can have another one.”

“Just one?” I teased.

“Well, yeah. It’s my box.”

That made me laugh.

“I’m good. I just wanted to see how they taste with lilac.”

Piper closed her eyes, looking at them, then opened one.

“Lilac. Wait, isn’t that…?” She straightened up. “Isn’t there a story in your family about it?”

“Apparently, it only applies to perfumes. I found out today.”

“Oh, okay.”

I was certain that was disappointment in her tone.

Rolling her shoulders back, she crossed and uncrossed her legs. I hadn’t even taken stock of what she was wearing. Her dress wasn’t short, but her gorgeous legs were on display. I remembered the way she’d so easily opened them for me last night, welcoming me.

I took a deep breath, then focused on her face again. It was easier. I opened my mouth to ask her if she wanted us to order early dinner or go out, but then my phone beeped. Piper startled at the sound, and I groaned.

“It’s Isabeau. I have to take this. She’s with Charlotte right now.”

I answered right away.

“Isabeau, what’s wrong?”

“Hi, hon. Look, sorry to do this, but I think you need to come home. The little one’s been out of sorts, and I can’t seem to get her to calm down.”

“Does she have a fever?”

“There’s nothing wrong, really. I checked everything. I think she might just need her dad.”

“I’m on my way,” I assured her. “I need twenty-five minutes max.”