Rooted (Pagano Family #3)(11)
Orchids. Orchids in Autumn. Theo.
The effects this morning of the bottle of wine she’d drunk last night were mild—a little dry mouth, a light headache. One of the benefits, Carmen supposed, of a good bottle of wine was that it didn’t kick quite so hard the next morning. She rooted around in her head to see how she felt about her encounter with Theo Wilde. She’d certainly been more friendly with him than was her custom.
But she felt fine about it. She doubted she’d see him again, but she’d enjoyed herself. He’d even charmed her, and Carmen was tough to charm—especially by a man who’d approached her with the specific intent to be charming.
Last night, she’d seriously considered f*cking him. He was hot. And smart. Talented—she knew that. Could be fun. But in the fresh morning breeze and brightening sun, she decided she didn’t need a f*ck buddy in France, not even for a night. Why risk the complication? This trip was about Rosa.
Well, it was mostly about Rosa. She had work to do here, too—she had set up professional-courtesy tours of a few facilities, including some commercial lavender farms down south in Avignon.
Behind her, she heard Rosa walking through the living room to the kitchen, still singing, now under her breath. She turned and watched through the open balcony doors as her little sister went into the kitchen and then came out with a pastry and cup of coffee to match what Carmen had mostly finished. She came onto the balcony and sat at the table.
Rosa loved fashion—her version of it, anyway. She wasn’t necessarily an over-the-top dresser, but Carmen was often a bit baffled by her clothes, if only because she seemed to put far more effort into her ensembles than her schedule warranted. Today, for example: Rosa wore a miniskirt in what looked like pewter leather, with the iridescent sheen of material treated to look like metal. Over it, she wore a form-fitting white t-shirt, the short sleeves and the neckline trimmed with what looked for all the world to be a thin band of leopard skin.
They were sightseeing today, and the weather was warm. Carmen was wearing comfortable jeans with a black leather belt, low-heeled boots, and a black beater tank. Her one concession to style was that the beater was embellished with soutache braiding in a plum color.
“You’re chipper this morning, sis.”
Rosa grinned and sipped her coffee. “Ugh. It’s already cold.” Carmen waited for more fuss about that, but Rosa simply shrugged and took another drink. “Yeah. I guess I finally got on French time.” She crossed one leg over the other, and Carmen noticed that she was wearing strappy platform sandals with a serious heel.
“We’re going to be walking a lot today, hon. I don’t think you want to be wearing those shoes.”
Rosa scoffed. “Pfft. I wear heels all the time. I walked all over campus all day long in heels. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure? We’re going to have a problem if you want to bail halfway through the day. We’ve been here a week, and you’re finally dragging your ass into the city.”
“I’m sorry! I had jetlag!” She picked at her blueberry pastry.
“Nobody has jetlag for a week, Rosa.”
Well, Carmen should have kept her trap shut and enjoyed her sister’s good mood, because pushing her—and for no real reason—had brought the pouty face back.
“You’re being a bitch. As per usual.” Rosa raked her manicured fingers through her hair and stared out at the street. She was always doing something weird to her long, naturally dark brown locks. Usually, Carmen thought it looked overdone. Sometimes even trashy. But she liked this new color. In anticipation of commencement and this trip, Rosa had had some kind of ombre thing done, something close to her natural color at the top, then blending toward the bottom to a deep, rich burgundy. It looked good.
As for being called a bitch, Carmen was used to that. Regretting having poked at her sister on the day she’d finally been ready to face the world, Carmen let the insult slide. She even threw out an apology for good measure. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s just have a good day today. You still want to do that?”
Rosa sipped her lukewarm coffee and made a little face. “Yeah. But if I have to see gardens and dusty old museums—”
Carmen cut her off. “The Louvre is not a dusty old museum, hon.”
“Whatever. I want good food, too. Someplace nice.”
“As nice as we can find that doesn’t require nicer clothes than we’re wearing.”
“But you dress like a farmhand,” Rosa huffed.
“I’m not dressing for dinner, precious. I didn’t even pack clothes for that kind of night. This is how I come today.”
“Fine. But we’re going shopping tomorrow, and you’re buying a cocktail dress or something. I want a fancy night out.”
Carmen chuckled. “You want a fancy date with your sister?”
“Do I have a choice of escort?”
“I guess you don’t,” she conceded with a sigh. “Fine. We’ll shop tomorrow, and I’ll buy some grossly overpriced dress and take you out for a fancy night in Paris.”
Rosa smiled broadly, her good mood restored. “We can be like Audrey Hepburn and…some other old-timey movie star.”
Carmen rolled her eyes. Yeah. Fun. Woot.
oOo
They took the Metro to the Bois de Boulogne. After two hours there, Rosa’s tolerance for parks had dried up. That was fine with Carmen; she hadn’t actually intended to drag her little sister through more. But one thing about managing Rosa—if she felt like she was getting a concession, her acceptance of the rest was much higher. Thinking that Carmen intended to visit two more gardens, Rosa would have bailed on this first one within an hour. But when, upon Rosa’s first complaint, Carmen said they could skip the others (which Carmen had already seen during Rosa’s sleep-a-thon) and just go have a nice lunch before the Louvre, Rosa perked right up and was a delight for the whole time Carmen wanted to study plants and arrangements in the Jardin de Bagatelle, inside the bois.