He liked that look, though he didn’t care to speculate on why. Dangerous territory, thinking about Loretta and bed.

“Is anyone else staying with you?” Zara asked, peeking past him to the doorway, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of some exotic guest.

“Uh-huh. Two more couples, one from Shreveport and one from Houston.”

“Are they interesting?”

“The couple from Shreveport are pretty fun. Newlyweds.” Luc lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But the ones from Houston-snooty. Nothing’s good enough for them. I had to get them a different kind of soap, and a different kind of toilet paper.”

Zara giggled, which was the result Luc had intended. She was a smart little girl, sometimes scarily so. But she was way too serious for a nine-year-old. Anything she took an interest in, she pursued with the dogged determination of someone much older. She’d taken up Cajun fiddle-playing at age six, and in only three years had become proficient enough that she was going to perform at the upcoming music festival.

Loretta joined them, her arms filled with a giant basket. Luc took it from her, leaning close enough to get a whiff of her shampoo. She smelled like lavender and honey and fresh-baked bread. The combination of scents made Luc’s skin tingle.

“My dad sent you some new honey samples,” Loretta said, clearly oblivious to her effect on him. “Red currant-and cranberry-flavored. Those are his newest inspirations.”

“I’ll let you know how the guests like them.”

She flashed him a shy smile. “I gave you some extra orange muffins, too, since I know you like them.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me, Ms. Castille.”

Loretta picked up the empty basket Luc had brought out, suddenly all business. “Same order for tomorrow?”