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Trent was asleep when Bree snuck into the bedroom. She could tell he had been exhausted when he’d gotten home because his suit was haphazardly tossed on the end of the bed and not hung on a hanger and placed in the “to be dry cleaned” section of his closet. She smiled and picked up his jacket, holding it up in hopes of catching a whiff of his cologne. It was there, but so was a faint scent of floral perfume. Assuming that had to be because Celia had been next to him all night long, Bree put the jacket down and tried not to be upset. Who knows whose cologne might be on her? She’d hugged every male member of her band that night--and some stage hands--and Hank. Deciding she was being silly, she headed into the bathroom to take a shower. Regardless of whose cologne may have collected on her, she definitely smelled of cigarette smoke and