by Kelly Moran
All the wardrobe options, cavalry, and artists in the world weren’t going to change her or the situation. What was the point of this? Then again, maybe if she looked the part, people would talk less.
She came to a stop at the foot of her bed. Brent had already laid out the dresses. She eyed a large black suitcase on the mattress next to them. She hadn’t even noticed he’d had that with him. “What’s that?”
“Glitter and icing.” He walked a circle around her, finger tapping his lips. “I think the gold dress. Your coloring? Oh yes. The gold one.”
What did he mean by glitter and icing? She glanced at the dress options, focusing on the one he’d picked. Though pretty with a v-neck and sequin design, it was short, above the knee, thus out of the question. “I can’t wear that.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Why not? It’ll look amaze-balls on you.”
Until people saw her scars. “I only wear ankle-long skirts.”
Brows arched, he glanced down the length of her and back. “Hour-glass shape and legs for days? That’s a pity. Why?”
She swallowed and looked at Miles, then the floor, not sure how to answer.
“The black and red gowns are just as nice,” Miles hedged, seemingly picking up on her tension. “Both of those are long.”
“But the gold one—”
“I have scars.” Dang it. She’d said that unnecessarily loud. Closing her eyes, she drew a calming breath. “I have scars on my calves and feet.” She carefully lifted her lids, finding Brent solemnly studying her. “I was in an accident as a young girl and the scars are bad. Please, if you’re going to make me play dress up, can we go with a different choice?”
Understanding filled his eyes. “Sure, sugarplum. Red would be a great color on you, as well.”
“Thank you.” Throat tight, she cleared it. “I didn’t mean to snap. It’s a touchy subject and no one else knows.”
“My lips are sealed.” He made a locking key motion over his mouth.
“Me, too,” Miles added.
“Now, let’s see what we have.” Brent clapped his hands. “I think we’ll put your hair up. It’s gorgeous, but with a strapless dress, an up-do style fits better.” He narrowed his eyes. “Smoky shadow, bright lipstick for pop. Oh yes, I can work with this. You have a great face.”
“Er, thanks?” First time she’d heard that. It was the only face she had, so good thing. “I don’t wear a lot of makeup.”
“I can tell,” he drolled. “You don’t really need it, either. But this is a special event. We’ll doll you up.”
At that point, she figuratively threw her hands up in surrender. He couldn’t make her worse.
He dragged a chair over to her vanity and patted the seat while Miles claimed an empty spot on her bed. A sigh, and Ella sat facing the mirror.
Brent immediately became a whirlwind of motion. He opened the case next to the dresses, pulled out a white box, a bottle of champagne, and three glasses. He promptly popped the cork, poured, and passed them out. “Cheers, bitches.”
She glanced at her flute. “I don’t really drink very much.” Or at all.
“Bottoms up. It’ll help your jitters and one must drink bubbly when having a makeover.”
She guessed one glass wouldn’t hurt and took a sip. It fizzled in her mouth and heated a path to her stomach. Not so bad. “What’s in the box?”
“Chocolate covered strawberries. A necessity with champagne.” He handed her and Miles one. From there, he pulled out curling irons and combs and pins, putting them on the vanity, then moved behind her.
For the next hour, he murmured to himself, tsked a few times, and often hummed like he was caught up in his own musical version of Hairspray. Or Rent. Or a combo of both. She ate her strawberry and drank half her champagne, laughing at the tale Miles relayed on how he and Brent had met. Apparently, they had been a set up by The Battleaxes also.
Once finished, Brent grinned. “What do you think? I got skills, I know.”
She leaned forward to see better, turning her head from side to side, and was impressed. He’d done some kind of large bun reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. She almost never wore her hair up, unless it was a ponytail. The last time she’d had it styled had been her cousin’s wedding. This was very nice. Sleek, but not showy.
“I like it. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. And now for cosmetics.”
She must’ve shown her nerves because Miles laughed from the bed. “It won’t hurt.”
Following Brent’s directions, she sat as still as possible while he did his thing. He blocked the mirror by standing in front of her, so she had no clue what he was doing, but he seemed way more knowledgeable than her and she rolled with it. She could only pray Miles wasn’t recording this because the facial expressions Brent wanted her to make had to look ridiculous.
“Ta-da. Voila.”
She waited for him to move and looked at her reflection. She had been prepared to not recognize herself, but that wasn’t the case. It was still her, just…enhanced. Her eyes seemed bigger with his use of shadow, which was a blend of several different shades of gray, and her lipstick was a way brighter red than she’d ever dare use before, but she was still herself. She could definitely live with the result.
“Thank you so much. You’ll have to teach me how to do that. I’m not very good at makeup.”
“Anytime, sugar plum.”
Miles stepped behind her chair and smiled at her in the mirror. “What a vision.”
“Aw. Thanks. I guess I should get dressed now?”
Brent passed her the dress and she slipped into the bathroom. She hung the hanger on the shower curtain rod and eyed her compression stockings. She had a pair of black, nude, and white. Two each.
She bit her lip. “What color panty hose?”
“Black,” they both shouted through the door.
Okay. Black.
Quickly, she undressed and washed up a little. She applied a dab of perfume on her neck and wrists, then put on her stockings. From there, she slid into the dress and pulled up the side zipper. Checking herself in the mirror, she twisted to get a view of all angles.
It was a mystery how Brent had gotten her size correct, but the dress fit really well. Strapless, it cupped her breasts and flowed to her ankles in a simple yet elegant style. No frills or fluff. The red material was silky and lightweight. Comfortable, too, all things considered. She was rather curvy in stature, but the dress seemed to enhance them instead of adding the semblance of weight. It made her feel like a princess, one from the movies she rarely watched that Gerta loved.
Opening the door, Ella held out her arms. “Satisfactory?”
They shook their heads, but it was Brent who answered. “No. You look spankin’.”
She assumed that was a good thing and smiled. “Shoes? I can only wear flats.”
Miles laughed. “That rules out anything he brought.”
“I have a pair.” She walked to her closet and removed the black pump flats from the rack. “Will these do?”
Brent’s expression said he was unimpressed, but he shrugged. “They’ll do.” He held up a gold chain necklace with a red ruby-like pendant. “The icing.” He secured it in place for her.
She fingered the cool metal. “I love it. Thank you. I’ll get these things back to you tomorrow.”
“No need. They’re yours.”
“Really? That’s so nice. Thank you! I’ll have you over for dinner one night in exchange.”
Sitting on the bed, she slid on the shoes and glanced at the chaos around her. She’d never had many girlfriends—or guy friends, in this case—to assist her with things like a night out or dates. Despite this being all for a charity appointment, she’d had fun getting ready.
“Thanks, guys. I appreciate the help. I was really nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous, sugar plum. Just climb that man like an oak.”
&n
bsp; Unable to help it, she laughed. “We’re just friends.”
“Pfft.” Brent did some kind of I-don’t-think-so head jive. “Not for long.”
There was no sense in arguing. People would catch on and figure it out soon enough.
A quick glance at the clock on her nightstand showed she had five minutes before she had to walk across the street to meet Jason. They had never worked out who was picking up whom, but she assumed he’d want to drive. Seemed easier if she just headed to him.
Her belly fluttered with anxiety, and she blew out a calming breath. Friends or not, he still made her nervous. Plus, they were going to be in a crowded restaurant, front and center for everybody. Brent had transformed her into something presentable. At least she wouldn’t embarrass Jason. Now if she could only glue her mouth shut, maybe she could get through the evening unscathed.
“You got this,” Brent said as if reading her mind while packing his supplies. “I expect full deets in the morning. Or tomorrow afternoon if things get hawt.”
The only thing ‘hawt” about tonight was going to be her face after incessantly babbling, but again, she said nothing.
“Walk us out?” Miles smiled and offered a one-armed hug. “The most important thing is that you have a good time.”
She nodded and led the way. Grabbing her purse, she met them in the hallway and locked the door. “Thank you again. This was super nice of you.”
“Don’t misunderstand,” Miles said and winked. “He had way too much fun. We should thank you.”
She laughed and waited until they were back in Miles’s apartment before descending the stairs. Standing in her unit’s foyer, she glanced across the street where she could barely make out Jason’s building through the trees and bushes lining the sidewalk.
Was he nervous, too? Had he spent a few hours preparing like she had or was he used to this sort of thing and knew exactly what to pull out of his closet? Did he have a strange flutter of excitement in his gut or was he ready to jump out of his skin to see her?
He’d told her many times he found her babbling adorable. He always responded to her texts regarding Storm and chatted sometimes about other things afterward. And then there had been that moment in his bedroom when he’d touched her hair, almost like he couldn’t help himself. He’d even called her pretty. Of course, that had probably just been a line or something to say to fill the silence, but still. It had been sweet of him.
Sometimes he looked at her like he wanted… Well, her. Like he wanted her. Which was asinine. Right? She had no other way to translate his expressions because he chronically switched tactics when she’d noticed a change. He also hid his emotions well. And he had insisted they go through with the “fake date.” Regardless, he gave off just enough signals to have hope for more blooming. She should count her blessings for anything at this point.
Darn those possibilities, anyway.
Guilt trickled through her at the thought. He didn’t know about their shared past. Chances were, he’d want nothing to do with her if he knew the truth. It was one thing to withhold information if they were simply acquaintances, but friends or a relationship was entirely different. For now, she’d gauge him tonight and see where to go from there.
Gosh, she was out of her element. She didn’t have a lot of friends and dating had been more scarce. If she knew what was good for her, she’d get over her stupid little crush right this instant. The fall afterward was rarely worth the climb. A guy like Jason? She’d need a full-body cast.
Giddy happiness mixed with panicky anticipation in her chest and made her light-headed while she crossed the street. A stupid grin kept splitting her cheeks no matter how many times she forcibly wiped it. Brent had found her a dress and done her hair and applied cosmetics and she was seeing Jason tonight. She was going to enjoy herself. Lord knew the last time she’d gone out. She’d make the most of it and have fun. She deserved it.
Out of breath from eagerness, she entered the main door and climbed the stairs. His apartment door was wide open when she got there. Concern hit her first, followed by the cold claws of fear. She stopped in her tracks, reaching for her phone in her purse. Shoot. She’d left it in her bedroom.
A brunette zipped past the entryway going from his living room to the kitchen. Ella spotted just enough detail to recognize her, but not quite place the face.
“Good. You’re back.” Jason’s voice echoed down the hall. Most likely, from his bedroom. “Shut the door so the cat doesn’t get out.”
“We put her in your office, remember?”
“Damn it, that’s right. I’m all screwed up.”
“Glad you realize it.”
Ella waited, not wanting to intrude. Her stomach soured the longer she stood there. Whoever the woman was, he was awfully familiar with her. Had he forgotten about tonight and made other plans?
“Hardy, har-har.” He growled a sound of frustration. “Get in here, love of my life. I can’t manage this tie.”
Love of his life?
Cold dread crept up her spine and settled in her bones. The ache of disappointment jellied her muscles.
The woman headed toward the bedroom, and Ella finally realized where she knew her from. Parker’s sister, Paige. She’d been divorced a couple years and her daughter Katie had been in Ella’s kindergarten class last year. She had no clue Paige and Jason were a couple. No one else seemed to, either. No way The Battleaxes would have tried to set them up if he was already with someone.
Did Parker know his best friend was dating his sister? And why would Paige be okay with Jason going out with Ella tonight if they were in a relationship? Unless…Paige knew it was an obligation, that nothing would come of it. Had everything up to now been a cosmic joke on Ella’s behalf?
Acid ate away at her stomach lining and seared a path up her throat. She locked her knees to keep herself upright when they threatened to buckle.
“I’m coming. Hold your horses, hot stuff. Why haven’t you learned how to knot a tie yet?”
“My dad died before he could teach me, remember? Besides, I avoid formal wear like the plague. Why the hell did I agree to this charade? Exactly what I don’t want to do on a Saturday night, put on another monkey suit and pretend I’m good with being the entertainment. Authorization and good causes notwithstanding.”
And there Ella had it, straight from the bachelor’s mouth. He didn’t want to go out with her tonight. At all, in fact. He’d agreed out of duty. A requirement. Heck, he was dating someone else, for crying out loud. Or, at least, in some kind of relationship with her.
Ella’s shoulders sank right along with her fleeting chipper mood. She glanced down at her dress, smoothed a trembling hand over her hair. All for nothing. She finally looked like a somebody, and nobody would see it. Tears burned her eyes as she backed away from the door.
Descending the stairs, she walked outside and helplessly glanced around, wondering what to do while her stomach flip-flopped. If she went home, Brent and Miles would surely hear her come in. How mortifying it would be to tell them she found out she was a pity date, that Jason never wanted to attend in the first place.
Pathetic. Utterly pathetic.
To her left, the sun was setting in the west, and she struggled to control her emotions until she was somewhere she could let go. Dang it, she wasn’t in proper walking shoes. The only thing close by was the park on the other side of her subdivision. This time of day, no one would be there.
Heart heavy, she headed in that direction, the streetlamps on timers switching on to light the way as she went.
Chapter 9
All right. In the realm of weird, this ranked high. Jason had been knocking on Ella’s door for five minutes with no response. He’d tried texting her and had also gotten zilch by way of reply. Brief as their interactions have been, she was always quick to answer his messages. Considering all the hype about tonight from the town, he doubted she’d forgotten.
He sighed, glancing down the hall. Perhaps she was in the shower or
whatever.
The door to the apartment behind him opened and he turned, finding Brent and Miles. “Hey, you guys don’t happen to know where Ella is, do you?”
“She left fifteen minutes ago to meet you.” Miles’s brows furrowed. “We were over there helping her get ready. She walked out the same time as us.”
Crap. Jason ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe we got our wires crossed. We didn’t exactly have a set plan, but I thought we agreed not to meet at Le Italy.” In fact, he swore they’d said to ride over together.
Brent nodded. “We watched her go across the street from our window. We were totally stalking.”
Jason hadn’t run into her. “She’s not at my place. Did you see her go anywhere else?”
“Uh, no. We got a little distracted.” Brent grinned suggestively.
“Let me check if her car’s here.” Miles ducked into the apartment.
Brent flapped his hands. “She was stoked about tonight. You could tell she was trying to downplay it, but she was totes excited. And she looked fantabulous, if I do say so myself.”
She was excited about their non-date? That was a drastic change from earlier in the week when she’d tried to assure him he didn’t have to go through with it. Jason had gotten the distinct impression she hated being a part of the shit show the auction and subsequent aftermath had created. The matchmaking, too.
Truth be told, if they weren’t required to be present at the restaurant with the other parties from the benefit, he might be more excited. He’d love to spend more time with her. She was funny and easy to talk to and…real. That was the greatest thing about her. She was genuine. No games, no drama.
Miles returned and shrugged. “Her car is out front. We saw her go into your complex. I hope something didn’t happen to her.”
“Like what?” Brent pressed a palm to his chest in dramatic fashion. “Like being kidnapped? Oh, my Cher! What if she was abducted?”
“In Redwood Ridge?” Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, seeking patience. “By whom? The Crotchet Club?”