Not You It's Me (Boston Love #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,95
being practically frisked by a leather-clad dude you’re pretty sure they based those Jason Bourne movies on, and still come up with A-grade jokes. It’s not easy.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Don’t mention it.” With a grunt, she drops a huge pile of zippered dress carriers and paper shopping bags on the couch beside me, slaps her hands together, and pivots to take in the space. “Holy cow! This place is huge. You could film a porno in here.”
“Shelby!”
“What? One of the classy ones, obviously. With real talent and a plot. Not a corny, cheesy one with too much body hair and weird 70’s music playing in the background.”
“Ew.”
“That was a compliment!”
I glance at Knox and see the skin around his eyes has crinkled up, though his mouth is still set in a firm line. “Oh, this you find amusing?”
He shrugs, the eye-crinkle intensifying.
“Men,” I mutter, turning back to Shelby. “So, what did you bring me?”
“Three new pairs of jeans, some basic tops, and a few pretty blouses you’ll never wear. Just to get you through the next few days.” She grins shamelessly. “Plus, every dress I’ve worn in the past decade, with the exception of my wedding dress, of course. Nobody touches my Pnina Tornai. But we’ll find something for you.”
“So long as it’s not skintight or covered in sparkles, I’m okay with anything.”
Shelby makes a face and glances down at the pile of dresses. “Well, that rules out about half of these…”
I heave a heavy sigh.
This isn’t going to be pretty.
***
“Wow.”
“I know, right?”
“Really… wow.”
“I know!”
“Shelby….” My hands skim over the fabric, which drapes from my shoulders to the floor, the train just long enough to cover my toes in the front and trail along behind me as I walk. The dress is constructed of the softest, silkiest satin I’ve ever felt, lending it an elegance none of the clothes in my closet have ever had. The squared-off boat-neck cut and whisper-thin straps, coupled with a low back and a classic, fitted silhouette, make it look expensive. Elegant. Traditional.
It would be totally anti-Gemma, if not for the colors.
Because instead of using a plain black swathe of silk, or a sedate navy shade, whoever designed the dress did the unexpected and went with a bold, multicolored pattern. There are so many different hues coloring the dress, they blend together like brushstrokes on a palette. With each step I take, the colors shift and dance as the light plays across my silhouette.
I look like a walking piece of art.
A living, breathing kaleidoscope.
I know I should feel ridiculous — girls like me can’t wear dresses like this. Girls like me don’t even know how to walk in dresses with this much fabric, or heels this high. I don’t have Shelby’s toned Cross-Fit body, or Chrissy’s naturally perfect proportions. I don’t look remotely like a supermodel.
But, staring at myself in the mirror, taking in everything from my paint-palette dress to the pretty way Shelby’s pinned my hair at one side of my head, so it drapes over my left shoulder in a gathering of loose waves, I feel surprisingly confident.
Actually, I feel better than confident.
I feel pretty freaking gorgeous.
“I’ve never even worn it,” Shelby murmurs regretfully. “I bought it for a gala at the MFA last year, but Paul had to go away on business at the last minute so we gave up our tickets.”
I turn to face her. “Oh, Shelby… are you sure you want to let me borrow it?” My guilty eyes meet hers as my hands stroke the fabric covetously. “Maybe you should save it for yourself.”
“Nonsense.” She waves my words away. “It’s just sitting in my closet, collecting dust. And, girl, a Simon Gilbert dress should not be collecting dust. Ever. That dress deserves a night out on the town.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” I grin, unabashedly pleased that I don’t have to wear one of the other dresses she’s brought along. As soon as she zipped me into this one, I knew it was perfect.
Shelby snorts in amusement. “Do you want jewelry, too? I brought some nice pieces…”
“No.” I reach beneath my neckline and pull out the gold sun pendant, so it hangs over the front of the dress. “I’ll wear this. I have a feeling I’ll need whatever lucky juju I can get, tonight.”
Shelby stares at the necklace for a minute, then nods. “It looks perfect, actually. Whimsical.”
“Cool.” I grin. “But Shelbs, I think you’re forgetting something.”