Gisele smiled, slid the bag she carried off her shoulder and handed it to Holly. “I was in New Orleans today doing a little shopping and found the cutest outfit.”
Holly shook her head. “There’s no way I’d fit into it. I mean, I’m an Amazon next to you and Lizette. I take after my mother, not the petite Gautier women.”
Gisele smiled. “You’re taller, but you’re slender, and I’ll bet we have the same waist and hip measurements. It’s a dress that comes down to my ankles. On you, it’ll be shorter, but adorable. Try it.”
“But I don’t have shoes to match.”
Gisele studied the ballet flats she’d worn for work. “They’re perfect. The dress is casual, a little Bohemian and will go great with your auburn hair.”
Out of reasons not to join their girls’ night out, Holly accepted the bag. “I won’t stay long. I need to get up early tomorrow to do laundry and clean my house.”
“We’ll take whatever time you’re willing to give.” Gisele turned her toward the bathrooms. “Go. We might need your help with matchmaking for the high school principal.”
“I’m not a match?—”
“Just go.” Gisele gave her a gentle shove.
Holly snagged a clean bar towel and hurried to the bathroom, not really in the mood to be social, but resigning herself to the night. Gisele had been there for her when she’d come blasting back into town after being gone for six months.
She’d helped her find a place to live—a place she never would’ve thought of. Rental property in the summertime was at a premium, but Gisele had friends with a houseboat they weren’t using and had convinced them to rent it to Holly for cheap, with the promise of cleaning it and performing some minor maintenance.
She’d moved out of her grandmother’s house and into the houseboat earlier that day. It was perfect for her budget, which was whatever she made working for Rene and the tips she brought home.
And it came with a pirogue she could use to paddle out to her grandmother, Madam Gautier’s place in the bayou, not too far from town. Not that her grandmother had been available since she’d arrived. She’d been back and forth to New Orleans, stocking up on food and supplies for her business.
She’d promised to be available soon to help Holly work on finding the source of the curse that had followed her from Bayou Mambaloa to Atlanta.
Holly hoped to connect with her grandmother, who also happened to be the friendly neighborhood Voodoo Queen. She helped so many of the inhabitants of Bayou Mambaloa; surely, she could help her own granddaughter vanquish whatever curse was affecting her life before anyone else was hurt or killed.
In the bathroom, she stripped out of her damp clothes. She used the bar towel for a quick wipe down to remove the remaining beer and whiskey from her skin.
Then she removed the dress from the bag and pulled it over her head. The soft, flowy material floated down her body. Though loose, it molded to her curves, the hem reaching mid-calf. A smocked bodice stretched over her full breasts, and the little capped sleeves fit best worn off her shoulders, which meant if she didn’t want to display bra straps. The bra had to go.
She unclasped it and pulled it off, then slid her arms back into the little sleeves.
A glance in the mirror made Holly smile.
This was a typical Gisele dress, light, airy and colorful. Not what Holly would choose, but Gisele had been right. The combination of gold, green and blue complemented her auburn hair and green eyes. With her height she’d gotten from her mother’s side of the family, the dress length was perfect, exposing her trim calves.
The whole effect made her look less tired and more like a girl going to a party.
“All right then,” she said to her reflection. The night was looking up.
She stuffed her damp clothing into the bag, fluffed her hair and added a touch of lipstick. In a hurry to get back out to where her cousin and friends were, she flung open the door and charged out of the bathroom into the dimly lit hallway and promptly bumped into a wall of muscles.
Hands gripped her arms to steady her.
Holly looked up into the ice-blue eyes of the man who’d come to her rescue earlier. “Oh. It’s you.”
He nodded. “Yes, it is. Are you all right?”
“Of course,” she said, suddenly conscious of how low the dress rested on the swell of her breasts. With little effort, the top could be tugged even lower to display all. Not that she’d do that in front of this man. Or that he’d be tempted to do it himself—and certainly not in public.
Her body heated as her thoughts spiraled.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I have to go.”
Before I spontaneously combust.
