“Weren’t you just complaining about being stuck in the house?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends.”
“You’ll be fine. And they’re not my friends. Just people I know.”
And he wanted me to meet them.
“All right, it’s a date then.”
“A date…” he repeated almost musingly. “I’ll see you tomorrow at sunset.” As quickly as he barged in, Cillian left.
The encounter left me dissecting it more than it probably merited. How had I gone from getting in shit to being told to gussy up for a party? I hit the gym to see if exercise would help me figure Cillian out. Probably not. I’d need more than a handful of meetings for that.
Despite running as fast as the treadmill could go, I didn’t breathe hard. Kind of cool for someone who’d never been really fit. I worked my arms next using a machine that must have made lifting weights easy since I apparently repped over a hundred lbs. Me, who used to struggle toting kitty litter bags.
As I hit my eighty-third chest press, Gwen popped her head in. “Colleen’s here to have a go at your hair.”
“Already?” I’d talked to Cillian just over an hour ago.
“Boss said you needed some mowing. She’s the best. Only person I trust with my head.” Gwen shook her messy, highlighted bob that suited her petite face.
“Tell her I’ll be down in five. I’ll shower quick.”
“Sluice off your body only. She wants to see your hair dry so she can decide how to style it.”
Ominous, but also kind of thrilling. Another Pretty Woman experience.
I ended up seated in the kitchen on a stool feeling self-conscious as Colleen circled me, lifting my hair, staring at my face.
She muttered to Gwen. “Her natural hue is decent. We just need to color the bit of gray she’s got. The cut she has now is all wrong for her face shape, though. I’m thinking layers to frame, curtain bags.” Colleen knew her shit and by the time she finished, damned if I didn’t look young again. A bit of dye so everything matched, a cut and blowout later and my hair had never looked so good. Heck, I’d not been this hot in decades.
Colleen no sooner finished my hair than Yvette arrived with the first load of outfits, including a sparkly sheath that I didn’t remember being part of the order.
I held it up. “I think you brought this by mistake.”
“Nope. It’s yours,” Yvette stated. “Cillian called and said you were attending a holiday gala.”
“Isn’t this too shiny?” The fabric glittered each time it moved. Definitely attention getting.
“It’s perfect. Trust me.”
Might as well. Yvette probably knew better than me what to expect. The day—ahem, night—went by more quickly than expected as Yvette had a friend bring over a collection of shoes and handbags. While I’d never been a person who invested much in shoes—I had exactly four pairs: running shoes, boots, shiny leather flats for going out, and sandals—I couldn’t help but get excited as Horace insisted I needed a pair of silver-hued heels, a black set, over the knee boots, and more. The only thing I had to rein him back on was the height of some of the ankle-twisting shoes he tried to convince me I needed. I’d never been good with stilettos.
By the time the visitors left, it was time for bed. A good thing sunrise acted like a knockout punch or else my excitement—and anxiety—might have kept me awake. I conked and woke at sunset, practically leaping from the bed. I chugged my blood so fast, it took my hungry stomach a minute to realize I’d filled it. I hit the shower, sluicing and shaving—legs, pits and cooch. While I didn’t plan to have sex, I liked to be prepared just in case. Not to mention, the ritual, in and of itself, felt familiar. When prepping for a date, especially with someone new, I always went all out.
Before Gwen had a chance to knock at the door I sensed her presence and flung it open with a grin. “Let me guess, Colleen’s here to do my hair and face.”
“Yup. Boss says you’ve got an hour before you have to leave.”
It took me less than that to get ready. My locks didn’t need as much time to prep as they held their shape overnight rather well, and as for my makeup…
“Colleen, this is amazing,” I said staring at myself in the mirror. I would have never attempted to carry off a smoky eyed look with a bright red lipstick. Surely it was too much. I barely recognized myself. In a good way, though. I looked like a supermodel.
As soon as Colleen finished. Gwen sent me to my room to dress. The silver sheath went on like a glove, hugging the curves that were once more in the right places. I had only a few pounds left to lose at this point. The short hem had me wondering if perhaps I should change, but a knock at the door and a shouted, “Boss is waiting,” by Gwen let me know I’d run out of time.
Oh well. If Cillian didn’t like it then he could send me back upstairs for an outfit swap. I had a simple black cocktail dress that might be more appropriate.
I headed down the stairs, careful of the two-inch heels I wore, watching each step lest I trip. As I hit the main level, a low whistle jerked my head upright.
