I climbed inside the get-up and tried to pull the back together. Aunt DeeDee had done a great job with my measurements, but after a couple of minutes, I’d still only been able to get the bottom five buttons fastened. I turned around and studied the rest of the open back in the mirror. There were at least ten more buttons climbing up my spine. I’d spoken too soon about being able to dress myself. I could almost see the horror on the other women’s faces if I stepped into the Gilded Age that evening with an open-back dress that should be very closed. This wouldn’t do.
I texted Lacy to see if she had time to finish pulling me together, but she was now in the 2010s, setting up the K-pop band cutouts. Resisting the urge to beg, I rifled through the other gowns, thinking maybe I could switch them out. I found a slinky dress with colorful flowers fanning across the front, and another one that looked like something bridezilla might wear. The last was in a bag, and when I unzipped it, yellow—a lot of yellow—assaulted my eyes. These clothes were suited for other purposes, and I needed to fit in tonight.
I glanced at my open back in the mirror again, and then desperate, I cracked my front door to see if I could spot a fellowcontestant walking past. This was a sisterhood, right? Surely someone—even Piper or Jemma—would take pity on me and my unreachable buttons.
A light rain had begun to fall again. I looked at the black flats and then down at the bottom of the gown. The dress was so long that I bet I could wear boots and no one would know. But it wouldn’t matter unless I could finish dressing.
I couldn’t quite make out the shadowy figure passing with an umbrella, but I had no choice.
“Hey!” I called. The figure stopped, and I called out again. “Hey, can I get some help?”
I saw the person turn and head toward my voice, but the umbrella still hid their face. When they were only a couple yards from the cottage, a man lifted his head. Sheriff Charlie Strong. Shoot.
“Oh, sorry. Never mind,” I said, nearly shutting the door on his foot as he started through the entryway. I did not want him to see me quite this… exposed.
“It’s fine. What do you need?”
Nothing from you, I wanted to blurt. But that wasn’t quite true.
When I didn’t answer, he seemed almost embarrassed for me. “I was just on my way to the dinner. I was invited as a special guest.”
The sheriff had changed out of his uniform and wore all black with a high-necked scarf-tie thingy. He’d combed the curly hair atop his head, and it grazed the shaved sides. He looked way better than I wanted to admit.
“I’m off duty tonight—as much as I can be.” He lifted his jacket and pointed to the holster he still wore around his back. “A couple of my guys will be patrolling the grounds, so not to worry.”
I hadn’t had time to worry, though perhaps I should’ve been more concerned.
I studied the sheriff’s face in the lamplight of my cottage, realizing that he’d been working for most of the past forty-eight hours. The circles rimming his eyes showed his fatigue.
“Did you get some sleep?” I asked.
He smiled, appreciating my question. “A couple hours.”
“I was… I was trying to button this,” I stammered, moving my hand behind me. “And I thought Lacy would be here to help, but I guess she’s busy and?—”
He turned me around, his hand drifting over my shoulder. “These are kind of tricky.” His fingers brushed against the small of my back as he struggled with the buttons. “I’m impressed that you got this far on your own.”
His breath was warm on my neck, and a rush of heat ran down my entire body. He fumbled with one or two, but for the most part, his hands were quick and efficient as his fingers roamed up my spine, pausing for a few seconds at each buttonhole. Moments later he spun me around, and his eyes grazed my breasts before darting to the ground. A flutter low in my belly wasn’t helping matters.
“You’re good to go,” he said, seeming to force himself to take the smallest step away from me. “You look… you look lovely.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
“You can call me Charlie… if you want.” He halted. “I’m glad I ran into you.”
“You didn’t exactly run into me.”
“Well, then, I’m glad you desperately needed to be buttoned.” He gave a quick smile.
“How’s my aunt?” I asked, trying not to frown at him since he’d offered me much-needed help.
“She’s fine. I spoke to her about an hour ago.”
“You mean you questioned her?”
He almost blushed. “Well, yes. It’s just, she’s also insisting that Dr. Bellingham is somehow involved in all of this. I was wondering if—as a contestant—you’ve had any run-ins with him?”
“Nothing beyond the tea yesterday morning. There, he struck me as… sleazy.”
