Page 55 of Take Me Home for Christmas

Absolutely not. “No, thank you,” I managed. “I?—”

“Give us just a minute.” Brax steered me over to an aisle of faux-fur-lined evening jackets and crossed his arms.

I knew that stance. That was hisBianca-you-need-to-take-this-pill-right-nowstance. His take-no-prisoners posture. “You’re being stubborn.”

“You’rebeing stubborn,” I replied. “I could easily find something in my closet.”

He lifted a skeptical brow. “This is not the event to wear acirca2007 prom dress to.”

One for him. Unless I wanted to show up a bubble-gum-pink dress with sequins and red five-inch heels with bows that I had no idea why my practical mother ever let me buy, he was right.

“That dress costs as much as a paycheck,” I said. “Plus, you need special undies to wear with it.” Not to mention proper shoes. “And it’s three o’clock.” Meaning we had T minus four hours.

“It’s not that much. And I’m sure Claudia could help with all that—er—other stuff.” I started to leave, but he held me back. “How about this? You try it on, and if it doesn’t fit, we’re done here.”

“Okay, fine.” I was pretty sure I’d seen that old prom dress hanging in my closet. Along with a few short, inappropriate-for-a-wedding-celebration black dresses from my sorority days. And not much else.

Claudia walked over to a fitting room door, the dress shimmering over her arm.

I went in and, despite my practical cotton bra and undies, tried it on.

Drat.It fit. To perfection. I pushed back the curtain.

Brax was sitting on a pink velvet settee, checking his phone. He glanced up when I walked onto the trying-on dais in front of a three-way mirror.

And then he dropped his phone. He blinked a few times. Cleared his throat.

Oh wow. Maybe this dress was worth the credit card debt after all.

“Mia, I…it’s…” I’d never seen him lose his words. “You’re a frickingknockout.”

I probably turned the same color as the dress. I shook my head in denial at his words, but they ran over me as smoothly as hot fudge sauce. And from the look in his eyes, I could tell he meant them.

Claudia came rushing over. “C’est belle! Magnifique!”

“It’s very beautiful,” I agreed cautiously. “But I have to think about it.”

“I recommend you think fast,” she said. “That woman in the orange jumpsuit who just left is thinking about it too.” She dropped her voice. “But it looks better on you.”

Okay, she was good. But still. I went back inside the fitting room and sent a quick selfie to Gabe, my fashion consultant.

He responded before I had my shoes back on. “Damn, girl, buy that immediately!”

Okay, so no help there either.

I liked the dress. Ireallyliked Brax’s win-the-lottery reaction. But it was only a silly party.

“I’ll think about the dress, okay?” I said to Brax as we walked out a few minutes later. “Maybe I’ll have time to run into Madison this afternoon.”

“I thought we were helping Dina and Liam wrap Emma’s gifts and watching you and your sibs put up your ornaments from when you were kids.”

I groaned. “My mother makes everything a tradition.” She was especially fond of those little crafty ornaments from grade school that she kept in special labeled boxes for each one of us.

“Ice cream,” he said, pointing to our local creamery a few doors down. “That makes everyone think better.”

I glanced up to the La Petite Poussine window, where Claudia was putting sparkly earrings into a display.

Ugh, I hadn’t even brought jewelry. I guess I did a poor job stifling my groan, because Brax glanced over. “There’s no way short of a fairy godmother I could put myself together before tonight.” I counted off on my fingers: “Dress, underwear, shoes, jewelry.” I thought of something else. “Plus, that dress is for something more important than an ex’s wedding reception.”

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