Page 11 of Curious Hearts (The Healing Hearts #2)

CHAPTER TEN

“Waffle, I have nothing to wear,” Ali announced to her three-legged golden retriever, who thumped his tail against the bedroom floor. Chairman Meow, curled on the windowsill, opened his one eye to regard the growing pile of rejected clothing with disdain.

Ali stood in the middle of her bedroom, surrounded by evidence of her wardrobe crisis.

Her skin felt too sensitive, like every piece of fabric she’d tried on had left an imprint.

.. one that branded her not good enough.

Then her thoughts would flip-flop to thinking about how Jessica would look tonight—probably devastating in some perfectly tailored outfit that would make Ali’s mouth go dry.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, picking up her phone. “I’m a grown woman with several degrees and a doctorate, for fuck’s sake. I should own at least one decent outfit that doesn’t have kibble in the pockets.”

In desperation, she’d excavated the back of her closet, unearthing the black pantsuit she’d purchased for job interviews eight years ago. The pants had somehow shrunk an inch in the waist, and the jacket had developed mysterious spots during its hibernation.

“Why am I even stressing about this?” she asked Chairman Meow, who blinked.

Her voice sounded breathless even to her own ears.

Because you want to look good for her, a traitorous part of her mind whispered.

“It’s just a professional courtesy. I’m going to help with the cats, not impress her parents. ”

The cat’s expression suggested he wasn’t in the least convinced.

“Fine. I need reinforcements.”

Twenty minutes later, her doorbell rang. Ali flung it open to find Kristi and Fenna, each balancing a twin on one hip.

“The cavalry has arrived,” Kristi announced, stepping inside with six-month-old Usha. “Complete with fashion consultants-in-training.”

“Sorry about the mess. I’ve tried on everything I own.”

“Hence the SOS text,” Fenna laughed, adjusting Flor’s position. “Kristi said it was bad.”

“It is! The dinner is in two hours, and I have nothing to wear. Jessica’s parents are some kind of Denver society royalty, and apparently her mother ‘believes anything less than cocktail dress is practically sleepwear.’” Ali mimicked Jessica’s precise diction, her body warming at the memory of Jessica’s voice.

“Okay, let’s see what we’re working with,” Kristi said, surveying the clothing carnage. “You weren’t kidding about the flannel.”

“I work with animals! They don’t care if I’m wearing this season’s latest trends.”

“Fair point,” Fenna said. “But dinner with the Taylors requires something more sophisticated.”

“What about this?” Fenna asked, reaching into the very back of Ali’s closet. She pulled out a garment bag.

“I forgot about that,” Ali admitted. “My cousin’s wedding three years ago.”

She unzipped the bag to reveal a sapphire blue dress. Simple but elegant.

“This could work,” Kristi said, examining the fabric. “The color is perfect for you.”

“It probably doesn’t even fit.”

“Try it on,” Fenna encouraged.

Fifteen minutes later, Ali stood in the bathroom, the silk dress clinging to curves she usually hid under loose clothing.

Her breath caught as she imagined Jessica’s eyes on her, traveling over the exposed skin of her shoulders, the way the fabric hugged her waist. She didn’t remember it looking this good at her cousin’s wedding.

“When was the last time you used heat on your hair?” Kristi asked, wielding a straightening iron.

“Does standing too close to a bonfire count?”

As Kristi worked on her hair and Fenna applied makeup, Ali’s thoughts drifted to Jessica. Would she notice the effort? Would her eyes linger the way Ali’s did whenever Jessica moved? The possibility sent heat pooling low in her belly, only to be wiped away with that awful rush of self-doubt.

“Why am I even doing this?” she wondered aloud. “I’m just the cat therapist.”

“And yet, here we are,” Kristi teased. “Getting dolled up for ‘just another client.’”

“Her parents sound intense. I don’t want to embarrass her.”

“Or maybe you want to impress her?” Fenna suggested.

Heat scorched Ali’s cheeks. “It’s not like that,” she insisted, though her racing pulse said otherwise.

“Right,” Kristi said, exchanging a knowing look with Fenna. “And I’m sure you put this much effort into all your clients.”

“I don’t!”

“Remember the Hendersons’ consultation? You wore yoga pants with holes in.”

“That was different. I wasn’t having dinner with them.”

“Mmhmm,” Kristi hummed.

“It’s complicated.”

“The best ones usually are,” Fenna said, applying blush to Ali’s cheeks. “Hold still, you’re flushing enough without this.”

Ali’s skin tingled where the brush touched, already hypersensitive.

“I like her, okay?” Ali’s voice dropped to a whisper. “More than I should. But there’s so many reasons why it’s a bad idea.”

“Such as?”

Ali ticked them off on her fingers. “She’s a client. She’s from a completely different world. She probably isn’t even into women. And...” Her voice caught as she remembered how Jessica had looked that morning, casual in jeans and a sweater, somehow even more attractive than in her business attire.

“And you’re scared,” Fenna finished softly.

The silence that followed was answer enough.

“What if I can’t handle another crash? I’ve put myself back together once...”

“You’re not the same person you were then,” Fenna said firmly. “You’re stronger.”

“Maybe.” Ali didn’t sound convinced. “But she’s this successful woman with a penthouse downtown, and I’m...”

“A brilliant woman who’s built a nonprofit from the ground up,” Fenna interrupted. “Who also cleans up beautifully when she tries. There.” Fenna stepped back. “What do you think?”

Ali turned to the mirror, surprised by the transformation. The dress accentuated her figure in ways her usual clothes never did. Her hair fell in waves and her lips, tinted pink, looked fuller somehow. She imagined Jessica’s gaze on her and shivered.

“Wow,” she said softly. “I look...”

“Beautiful,” Fenna finished. “And still like you.”

After finding shoes and adding a little jewelry, Ali stood before the mirror one last time.

The woman looking back was, as Fenna said, still her, but amplified—more confident, more sensual.

She wondered if Jessica would look at her differently tonight, if those dark eyes would show the same heat Ali felt building inside.

“Promise to tell us everything,” Fenna said as they prepared to leave.

“Just remember what you tell your anxious patients,” Kristi added. “Sometimes the safest path isn’t the one that leads to healing.”

After they left, Ali checked her reflection once more. Her body hummed with nervous energy, skin alive with anticipation. She pressed her palms against her thighs, trying to calm the flutter in her stomach.

Chairman Meow appeared in the doorway.

“Don’t give me that look,” Ali told him. “It’s purely professional.”

The cat blinked slowly.

“Fine, maybe it’s more than that,” she admitted. “Maybe I want her to see me as more than just the quirky animal behaviorist. Maybe I want her to look at me the way I look at her when she doesn’t notice.”

Ali grabbed her clutch and headed for the door, her pulse quickening with each step. In no time, she’d be in Jessica’s house, watching her navigate family dynamics, sitting close enough to catch her perfume, maybe even touching—a hand on an arm, fingers brushing as they passed dishes.

Tonight was supposed to be about cats and helping out a client. But her body had other ideas entirely.