Page 51 of Theirs for the Holidays

“Did I tell you about the issue with the flowers?”

I shake my head.

“So Mom is all about these damned poinsettias. Which, I get it. Winter wedding, winter flower. But they don’t come in the right color from the place we’re getting all the other flowers from.”

She talks about the flowers and the DJ, who she’s had to talk down from several Christmas themed remixes on their set list, and I nod and make the proper comments, trying to be supportive.

Isabelle just really wants to hear herself talk and get things off her chest, so it makes it easy to just nod along with whatever she says.

“How are the sleeves, love?” the seamstress asks, standing up straight to look at the sleeves of my dress.

It’s an empire waisted gown, which skims over my stomach in a way that looks more flattering than I expected. The neckline shows off quite a bit of my chest, and the sleeves aren’t too tight.

“I think they’re perfect,” I tell her.

“Lift your arms like this?”

I mirror her pose, and the sleeves don’t pull too snug. The seamstress nods. “Perfect. We just need to adjust the hem for you, then.”

The fitting wraps up after not too much longer, and I breathe a sigh of relief, ready to stop being poked and prodded at. The seamstress is working on the final alterations with Isabelle when I hear something at the door.

I turn, and I’m surprised to see Lennox, Sawyer, and Rhett standing in the main part of the boutique, looking at me through the doorway.

All three of them have this look in their eyes that makes my heart race. They come forward, stepping into the fitting room as a unit.

“Damn,” Sawyer says, his eyes traveling up and down the dress—and my body. “You look amazing.”

Lennox nods. “That is a beautiful color on you.”

Rhett doesn’t say anything, but he keeps looking at me, and I notice it when he wrenches his eyes away from my cleavage.

My cheeks flush at their praise, and I shyly tuck hair behind my ear. “Thanks,” I reply. “Isabelle picked out the dress.”

I glance at her and notice she has a sour look on her face, but I just ignore it for now, turning back to my “boyfriends.”

“What are you doing here?”

“We came to take you out to dinner after your fitting,” Rhett answers.

I smile at him, at all of them. “That’s nice of you. And I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“And let me guess,” Lennox says. “Lunch was a pastry?”

“A pastry andsome fruit, thank you very much,” I shoot back with a grin.

He shakes his head. “We’re getting some real food in you.”

“I won’t complain about that.”

Isabelle steps off the platform in a rustle of fabric now that the seamstress is finished, tossing her hair imperiously. “Andrew is coming to pick me up too,” she says. “He should be here soon.”

“That’s nice of him,” I say simply.

“You’re both all done,” the seamstress says. “We’ll make the alterations and then call you when they’re finished. If the gentlemen could step out so these ladies can get back in their clothes?”

The guys leave, and Isabelle and I get out of the dresses and back into our regular clothes. We hang everything up, careful of the pins in them, and then step back out into the shop proper.

All three of the guys are still looking at me the way they were before, and my stomach swoops to realize that. It looks like they want to eat me up, even though I’m just standing there in jeans and a sweater with my hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.