Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)

“This is the third dress I’ve tried on and they’re all awful.”


Isabel glanced toward the pictures carefully torn out of a bridal magazine. “Your choices are really lovely, but I have some different ideas. Would you mind if I picked a couple of dresses for you to try?” She smiled. “Trust me, Lauren. I know how to make your bridal dress dreams come true.”

Lauren sniffed. “It doesn’t matter. Dave is going to change his mind when he sees me in this dress.”

“He’s not, but it doesn’t matter because I won’t let you buy that dress. No bride is allowed to buy a dress here at Paper Moon unless she loves it and looks like a princess. My grandmother was very strict about that.”

Isabel unzipped the dress, then handed her a thick terry cloth robe. “Put this on and meet me outside.”

Three minutes later Lauren appeared. The robe looked as bad on her as the dress, but as she wasn’t wearing it down the aisle, it wouldn’t matter.

“This way,” Isabel said, leading her to a small alcove to the left side of the dressing room. She guided Lauren into a chair in front of a mirror.

“Open that top drawer. You’ll find mascara samples. Put some on. You get to keep the sample, by the way, so let me know if you like it. I can tell you where to buy it.”

Lauren leaned toward the mirror and dried her eyes, then applied the mascara. Isabel got a brush from a drawer and ran it through the other woman’s shoulder-length hair. With a few well-placed pins, she managed a fairly nice twist that added a little volume on the sides.

When that was done, she pulled up a stool and sat, then opened more drawers. She swept dark shadow along the creases of Lauren’s eyelids, then added blush on her cheeks.

“No lip gloss,” she said gently. “You’ll get it on my dresses and then I’ll have to kill you.”

Lauren managed a shaky smile. “That might solve my problems.”

“You won’t say that when I’m done with you, young lady. Now come on. I’m going to show you a Vera Wang dress that is going to leave you breathless.”

Hope filled Lauren’s brown eyes. “You promise?”

“Yes. I promise. I’m very good at what I do and I refuse to let you ruin my record. Because this isn’t about you—it’s about me.”

This time the smile was more genuine. “Thank you,” Lauren whispered.

“You’re welcome.” Isabel squeezed her hand and started to stand. As she did, she saw movement in the mirror and realized Ford was standing in the doorway to the dressing area.

She ignored the sudden tightness in her chest and the way she felt lighter inside. As if some bubble of happiness gave her a little lift. She also ignored the broadness of his shoulders and the way his worn jeans hugged his hips and thighs.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “There’s too much estrogen in the air. If you hang out back here, you’ll grow br**sts.”

He gave her a slow, sexy grin. “I’ll risk it.”

Lauren looked at him in the mirror. “Wow,” she whispered.

“I know,” Isabel told her. “Now let’s go find you a dress.”

She picked out three simple gowns made of gorgeous fabric with just enough detailing to make them elegant. Lauren looked doubtful but agreed to try them on and went back into the dressing room.

“Why are you here?” Isabel asked again, walking up to Ford. “Do not tell me it’s about the fake-girlfriend thing because there are sharp objects in this store and I’m not afraid to use them.”

He studied her. “You were great with her. The bride. I saw how you calmed her down.”

“Thanks. I learned from a master. My grandmother believed a beautiful bride was a happy bride.”

He glanced around. “You sell a lot of stuff.”

“It takes a village. And accessories. So what’s up?”

“I need you to be my fake girlfriend. Hear me out,” he added when she started to protest. “Two of my sisters came to see me today.”

“And that is my problem how?”

“They’re my sisters. They’re relentless. They started going on about how Mom just wants me to be happy and that I had to go out with some of the women who had applied.” His expression turned helpless. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Grow a pair and tell them no?”

“They’re family.”

A simple statement she completely understood. Family made life complicated.

“I said it was you,” he told her.

“What?”

“I told Dakota and Montana I was dating you.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Honestly, what was she supposed to say to that?

“Listen,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I’m desperate. I’ll do anything. Wash your car, paint your house. I’ll give you money. Please. Just for a few weeks. Long enough to get my mom off my back.”