Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)

Not the first time Isabel had heard that statement, she thought grimly.

“What are these?” Madeline asked, walking into the back room. “Did you go shopping? Where did you get the jacket? I love it. And this dress.”

She held up the purple one.

“Dellina’s friend designed them,” Isabel said. “Do you two know each other?”

“Sure,” Dellina said. “Those are Margo’s designs.”

Madeline sighed. “You said she was great, but I’ve only heard about the designs.” Her expression brightened. “Are you going to carry them here at the store? Will you offer an employee discount?”

“I was telling her about the family selling Paper Moon after the first of the year,” Isabel said.

Madeline shook her head. “Don’t talk about that. I finally found a job I love.”

“I’m sure the new owners will want to keep you on,” Isabel told her, determined to put in a good word for her employee. “Besides, that’s months away.”

She looked from the clothes Madeline held, back to the window. “I’m not going to worry about the fate of the store right now. Dellina, if you want to put your friend’s clothes in the window, you can. If someone wants to buy them, we’ll figure out what we’re doing then.”

Dellina grinned. “I agree.”

She and Madeline started dressing the two mannequins. Isabel left them to it and went to the front of the store. When they were ready, she would go out and check the display from the sidewalk.

This was good experience, she told herself. For when she and Sonia opened their own business. Retail was a different world, and selling original designs was even more specialized than wedding gowns.

Isabel picked up the price sheet Dellina had brought with her. It listed the inventory Margo had in her house and how long it would take to make a dress in a size other than what she had on hand. She could—

The front door to Paper Moon opened. Isabel looked up and smiled automatically. It was only when she recognized the other woman that her smile became a little forced and her throat got dry and tight.

Denise Hendrix looked around the store, spotted her and headed directly over.

Ford’s mother didn’t bother with a lot of chitchat, but instead went right to the heart of the matter.

“Are you really dating my son?”

* * *

FORD OPENED THE REFRIGERATOR, then handed Isabel a diet soda. She took the can but didn’t open it.

“You don’t understand,” she repeated, glaring at him. “I had to lie to your mother.”

“I know. You’ve told me.” More than once. “You knew what we were doing when you agreed.”

She slapped his upper arm. “Knowing and experiencing are two different things. She was there, in my store, looking at me. I had to stare into her trusting eyes and lie. Do you know what that was like?”

“Yes,” he admitted, ignoring the sensation of his collar getting tight. After all, he was in a T-shirt. He didn’t have a collar.

Isabel shook her head. “It was so horrible. The way she watched me. It’s like she knew I was lying.”

“She didn’t know. My mom raised six kids. She does guilt the way other people breathe.” He put his arm around her. “Come on. We’ll talk this out and you’ll feel better.”

She stepped out of his embrace. “Being charming isn’t going to help.”

“It might.” He was good at charm. “Look, Isabel, I’m doing the best I can. You think I like this? I agree—everything would be a whole lot simpler if I could just fall in love. But I can’t.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Have you tried?”

“Yes. I come from a long line of happy marriages. I don’t have any serious emotional trauma in my past. I like women. I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

Her gaze held his for a long time before she nodded. “Fine,” she said with a sigh and popped the top on her can of soda. “I know you’re not torturing me on purpose. It was just icky.”

“I know. I owe you.”

“More than you know. Your mother invited us over to a big family dinner.”

“I’ll delay as long as I can.”

“You’d better.” Her mouth twisted.

Oddly, her discomfort made him like her more. She was an honest person and it troubled her to be deceptive. This situation was his fault.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.

“Yeah? I’m thinking the only way that’s going to happen is if you learn how to iron a wedding gown.”

* * *

“WHY DO I FEEL guilty?” Noelle asked, glancing uneasily over her shoulder.

“Because Jo has us all trained.” Charlie squared her shoulders, as if determined not to give in to the pressure. “We aren’t required to go to her bar for lunch every time. It’s good to support all the businesses in Fool’s Gold.”

Isabel grinned. “Keep saying that, and maybe it will be true one day.”