Page 15 of Of Heather and Thistle
Heather hesitated, then sighed in defeat, taking the dress. “Fine, I’ll wear it. But if I trip in these heels and face plant, I’m blaming both of you.”
Ivy squealed with delight. “Deal! I swear, if it were up to you, you’d show up in jeans!”
Heather frowned, opening her mouth to argue, but Mark shot her a look, shaking his head slightly.Let it go.
So, for the next hour, Heather endured Ivy’s transformation process, which involved everything from taming her curls into smooth, glossy waves to applying makeup that felt far more glamorous than she was used to. Mark stayed in the background, offering commentary now and then.
“That eyeliner’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” he quipped.
“It’s called ‘cat-eye,’ Mark,” Ivy snapped without looking up. “And unless you’re volunteering to be a model, stay out of it.”
Heather, meanwhile, was trying not to panic. “This is too much,” she murmured as Ivy applied a final sweep of lipstick—a deep berry shade that perfectly matched the dress.
“It’s exactly enough,” Ivy said, admiring her work. “Now, let’s get you into that dress.” With Ivy’s insistence and Mark’s quips in the background, Heather slipped into the burgundy gown. When she stepped out, the room fell silent.
Ivy gasped, hands on her hips. “I told you! You’ve beenhiding that body under oversized sweaters for way too long.”
Heather flushed. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, really,” Ivy insisted, adjusting the neckline slightly. “It’s criminal, Heather. You could look like this all the time if you just put in a little effort.”
Mark set down his drink, staring at her with wide eyes. “Well, damn… IfMr. Darcydoesn’t fall for this, he might actually be blind.”
Heather looked at herself in Ivy’s full-length mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back. The dress hugged her in all the right places, the silky red fabric draping over her curves like it had been made for her. The cowl neckline, which she’d feared would be too revealing, somehow looked effortless—just the right mix of sultry and sophisticated. And the makeup and hair—well, Ivy had worked actual magic.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” Heather murmured, her cheeks flushing.
“You say, ‘Thank you, Ivy,’ and then you walk into that restaurant like you own the place,” Ivy said, practically bouncing with excitement.
Mark raised a finger like he was making a royal decree. “One condition.”
Heather sighed. “What?”
“You must text me the instant he sees you,” he said. “I simply must know if he reacts like a man in a Regency novel—clutching his chest and whispering“You cannot expect a mere mortal to withstand such beauty!”
Heather laughed despite herself, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “Thanks, guys. Really.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Ivy said, handing her a pair of heels that matched the dress. “You’ve got a date to win.”
She hovered nearby, adjusting the strap of Heather’s dress with her usual confidence as Heather nervously smoothed the fabric over her hips.
“Stop fussing,” Ivy said with a smirk, giving Heather’s curls a final tousle. “You look perfect. Sam’s jaw is gonna hit the floor when he sees you.”
Heather rolled her emerald eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her freckled cheeks. “It’s just dinner.”
“It’s not just dinner,” Ivy shot back, crossing her arms. “It’s you, finally going after what you deserve. And for the record, if he doesn’t treat you like a queen tonight, I’ll throw my coffee at him next time he walks into the shop.”
The sound of a car horn outside cut through their banter. Ivy glanced out the window and let out a low whistle.
“Your chariot awaits. Go knock him dead, babe.”
Heather grabbed her small clutch, giving Ivy a grateful smile.
“Thanks… for everything,” she said.
Ivy gave one last approving nod, a proud smirk on her lips.
“Look at you. My greatest work yet.”
