Page 1 of Dress Rescue
1
Sara
“And then Bobby said Liam was the best accountant they’ve ever had. I tell you, Sara, I’ve never been more proud in all my life. All those big and powerful men, standing around, talking about how wonderful my husband is. Liam thinks they’re going to give him a raise soon. And then we can move into that big house we’ve been dreaming about. The one with the swimming pool and the home cinema room.”
“That’s nice.”
I keep my head down and continue sorting through a big batch of clothes. It’s just like my sister, Amelia, to turn up unannounced so she can brag about how good her life is.
“And what about you?” she asks, “is there anyone special in your life.”
“Not yet.”
I try to keep the emotion out of my voice, but it’s hard. Amelia knows I don’t have a boyfriend.
“Oh, God, Sara. You really need to hurry up. The clock is ticking, you know? You’re not going to be young forever. And it’s not like a lot of men are looking for a woman with your kind of figure.”
I spin around. Tired of her bullshit. “And what kind of figure is that?” I say.
It’s no secret that Amelia is the better-looking sister. She was the popular one at school. The one that all the boys wanted to spend time with and ask out on dates.
I was the geeky fat nerd. My best friend was a cuddly horse called Trevor.
“No need to get all triggered,” Amelia says, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. It wouldn’t do any harm for you to lose a few pounds, would it?”
There’s a steaming hot iron just inches from my hand. Somehow, I resist the urge to slam it into my stuck-up, bitch of a sister’s face. My mom would never forgive me.
DING!
The door to the shop opens. I welcome the excuse to get away from my sibling, and this conversation.
“Hello? Anyone there?” A deep, male voice calls out from the front of the shop.
“Coming!” I say, weaving my way through the back room, without making eye contact with Amelia.
Hopefully, she’ll be gone soon. Off to get her hair done or have her nails painted or just sit around at home drinking wine smiling about how pretty and rich she is.
“What can I do for you?” I ask.
The man on the other side of the counter is huge. Handsome, too. There are little flecks of dust in his hair. And he’s wearing a plaid shirt that barely fits over his oversized arms and chest.
“Cupid sent me,” he says.
I look into his piercing green eyes. His jaw is big and square with a deep, stubble-clad dimple right in the middle of his chin.
My tummy tightens.
“What?” I giggle. “Cupid?”
“Yeah.” He runs his fingers through his thick main of hair. It’s going grey at the sides. Giving him a sexy as hell, older guy kind of look. “Cupid? He was working at a dive bar on the other side of town last night. I’ve got this dress, and all the other dry cleaners in town have turned me down. But he said you would be able to help.”
“Oh!” I nod my head. “Cupid! I know who you mean. Tall guy? Blonde hair and purple eyes? The best handwriting I’ve ever seen. He did all the signage on our store.”
The huge, handsome man turns around and looks at our shop window. “I thought it looked familiar,” he says.
We both stand still for a second. Looking at the loopy golden writing, printed perfectly on the big glass window that looks out onto the street.
The sun is hitting it just right. Lighting up the words and making the outside world look like some strange, fantasy land where nothing can go wrong and everyone is always happy and well-fed and falling into the arms of big, dark strangers with hearts of gold and cocks of steel.
