Running Back (New York Leopards 2)

Her mother and sister swatted her.

“Ryan called and said he and Rachael are stopping by after her work trip in Italy, and that Malcolm and Bri might fly over as sort of a last fling before training starts. You in?”

Paris. For a fleeting moment I juggled ticket prices, but then a line of can-can dancers kicked through my budget. “I’m in.”

* * *

Lauren stopped by the library the next evening while I went over data. “Hey. Just wanted to check—do you have a dress?”

I blinked at her. “What?”

“Thought not. My brother’s a space shot. You’re going somewhere fancy, right? He’ll almost definitely get a tux delivered to the hotel.”

“He didn’t say we were going anywhere.”

She just gave me an oh-poor-you look. “You’re meeting up with Rach and Bri? You’re going somewhere fancy. It’ll be for charity. But it will also be for dresses.”

I frowned uncertainly. “I have that black dress I wore for the month’s mind...”

She dropped down next to me, shaking her head. “Nope. Won’t cut it. Don’t worry, you can rent cocktail dresses online and have them delivered to your hotel. Easy.”

I stared at her. “Crazy.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” She pulled the computer toward her and started a search. “Look, this site has two hundred different options. And it’s in English.”

“I speak French,” I muttered. But I was already being drawn into the sparkly gowns, which Lauren clicked through without stopping, until we reached one golden ball gown that made us both oooh.

“Maybe over the top, but see? You can find something nice.”

I suffered a thirty-second moral quandary about spending money renting a dress, and then the dress won.

Anna wandered in ten minutes later. “What are you guys doing?”

“Renting a dress in Paris for Nat.”

She plopped down beside us and tore open a bag of chips. Crisps. Whatever. “Sweet. Don’t get that one, it’s ugly. That one’s super skanky. No, that’s gross.”

Kate joined us after another twenty minutes. “What are you all studying so diligently?”

“Dresses,” we chorused, in what was possibly the twee-est moment of my life.

We narrowed it down to three choices—a long lavender gown Lauren thought would go well with my hair and eyes; a short black thing Anna favored, though I wasn’t so sure about the weird puff of fabric on the sleeve, and a short, simply cut silver dress with a boat neckline. It was kind of weird but appealing nonetheless.

“Hey, what size are your feet?”

I hadn’t even thought about shoes. “Nine-and-a-half.” They all made faces. “What? What sizes are you?”

“I’m a six,” Anna said.

I stared at her. “Are you serious?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “They’re beautiful too. I have beautiful feet.”

“She does.” Kate smiled fondly. “She gets them from me.”

I turned to Lauren in astonishment. She shook her head. “I’m no Cinderella, but my feet are still smaller. Just think of it as an excuse to buy fancy French shoes.”

“But I don’t wear fancy shoes.”