Tre closed his mouth and then opened and then closed it again. “I’ve lost all respect for Roberto Modesto. And for your man.” He stepped behind her and tugged on the back of the dress. “Maybe it’s a knockoff.”

“Does it really matter? It’s terrible.” Being conservatively dressed was one thing, but this went beyond anything Ann Taylor or Talbots could have dreamed up.

Tre pulled at the waist. “Maybe there’s a belt or something.” From behind, he pulled at the material, trying to give the dress some shape. That actually made it worse. “It’s maternity meets matronly meets kitchen curtains. But hey, the color’s really nice—it’s perfect for your skin tone, and it makes your eyes even darker blue.”

He tilted his head to the left and then to the right. “Maybe you have it on wrong?”

“I’ve been getting dressed for years. I’m pretty sure I know how to put on a gown.”

“This isn’t the week to be touting your dressing prowess.” Tre shot her a one-eyebrow-up look.

He had a point. Harmony undid the single button at the back that was holding the dress closed and stepped out of it.

They spent the next five minutes looking for another way to put it on, but the armholes made it pretty clear how the dress was supposed to be worn.

“Could it be inside out?” Harm checked to make sure the tag was on the inside.

“Put it back on.” Tre steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “Maybe it got all discombobulated in transit. Put it on again, and maybe the ruffles will lie down. That’s it. Too much handling made it extra poufy.”

She slipped the dress back over her head.

Lyric walked into the room and looked Harmony up and down. “Why are you wearing a blue chiffon trash bag with ruffles?”

Wow, if Lyric—who thought high fashion was wearing her glittery red Converse court shoes—thought it was bad, the dress must be even worse than she’d thought.

“It looks like the dress Momma picked out for Great Aunt Lucille to be buried in. Except hers was prettier.” Lyric sat down on the bed. “Great color, though.”

“Yes, that blue is beautiful.” Tre’s nose screwed up. “I don’t know about the dress.” He sat down next to Lyric. “Dalton sent it over for her to wear at the cocktail party. It’s Roberto Modesto.”

“Is he a clothing designer?” Lyric asked.

Considering the dress, it was a fair question. Harmony looked down at the dress that had swallowed her whole. “He claims to be.”

Lyric drew her knees up to her chest. “What if it’s just a starting point? You know, like Dalton is having it completely custom made for you. This is like the foundation that they build from—or in this case take away.” She sounded so hopeful. “Like when men have a suit custom made. It starts out as just fabric, and then there’s a man with a tape measure around his neck who pins stuff and makes it into a suit.”

Tre sighed like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. “That must be it. This is just the material and there’s a dressmaker on their way here right now.”

Everyone froze, waiting for the doorbell to ring. Nothing but dead air.

“They’re probably stuck in traffic.” Tre didn’t sound convinced. “You have three days until the party. Plenty of time.”

“You’re right. No one in their right mind would take this for a dress.” Harmony slipped out of it and back into her jeans and T-shirt. Carefully, she hung it up. The dressmaker would probably contact her soon. Until then, it would stay in her closet. There were a million and one other things she needed to worry about right now.

Tomorrow, a production team contracted by Food Network was headed over to measure the kitchen, take light readings, and do several other things Holly’s assistant Max had mentioned but Harm couldn’t remember. It was hard to believe that in five days, she would be Food Network’s newest and hopefully brightest star.

“When’s Dalton coming over tonight?” Tre yawned.

“He’s not. He’s working late into the night, and I need to pick out three recipes I’m planning on using in the pilot.” She couldn’t decide what three items best showcased her talent.

“So exciting.” Tre’s grin morphed into another yawn. “I’m going to bed. I’ve been up for thirty-six hours straight. The life of a flight attendant isn’t as glamorous as you’ve been led to believe.” He stifled another yawn. “See y’all in the morning.”

“Night, Tre.” Lyric blew him a kiss.

Harmony gave him a brief hug. “Get some sleep.”Harmony waited until he’d left the room to share the news about Momma. “He hung up on Momma again today.” Harmony had been tempted to answer the phone one of the dozen times Momma had called today, but she’d made a promise to let Heath and Tre handle things. “I’m surprised she hasn’t driven up here to yell at me in person.”

“Don’t you mean us?” Lyric raised her hand like she wa

s volunteering for something. “She blames me for your downfall. I moved all the way to Hawaii to get away from her … remind me why I came back?”

Tags: Tracy Wolff Fort Worth Wranglers Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net