Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(29)

Still, she hesitated.

Time to play a round of What Would Bethany Do?

Georgie’s sister would sweep in and walk straight into a changing room, rattling off her measurements without looking up from her phone. Clothes would be brought to her for approval. No perusing racks for Bethany Castle. Oh no. She didn’t buy clothes. The clothes needed to be sold to her.

To be fair, Georgie could do things Bethany wasn’t capable of. She could juggle five oranges, could make scarves come out of people’s ears, and had the ability to stop a child’s tears in under five seconds. Her other non-clown-related skills included making her own bath bombs, gardening, and reciting dialogue from the classic Tom Hanks movie Splash. None of which gave her the push she needed into the shop. This should be easy. She’d even come bearing gifts.

Georgie looked down at the sea salt caramel mocha in her right hand, hoping Boutique Tracy wasn’t lactose intolerant. That would really put a damper on her apology. And Georgie definitely owed her one. The Just Us League meeting had left her with such a good feeling. The support of two women had really dragged her out of her gloom. Now here she stood outside this intimidating, hyperfeminine environment, ready to pay it forward.

“I’m going to count to three,” she whispered. “There will not be a four.”

As soon as the countdown ended, Georgie propelled herself into the shop, coming to a halt when she realized Boutique Tracy had been watching her from the other side of the glass the whole time.

“Well.” Georgie extended the coffee. “This is off to a great start.”

Tracy eyed the to-go coffee cup like it contained slugs. “Can I help you?”

“I just came in to apologize.” She turned in a circle, looking for a place to set down the coffee, deciding on a pretty shelf full of headband/scarf things and a fanned-out stack of the newest sex-themed issue of Cosmopolitan magazine. “You don’t have to accept. But what I did was really mean. I shouldn’t have lied and put you in an embarrassing situation. And I’m sorry about it.”

Nothing from Tracy. Not the slightest twitch.

“Okay, well . . . that’s a sea salt caramel mocha and it’s the shit. I’ll take a sip if you want to make sure it isn’t poisoned—”

“No need.”

Silence fell again. “Gotcha. I’ll be on my way.”

Georgie barely made it to the door when Tracy snagged her elbow. “Wait.” The other woman shifted on her feet. “I didn’t mean what I said about you having short legs.” She sniffed. “But you wear really unflattering pants. I can help you with that, though. Since you did bring me my favorite drink.”

“It’s so good, right?” Georgie whispered.

“Sinfully so.”

And just like that, Georgie was being dragged to the dressing room and stuffed inside. This wasn’t just your average dressing room with two hooks and a bench, though. An antique chair sat wedged in the corner beside a very flattering mirror. Her feet sunk into plush pastel carpeting. And the lighting. My God. This dressing room was an Instagram filter a girl could live inside. Woodsy potpourri smell emanated from all sides, but no matter how many times Georgie turned around, she couldn’t figure out where it had been stuffed.

Overall, it was nice. Really nice. Just standing in the room made her feel important.

“All right, bitch.” Tracy burst through the heavy velvet curtain with an armful of blouses, dresses, skirts, and those headband/scarf things. “Why are you still wearing clothes?”

Panic cut Georgie’s excitement in half. “I didn’t realize you’d have to see me naked. I’m wearing, like, the worst underwear you’ve ever seen.”

Tracy sighed. “Jessica! Panties!”

Thus the transformation began. Over the course of the next hour, Georgie was divested of every piece of clothing on her person, including her basic cotton underpants, sports bra, ancient Skechers, jeans, and hoodie. Left behind in their place, she was fitted with a matching purple silk bra and panty set, a black pencil skirt, a bright blue sleeveless blouse, and sparkling silver pointed-toe flats. Every time a new piece of the ensemble was added, she stood a little straighter. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? They let just anyone dress this fashionable? She looked . . . nice. Really nice.

“This is going to cost me big time, isn’t it?” Georgie said, staring at the unrecognizable girl in the mirror.

Tracy picked some lint off Georgie’s shoulder. “Don’t think of the numbers. Think about how you feel.”

“Easy for you to say, person who works on commission.” Although Georgie couldn’t help but admit . . . wow. Her legs didn’t look the least bit shrimpy now. Had her body always been this shape, or did the mirror possess magic, transformative qualities? The skirt rounded at her hips, cinching at her waist. She had pretty damn decent boobs, too! Who knew? She definitely wouldn’t get seated at the kids’ table in this outfit. Still, she couldn’t exactly dress this way at children’s birthday parties. “Where would I even wear this?”

Tracy groaned. “Why do women believe they need an occasion to dress up? Dress up for life, goddammit!” Finished with her dramatics, Tracy eyeballed Georgie in the mirror. “Any dates coming up, maybe?”

“Yes, actually.” It felt good being able to say that, even if she wasn’t totally sold on Pete.