Foreplay (The Ivy Chronicles #1)(25)

“Hmm,” was all I said, taking a sip of my water.      Staring at my reflection, I hoped the combination of gold and copper highlights      the stylist insisted would make my hair pop wasn’t a      disaster. For what I was spending, it had better look nothing short of      miraculous.

Emerson leaned over and squeezed my hand. “I’m so      glad you’re doing this.”

“Letting you make me over?”

She shrugged. “It’s more than that. This is fun, Pepper. I mean, I love you and you’re a great      study partner and all . . . and it’s nice that you’re always up for a      movie night, but you’ve never been one to join me for a girls’ day at the salon      followed by a night out.”

I resisted pointing out that my budget didn’t      precisely allow for trips to the salon and manicurist. Emerson had never had to      budget for anything in her life. Her credit card bill went straight to her      father. Maybe if I thought she was perfectly happy, I would tease her about      being a spoiled little rich girl, but I didn’t go there. Not knowing what I      did—that she spent most of her holidays alone in an empty house while her father      spent them with his current girlfriend. And I knew almost nothing about her      mother except that she was remarried, and Emerson saw her maybe once a year. She      was proof that money didn’t promise happiness.

Instead, I agreed. “It is nice. A little pampering      now and then doesn’t hurt.”

“Well, if you someday become Mrs. Hunter      Montgomery, I’m sure he’ll make you get lots of pampering.”

I merely smiled. It had never been about Hunter’s      money. It was him. His family. How perfect they all were. I wanted that.

I needed it.

And yet I couldn’t forget one steamy kiss from a      bartender. It frightened me a little. Made me think there might be a little bit      of my mother in me after all. She always did like the bad boys. Men that led her      into trouble. That had been my father before he got his act straight and joined      the Marines. After Daddy, there was no saving her.

But I wasn’t my mother. I would not follow in her      footsteps. I would not repeat her mistakes. I had enough nightmares to live with      already. I refused to add to them.

There was no saving my mother, but I would save      me.

Wow,”      Georgia breathed two hours later when she returned to our suite to find Emerson      and me raiding—collectively—our closets for the perfect ensemble. We had already      gone through mine and moved on to Emerson’s and Georgia’s after Em announced      mine a supreme failure.

Georgia dropped down on her bed, tossing her      backpack to the floor. Her velvety brown eyes scanned my hair. “You look      amazing!”

“Right?” Emerson nodded, preening like a proud      mama, not unjustified. She was responsible for dragging me to the salon in the      first place. She had made the appointments and wouldn’t take no for an answer      until I agreed to go. “Now we need the right outfit.”

I held up a blue and yellow checkered skirt that      Emerson had just forced into my hands. “Help me, Georgie. Even if I could fit      into Em’s clothes, they’re not me. I can’t pull it off.” I looked back at      Emerson, who was now pulling out a tiny orange tank top from her drawer. My eyes      widened helplessly. “Please. Just let me wear something from my closet.”

Emerson waved the scrap of orange at me.

“I’ll freeze in that! It’s microscopic!”

“We didn’t get your hair looking sea siren worthy      just so you can wear something that you would wear to class on any given      day!”

Georgia held up a hand, staying the battle that was      about to be waged if the militant light in Emerson’s eyes indicated anything.      Together, we watched as Georgia moved to her closet and started pushing hangers.      “I have the perfect thing.”

Hope hammered in my heart. Georgia’s wardrobe      screamed understated elegance. Everything looked expensive and sexy without      appearing over the top.

Turning, she brandished a gray cashmere sweater      that was form-fitting. I touched it reverently, reveling in the lush softness      against my fingertips. “Oh,” I breathed. “Are you sure? It will probably reek of      bar afterward. And what if someone spills something on it?” I was sure it cost      more than I could ever afford to spend.