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CHAPTER THREE

RONI

My phone alarm goes off at the unholy hour of nine a.m.—which, for a woman on vacation, is a crime against humanity. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’ll really have the nerve to go through with this crazy idea. Oof. I can’t believe I agreed to auction myself off tonight. What if Nathan doesn’t bid on me? What if no one does? What if someone other than Nathan does? Fudge. The “what ifs” are killing me.

I spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon alternating between excitement and fear. I’m just about to call Eamon and cancel when my phone buzzes.

Dee

Get ready! I’m on my way.

Me

Thanks for the warning.

Dee

Ha Ha

I groan and set about putting away a pile of clean laundry that’s been on my floor since last weekend. In my head, I’d planned to spend the day cleaning up my apartment. In reality, I watched reality TV, wondering if it’s possible to develop adult-onset hotness in under two hours.

There’s a frantic knock at the door, and I rush over to open it for Dee. Today, she’s in all her fairy godmother gear of tight black jeans and a mesh top that could double as a fishing net. She’s holding a monstrous coffee in one hand and a garment bag in the other.

She barges past me and holds the bag aloft like a trophy. “Behold the perfect drive-Nathan-Brennan-crazy dress.”

I bite my bottom lip. “Oh, man. I’m getting cold feet.”

She drops the bag on my couch and levels a look at me. “Don’t worry. By the time I’m done with you, they’ll be toasty warm.”

Dee storms my bathroom like she’s commanding a military operation. I’m left alone with the garment bag, which looms on my couch like a threat.

I drag it into my bedroom and unzip it. Inside is the kind of dress that makes time slow down for a second. It’s a deep, electric blue and slinky, but not “illegal in four states” skimpy. I hold it up to my chest in the mirror and immediately try to picture myself in it. My inner vixen wakes up and tells me to pull up my big girl panties and stop worrying.

“Don’t just stand there, try it on!” Dee’s voice comes from the bathroom, wrapped in a cloud of coconut-scented steam.

I wriggle into the dress, careful not to pop a seam. The fabric is soft, heavier than I expected, and it hugs every curve. I spin in front of the mirror, staring at the foreign creature in the reflection. The girl in the mirror looks like she could survive a bachelorette auction. Maybe even win one.

Dee appears at my door, towel around her neck, and stops dead. Her eyes go cartoon-wide. “Jesus, Roni. You look—” she gestures, hand fluttering like she’s lost words, “stunning. Nathan won’t know what hit him.” The way Dee says it, I actually believe her. For a split second, I stand there, kind of gaping at my own reflection like a moron.

I mean, holy moly. This dress was made for me.

I don’t even recognize the girl in the mirror. Every inch of this dress is clinging and hugging and making my boobs look like they actually belong in a Victoria’s Secret catalog. My ass looks like a freaking shelf you could set drinks on. I try to suck in my stomach, but Dee immediately slaps my hand away.

“Nope. We’re not doing that. Breath stays in your lungs, darling. Trust me, you look hot.”

My cheeks are somewhere between “freshly boiled lobster” and “human torch,” but Dee’s not even done. “Pull it off and hang it up so we can get to work.”

I peel the dress off and hang it carefully over my closet door like it’s made of actual fairy dust. I stand there for a second, just staring at the dress, honestly kind of terrified to touch it, like it might vanish if I breathe too hard.

Dee snaps her fingers behind me. “All right, Cinderella, shower time. Go!” She shoves me into the bathroom like she’s directing air traffic at LAX.

The steam hits me as I step inside. I’m just lathering up my hair when Dee’s muffled voice cuts through the door. “And don’t forget to shave, Roni! No Shave November ended last week, babe, so bulldoze that forest on your legs!”

I almost choke on my own laughter. Leave it to Dee to make me feel less like a nervous disaster and more like someone who could actually pull this off.

After my long, hot shower, I throw on my pink fuzzy robe and surrender to Dee, who’s already lined up her weapons on the bathroom counter. Foundation. Brow gel. Lipstick in a shade of red that’s bound to rock Nathan’s world.

She points me toward the toilet lid. “Sit. No fidgeting.”