“They barely stay on.”
Ginny didn’t answer, and once Olli secured her jewelry in place, she turned to find Ginny on her hands and knees, digging through Olli’s closet.
“Ginny,” she said. “You don’t have to do that. Even those ankle boots would be fine.” She looked at the black leather with the small heel. Spur was plenty tall, and she could definitely wear a heel with him.
“I would never allow you to even be buried in those ankle boots,” Ginny said from within the closet. “They’re hideous. They should be burned.”
A sting moved through Olli’s chest. She picked up the ankle boots and looked at them, finding them cute. They’d been affordable too, and when she’d worn them to church, one of the ladies had said she liked them.
Yeah, Olli thought. She was eighty years old, Olli.
She put down the possibly ugly boots and looked at Ginny as she emerged from the closet. She stood up and showed Olli the pair of bright blue pumps she held. “These.”
“No way,” Olli said. “Those were the stupid shoes for Bethany’s wedding. I hated them.”
“No,” Ginny said. “We hated those bridesmaids dresses. Those were also hideous, but these are perfect.” She polished them up using the hem on her bright white blouse—which hadn’t rumpled despite her search through the closet—and placed them on the floor. “Just try them.”
Olli sighed like Ginny was making her wear snakes on her feet and stepped into the shoes. She did like wearing heels, because she thought they gave her calves some definition in the muscle. The blue and the denim went well together, and the bright color somehow seemed to make the black blouse more exciting.
“Okay, you win,” she said to Ginny.
“This is why you call me,” she said with a smile. “And why I come every time you do.” She hugged Olli, and the two of them giggled together. She suddenly pulled back and searched Olli’s face. “I just realized he has seven brothers. If this goes well, you could totally set me up with one of them.”
Olli shook her head and stepped back from her best friend. “Ginny, you could get all seven of them to ask you out on your own.”
Ginny didn’t answer, and Olli turned to go into her bathroom. She didn’t want to paint over her real face, so she’d kept her makeup fresh and light. She added more color to her lips and ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s okay?” she asked as Ginny joined her.
“It’s natural,” she said, looking at Olli in the mirror. “Perfect. If you don’t drive him wild with your hair alone, the rest of us have no hope whatsoever.”
Olli laughed and shook her head. She had hair somewhere between the color of ripe wheat and the mahogany floors in her house. It did have a natural wave in it and fell several inches below her shoulders. It parted naturally above her right eye, a long, straight line that required little effort from her.
Her eyes fell to her midsection, cataloging all the faults to go with her perfect hair. Ginny had pretty perfect hair too, hers a much darker shade of brown that always looked like she’d glossed it so the sun would reflect off of it in the most brilliant way.
“Okay,” Olli said, wishing she could lose twenty pounds in the next twenty minutes. “What else?”
“Purse? Wallet?”
“I’m just taking my cell phone,” Olli said. “I’ve got my driver’s license, credit card, and business card in the case.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Business card. Come on, Olli. What are you going to do? Pitch the guy over steaks and seafood?”
Olli had already pitched him the idea of being her fake boyfriend. She knew the Chappells had money, and she hadn’t thought of asking him to invest in her company. She wasn’t going to do that tonight either. “I just never leave the house without one,” she said. “That’s all.”
“You should lean in real close and find out what he smells like,” Ginny said, her bright eyes dancing.
“Perfume.” Olli snapped her fingers and moved down the cabinet, where at least a dozen bottles sat. “Tonight smells like…” She examined the bottles, trying to decide what she wanted tonight to be. Had this been a real date, she’d probably go with Seduction again. Or Nightberry, which was equal parts romance in the fruity undertones and mystery in the darker scents of Evening, Intrigue, and Spice.
“Wide Open,” she said, selecting the bottle. It held Hope and Vulnerability in the fresh scents of honeysuckle and pink grapefruit, which were mostly masked by Possibilities, which she’d represented with the crisp sent of cotton. She spritzed the perfume along her collar, the insides of both wrists, and then up into the air. She stepped into the spray and let it fall into her hair before turning to look at Ginny.
“Ready?” her friend asked. “Oh, that does smell amazing.”
“It’s the hair spritz you need to remember,” Olli said, handing her the bottle. “You should douse yourself in it and then go to that garden social tonight. I’m sure you’ll meet someone there who’ll ask you out.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to the garden social. I’m forty-five, not dead.”
Olli laughed just as the doorbell rang. That peal cut off her laughter, and she met Ginny’s eyes with plenty of fear running through her veins. She couldn’t believe she’d been bold enough to ask Spur to be her fake boyfriend. She’d been even more surprised when he’d agreed. When he’d called to ask her out, Olli had sat at her perfumery desk for a solid twenty minutes afterward, wondering what in the world had just happened.
“Go on,” Ginny hissed. “I’ll stay back here and find some perfume to spritz in my hair.” She gave Olli a little nudge, and that got Olli moving down the hall toward the front door.