With three days left until Sophie’s prom, the girls took me down to the tuxedo shop in Denver. ‘Course they’d done the whole prom thing before so they were the experts. But—my word! You should have heard the argument that broke out over my pocket-handkerchief. Mac said it had to be white. Elaina insisted on red. But Whitney won the day because—really—she’s the girl boss. And the green silk handkerchief she picked out matched my eyes perfectly.
By the time I was finished, I looked like Colin Firth in Pride or Prejudice. Except I was better looking, of course. I’d rented one of those tailored gray jackets with tails. My shirt sported lace at the neck and gold cufflinks on the sleeves. A pair of closely fitting black slacks completed my ensemble. (The high leather boots were my own.)
I was the perfect combination of romantic era and latest trend as I turned my back on the three-way mirror and faced my audience of girls.
“Well, that’s it then,” MacKenzie proclaimed as she looked me up and down. “I don’t think we can do any better.”
“No,” Mim agreed with a pleased smile. “We couldn’t possibly do any better.”
“Ladies,” I declared in my most civilized tones. “Thank you.”
“You’re just so cute,” Whitney exclaimed, crossing the dressing room floor and pinching my cheeks. She smiled up at me like a proud mama.
I hated it when she did that.
“You’re just so twenty-something,” I mimicked in a high falsetto.
She went up on her toes, obviously meaning to plant a kiss on my forehead. But I intercepted her lips on the way there, pressing my mouth against hers and startling her.
Her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink. I’m sure she came close to fainting from the effect of my kiss which must have been earth shattering. But when she recovered, she gave me a stern look and wagged her finger at me. “You’re a naughty boy,” she said.
“And you’d be wise to remember that,” I countered, straightening my cufflinks like I was James Bond.