Andy gently took her hand and led her back toward the velvet chair he'd been lounging in earlier. With a quiet oof, he settled into the seat and tugged her into his lap like she weighed nothing at all, the rustle of the oxblood dress pooling around them.

  "Okay," he said, tucking a strand of her long hair behind her ear, "how about this?"

  Summer blinked down at him warily.

  "We buy one today," he said. "The one that makes you feel like fire. But — every few weeks, we come back and rent another. One at a time. No pressure. No closet full of things that make you nervous."

  She bit her lip, half-laughing. "And we do what? Watch movies in them?"

  He gave her a crooked grin. "No. We plan something. A real date. Fancy. Mysterious. A rooftop dinner. A midnight masquerade. A candlelit picnic in the woods. Whatever fits the dress."

  Her eyes lit up with both wonder and disbelief. "You'd do that?"

  "Summer," he said, voice low, "I'd do it just to see your eyes light up like they did when you saw the blue-green one. But also — this way, you get to be every version of yourself. Regal. Wicked. Soft. Mysterious. Bright. All of them."

  Her fingers curled into the collar of his shirt. "You are... so much."

  He laughed quietly. "I know. And now you're stuck with me."

  "Just one today?" she asked, teasing the edge of the neckline of her dress.

  "One," he said firmly, though his eyes flicked to the velvet sleeves hanging nearby. "God help me."

  Tim wandered back over just in time to catch the end of their exchange, his arms folded loosely and one brow raised. "So," he said, glancing between them, "does that mean you're done playing dress-up for today, or should we build a little wishlist?"

  Summer hesitated, glancing down at Andy, whose arm was still looped around her waist. He was looking up at her like she was made of sunlight and shadow both.

  "I... I mean, that might be smart," she said slowly. "I don't want to forget how any of them felt."

  Tim grinned. "We can even take notes. I'll write down which ones made Andy lose his vocabulary."

  Andy made a small, indignant noise. "I did speak. Eventually."

  "You made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a prayer," Tim said dryly, already walking toward the rack. "That's the kind of information I'm recording."

  Summer laughed, flushed and self-conscious but curious now. "Okay," she said. "Just a few more. For the list."

  Andy smirked. "For science."

  "The only difference between screwing around and science is writing it down," Summer quoted.

  Tim held up a clipboard, meaningfully.

  Andy snorted.

  Carefully Summer eased herself out of his lap, brushing her fingers over the fabric at her hips. She turned toward the fitting room, but Tim gestured her over, already tugging another dress from the collection. Satisfied, Andy watched them wander the boutique, Tim offering suggestions for cuts and silhouettes while Summer tested the weight of fabrics and examined trims.

  After twenty minutes she disappeared behind the curtain again, her arms full of gossamer fabrics and satin folds, and Andy leaned back into the plush chair, utterly content. He could hear the soft murmur of her voice with Tim as they discussed zippers and hidden clasps and adjustable hems.

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  The first new dress she stepped out in was a soft, molten gold that shimmered in the boutique's ambient lighting. The neckline dipped just enough to draw Andy's gaze with a heat he didn't bother hiding, but it was the way the colour caught the light in her hair that really got him.

  "Beautiful," he said quietly, as if any more volume might break the moment.

  The next was deep midnight blue with delicate silver beading trailing like constellations over the bodice and sleeves. Summer turned slowly in it, eyes flicking to his face with just the hint of a question.

  Andy put a hand to his chest, mock-wounded. "Are you trying to kill me?"

  She bit her lip, hiding a smile as she vanished again.

  The final one was a silvery, thistle-purple gown with a layered skirt that swept like petals around her legs. There was something otherworldly about it, almost fairy-like, and for a moment Andy just stared.

  Tim, standing off to the side, murmured, "That one goes on the list."

  Summer laughed softly, the sound tentative but real, and turned in the mirror. "This one feels... different."

  Andy stood slowly, coming over to join her. He looked at her reflection beside his. "Yeah," he said, voice low. "You look like you're about to steal the stars."

  Summer didn't say anything right away, just met his eyes in the mirror and touched his hand where it hovered near her waist.

  "So," Tim said eventually, breaking the spell with practised ease. "Have we got our shortlist, or shall I lock the doors and make you stay forever?"

  Andy's stomach growled loudly enough that even Tim raised an eyebrow and grinned.

  Summer turned toward him, amused. "Was that thunder, or are you dying?"

  Andy clutched dramatically at his midsection. "I suffer nobly in the name of fashion."

  "You've been suffering very prettily," Tim said, heading toward the counter. "But I draw the line at fainting models. Go feed him, Summer."

  "I was going to," she said, stepping carefully down off the pedestal and brushing her hands down the shimmering skirts. "But I wanted to see this one."

  "You've seen it," Andy murmured, taking her hand and brushing a kiss to her knuckles. "Now let me feed you, too. You've been changing outfits for an hour."

  Summer sighed but smiled. "Okay. We'll decide between the two favourites after food. I can't make decisions while you're making me feel like a movie star."

  "That's my job," he said as he helped her out of the dress and back into her own clothes, eyes still warm and hungry. "That, and dramatically arriving with flowers."

  Tim chuckled and waved them toward the door. "Go on. I'll hold the finalists in the back. And Andy, text me if she changes her mind again."

  "She won't," Andy said, then glanced at her with a wink. "Probably."

  Summer rolled her eyes fondly. "I make no promises."

  * * *

  Over dinner — burgers and fries at a cosy little place with low lighting and retro booths — Andy leaned across the table, elbow on the edge, straw in his soda as he gave Summer an exaggeratedly serious look.

  "You know," he said between bites, "if you got two dresses, you could wear one to the gala and one for me. A private showing. No flash photography, just me and a lot of praise."

  Summer gave him a long, warning look. "Andy... "

  He shrugged, unrepentant. "What? I'm being practical. Prepared. Imagine: you wear one to the gala, everyone gasps, swoons. Then the next week — bam — you're in the red one, and no one recovers. Including me."

  She sipped her milkshake slowly, narrowing her eyes. "That's not practicality. That's lust in a velvet wrapper."

  "Isn't it romantic lust, though?" he offered. "Beautifully gift-wrapped, with chiffon ribbon?"

  She laughed despite herself. "You are so dramatic."

  "I'm reasonable," he countered. "Hear me out. One dress for the gala. One for... hypothetical dinners where you pretend not to notice how in love with you I am."

  Summer blinked, then tilted her head. "That's a pretty specific hypothetical."

  He leaned forward, conspiratorial. "I think you should embrace that side of me. Maybe even enable it. For example, I noticed you lingered a little too long on that purple one... "

  "No," she said firmly, pointing a french fry. "One."

  "But — "

  She jabbed the fry at him. "One."

  Andy reached across the table and plucked it from her hand, grinning as he shoved it in his mouth. "You're lucky I like your boundaries, sweetheart."

  Summer flushed, lips twitching into a smile. "You're lucky I like your chaos."

  "I'm going to make a list of future ravishing outfits anyway," he muttered around the french fry. "For date planning purposes."

  "And I suppose you'll just mysteriously know where they are in Tim's shop?"

  "I have connections," he said loftily. "And also Tim owes me three favours and a bottle of gin."

  Summer shook her head, but she was still smiling when she leaned across the table and said softly, "I'll make you a deal."

  Andy raised his brows. "I love deals."

  "If you get through the gala without combusting from distraction, we'll come back next month and pick one to rent."

  Andy's grin turned wicked. "Challenge accepted."

  "Now finish your dinner, dark genie," she said. "You'll need strength if we're going to pick out jewellery after this."