She wanted to throw her arms around her friend and confess how much she loved that a well-put-together, fashionable beauty queen like Harper got Celia the tomboy cowgirl. “Thank you. But I’m not changing my name. I’m still Celia Lawson.”

“Really? Why not?”

“Seems like a hassle.” Especially since it wasn’t permanent. Celia flipped through a rack of long-sleeved shirts. A poppy red one with white piping and black roses caught her eye.

Harper said, “That’s the wrong color for you.”

Celia found several shirts, but couldn’t force herself to check out the skirts or dresses. Not her style. Plus, she didn’t have proper girl shoes. She owned one pair of wedge sandals, five pairs of boots, one pair of athletic shoes, and one pair of flip-flops. She’d never been a shoe-crazed girl, which completely flabbergasted both Harper and Tierney.

“All right. Time for the fashion show. I want you to try on everything, and I mean everything.” Harper smiled brazenly as she threw back the dressing room curtain. “And you’re gonna start with my selections first.”

Celia groaned halfheartedly.

She nixed the orange and oranger floral shirt. Ditto for the seafoam green number with crisscross straps she couldn’t even figure out how to fasten. She didn’t mind the green and purple paisley western shirt Harper had paired with a royal purple tank top. And she loved the soft gray sweater that was tighter than she normally wore, with sequins around the scooped neck. And although the navy blue and cream lace tunic looked hippie-ish on the hanger, it looked more prairie-style on her. Chic country.

Chic and Celia Lawson. In the same sentence. Right.

Harper removed the discard pile and brought in Celia’s selections. But Harper gave her choices a thumbs-down. Every single shirt Celia had chosen.

When she slipped on the last one, a pale pink thermal with embroidered roses on the three-quarter-length sleeves, Harper shook her head. “I thought you weren’t buying clothes to wear in the barn?”

“I give up.” Celia slumped into a chair. “Kyle is right. It’s hard to tell I’m a woman most of the time.”

Harper’s eyes pierced her. “Your husband said that to you?”

Celia nodded glumly.

“That jerk. I will be right back.”

She heard Harper muttering and the click of hangers.

Then Harper stood in front of her with a smug smile. “These outfits are over the top. But, darlin’, that’s what you need to make that foolish man…beg.”

Celia smiled. “I’ve missed you.” She ducked into the dressing room and slipped on the first outfit. And holy shit, she was afraid to come out.

“Don’t make me come in after you,” Harper warned.

She took a deep breath and threw back the curtain. “Ta-da.”

Silence.

“That bad, huh?” Celia said with a sigh. “I didn’t think I could pull this off. It shows way more of my pasty white skin than I’m used to—”

The front door chimed and a voice yelled, “Harper, I just have a quick question—” Tierney stopped. Her eyes were big as saucers behind her glasses as she scrutinized Celia. “I’m glad I didn’t try that on. Obviously it was made for her. You are a cowgirl goddess in that smokin’-hot getup.”

Celia’s mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”

“She’s completely serious. Take a gander at your sexy self in the big mirror.”

They were being polite. That’s all.

She stepped in front of the three-way mirror. The boot-cut jeans were a faded shade of blue. Tight too. Tan fringe circled the bottom hem by her feet. The outside seam of each leg showed an inch of skin beneath the leather ties, which held the jeans fabric together. The front sat so low you could practically see her hipbones. She turned. The back pockets had sheer lace flaps that exposed more skin. But the jeans did look good. Made her legs look a mile long and her hips look curvier.

The top to the outfit was more outrageous than the bottoms. A vest, the same shade and material as the fringe on the jeans, pushed her boobs together, creating cle**age. The wide collar was crafted of denim. Although the vest reached the waistband of the jeans, it did ride up, revealing a two-inch strip of her belly.

Celia looked nothing like herself. Her gaze met Harper’s in the mirror. “It’s a fun outfit. But I wasn’t looking for something to wear in the bedroom.”

“This is not bedroom attire. You look too damn good to limit yourself to the hungry eyes of your husband. You need to wear this out. Let every man in the joint wish he was peeling those skintight jeans down your amazing legs. That’ll show him.”

Tierney glanced at Harper, then Celia. “What am I missing?”

“Kyle insulted his new bride by questioning her femininity and she’s gonna show him she’s all woman.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Put on that other outfit,” Harper said to Celia, “while Tierney and I plot Kyle’s comeuppance.”

Celia was torn. While she wanted to soothe her feminine pride, she didn’t want to humiliate Kyle to do it.

Tierney sauntered over and patted her on the arm. “Don’t worry. We’re not planning anything mean. But every once in a while our men need a reminder of how lucky they are.”

She said, “Okay,” but she wasn’t entirely convinced it’d work with Kyle. The next outfit was a dress. She yanked it over her head, tugging the clingy fabric down her legs. But there wasn’t much fabric to tug. “Harper, you brought me the wrong size.”