When Its Least Expected (22 page)

She wanted to be someone special, someone beautiful if only for one night. Sure, it
wouldn’t hurt if she looked edible too. That way, maybe, Mason would kiss her again.

Then she sneezed three times in a row with snot and everything. She frowned harder.

Crap. Obviously there wouldn’t be any kisses after all.

Abigail grinned like she could totally hear her thoughts, but for once she kept her
mouth

shut as she stood to ready all of her craptastic torture devices. Harley peeked around
her busy body, noting about fifty different curling things – some had cords, some
didn’t. Each and every object though represented immediate torture. Harley groaned.
Teeth extraction sounded like a better option at that point.

Slowly, so as not to get consumed with dizziness again, Harley settled her bare feet
on

the floor, standing to move to her favorite wing back reading chair. With her lips
still protruding in irritation, she covered her legs with a warm fleece blanket. She
crossed her arms over her chest and sighed as she leaned back to close her eyes once
more. Crap, she needed more sleep.

She’d never make it through the night at this rate.

“Okay Harley, I’m thinking we should work with your curls and leave your hair mostly

down.” Abigail stalked a circle around Harley’s chair, eying every inch of her strands,
pulling and prodding along the way.

Then Abigail pulled out the bristled brush, running it from scalp to ends. She hissed
as it pulled the knots. Harley’s hair was a massive mess. Guess she shouldn’t have
taken a nap with a wet head, but amazingly, minutes later, Abigail’s magic touch took
over. The pain turned

soothing, enough so that Abigail’s words became almost muted.

“Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Abigail yanked a curl, and Harley winced,

narrowing her eyes as she stared over her shoulder at her best friend.

“Watch it, I’m … sensitive.”

Abigail held her hands up, and grinned. “Okay, fine …
cranky
,”

Harley shook her head but didn’t speak. She was too busy concentrating on all the

different ways she could hold her back her sneezes. She could use the finger under
the nose trick, but that might get messy. Then there was the whole hold her breath
thing too, but that would ultimately end in her eye balls exploding. Not. Cool.

“Anyways, as I was saying … I can pin a few curls on top or maybe even a couple of

little braids circling around to the back? The rest can be left down in some wavy
mermaid curls.

What do you think?” At this point, all Harley cared about was a) staying awake and
b) keeping her snot to a minimum.

“Whatever you want to do, Abs. I’m all yours. Besides, I can’t get much worse than
I

already am, right?” Abigail grinned around a mouthful of bobby pins, not at all denying
her question. Damn her.

With one eyebrow raised, Harley sucked in a breath as she took in the massive amount
of

hair supplies once more. God had to give her strength, especially if he didn’t want
her to poke her best friend in the eye with a bobby pin.

***

Harley gasped; a harsh throbbing in her head forced her eyes open. She cracked her
neck

to the side attempting to ease the pain just as the soft voices of her mom and Abigail
echoed behind her. She almost spoke until their quiet conversation turned juicy.

“Abigail, do you honestly think this Mason guy is good enough for her? I mean I met
him

and all, and he seems nice enough. Though the way she was acting earlier in week made
me

question whether she was ready for the dating thing again,” said the mother who pushed
the

dating issues in the first place.

Ugh. They were gossiping like old biddies again. “I mean, it’s only been two years
since

… you know, and for a while there, I never thought she’d get beyond it.” Harley bit
her tongue.

This conversation was way too irritating to listen in on, yet she couldn’t stop.

“I don’t know, Mrs. A. The guy seems to care about her and all, but there are times
when

I’m not even sure if he, well, you know…” Huh, well it was nice to know her bestie
was in her corner. “I’m afraid that if he finds out, he may freak, he’s seems like
the runner,”

A runner – Abigail’s definition of a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. Yeah, that
was

probably true about Mason; she knew it the moment she met him. Deep down, Harley was
kind

of hoping she was wrong.

Harley dug her fingernails into her palm, and her blood began to boil with their continued

conversation. “I heard that the guy’s not even gonna be here that long anyways. Something
about him going back to Santa Cruz when he turned eighteen to pursue a surfing career.”
Harley’s

breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes widened in surprise.
That
was news, but then again, she should have known. Any kind of relationship with Mason
was doomed from the beginning.

Shoulders sagging, heart despondent, Harley tilted her head to the side, trying to
hear a

little more clearly but not fully wanting to accept what the two of them obviously
already knew.

“I guess he wasn’t even going to come here at all.” Hmm, now where did Abigail get
her

sources?

It went eerily quiet. Harley fought back her tears, and her eyes squeezed shut. Crappity,

crap – she shouldn’t be crying. “The last thing I want is for her to become attached.
I think if he left, Abs, then that would be her undoing again. I can’t have her going
back again,”

“It’s going to be up to her, Mrs. A. Only Harley knows what she truly wants, and if
she

feels ready to date again, then there’s nothing we can do to stop her.”

“I know, Abs, but I’m still worried.”

“Yeah, I know. Me too.”

Harley sighed, flicking the lint off her blanket while pondering what to say next.
Hell,

what would
they
say next? She should tell them all to go to hell or maybe she should be hugging them
instead. They were just looking out for her, right? Besides, some things were better
left unsaid. Their opinions were their own, not hers, but they were right with one
aspect. If she wanted to date Mason, then she’d sure as hell do it. Their opinions
didn’t matter. The only one that did matter was her own.

“Let’s wake sleeping beauty. She’s only got a half hour to get dressed before Mason
gets

here, and I still need to do her make up.” That was Abigail for you, always worried
about

completing her beauty regiments.

Their conversation wasn’t leaving Harley’s head anytime soon. The sound of her mom’s

worried voice, Abigail’s voice missing her normal spunk, but it wasn’t the time to
worry. Her head already hurt too much as it was from being sick. There was no point
in making it worse.

Harley yawned, stretching her arms over her head in a show of awakening. “You better

watch your hair, girl. I just spent a good hour trying to get that stuff on your head
just right. The last thing I need is for you to mess up my masterpiece!” Harley smiled.
Abigail always could bring her out of the funk, even if she did like to talk about
her behind her back with her scheming mother.

“I’m sorry …” Harley yawned deeply again, and this time it was genuine. “I must have

fallen asleep. It was probably the cold meds Mom made me take earlier.”

“Yeah, she did mention something about that …” Abigail looked at Harley, her head

tilted as she clicked her tongue against her bottom lip. “I kind of freaked out when
you just fell asleep. One minute we were chatting, and then the next, boom! You were
out of this world

passed out. I kept poking you. I even checked your breathing and pulse too.”

Harley giggled, “I mean, I kept thinking to myself, who sleeps like that?”

The rustle of plastic drew Harley’s attention towards the door. Her mother was there,
her

arms overflowing with a clear garment bag filled with all things pink.

Oh yeah … the dress.

“Alright, sweet thing, I’ve got your –”

Her mother’s hand went to her mouth as a small squeal leaked behind her fingers. Harley

turned to look over at her smug looking best friend, only to turn and refocus on her
mother again.

Crap … she really must have looked like shit. Self-consciously, she patted her eyes.
They

burned. Then she pressed a hand again her cheeks. Yep, hot as hell.

“Oh, honey, sickness and all … You are so stunning.” Harley sighed, the woman was

obviously delusional, but a smile still managed to creep onto her lips anyways at
the compliment.

“Come on, Mom. Don’t get all weepy on me. My head already hurts badly enough.” Her

mother’s cold fingers brushed over her forehead as the confession spilled from Harley’s
mouth.

Her mom grimaced, “You feel kind of warm, honey. Are you sure you’re up to going?”

Harley sighed, maddened with the woman’s worry only to turn and glance at herself
in the mirror a second later.

Her eyes bulged. Whoa. That wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. She didn’t look that good,
but as

she placed her fingers upon her newly styled curls, she almost did a giddy little
happy dance. She kind of did look… What was it that her mother said, stunning?

“Besides,” her mom stood next to her, cupping Harley’s cheeks. Harley smiled at the

woman who would forever be her worst enemy while also her other best friend, “…can’t
a mom

just have a moment to enjoy her beautiful daughter?” Harley sighed, nodding softly.

“Harley, she’s right you know,” Abigail wistfully stepped in. “You’re gorgeous, and
you

don’t even have that killer dress on yet.” Harley glanced at the mirror again; eyes
focused solely this time on the sad reflection of her best friend.

Abigail had been to every dance every year now since they were freshmen, but for the

first time ever, she wasn’t going. Damn David. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate both of
you helping me out.” Apparently there was a fire she didn’t know about because the
sprinklers in her

mother’s and best friend’s eyes became endless.

Jesus, she had two of the most emotional women in her life. “Come on, you two. I’m

going to a dance, not getting married. Can we just get that dress on before Mason
gets here? I don’t wanna be late. Or naked.”

At her order, they snapped out of it and became all business while scrambling around
the

room this way and that. They were tornados of crazy, sweeping this thing and that,
zipping here, powdering there. God, she could almost see her wedding now.

Vegas would surely be in order at this rate.

Then her clothes went off, and the dress went on just as perfectly as she had remembered.

Her mouth fell open. Wowzas. The quick trip to the dress shop hadn’t done her justice.
She

blinked – once, twice, and then she twirled, yes twirled, like a girly, giddy ballerina.

She really did look like something out of a fairy tale.

* * *

His nerves were shot, and standing in front of Harley’s house was his final straw.
Would

he ever get over this anxiety? He wasn’t used to it! It pissed him off too. With a
pink corsage in hand, he breathed in and out, building up the courage to actually
knock. Before he was able to follow through with the act, someone swung it open, a
very cranky looking David.

“What?” He snarled, hastily whipping the door open just enough to let Mason slip in.

“What’s up, David?”

Mason carefully treaded as he followed his chair inside. They landed in the kitchen,

David wheeled around to face him. His mouth was straight, anger fumed behind his eyes.
Mason cringed. Yeah, okay, so he was obviously still mad about the porch thing.

Mason squirmed as David’s narrowed eyes continued to scrutinize him. Minutes ticked

by. God, where was Harley? He checked his cell phone. He stared at the wall. Still,
David sat there. Not saying a word. Not averting his eyes. Nothing.

“So, you’re Mason, I presume?” He stiffened, turning to face a big, burly man with
a

beard. Mountain man. Big. Scary. Mason was ready to pass out.

Then the man outstretched his arm, palm wide open. Mason stared down at it. What?
Did

he not want to hit him then? Mason took his firm grip, the guy actually smiled at
him. He could finally breathe, barely.

“It’s good to officially meet you face to face, son. I’m Craig Anderson.” His grip
was

firm, full of challenge, acceptance maybe too? His stern face also said:
if you hurt my daughter,
I’ll kill you.
Just like David’s. Shit. The Anderson boys meant business. He might have admired
it if it weren’t for the fact that his heart was lurching into his throat. They scared
the absolute shit out of him.

“Umm, you too, sir,” Mason replied smoothly, thankful that his voice had managed to

stay even.

“Please, just call me Craig. ‘Mr. Anderson’ makes me feel so damn old.” Mason’s

tension eased at his words. At least one man in Harley’s life seemed to have a sense
of humor.

David was going to be a hard sell though apparently.

There they were, just three dudes hanging out, two on the couch, one sitting in a
chair

with eye brows that appeared to be permanently glued together. Awkward silence hovered.

Mason tapped his hand on his knee, Mr. Anderson cleared his throat, and David … shit.
Was he cracking his knuckles?

Footsteps and giggles came clattering down the hall. Mason bolted from the couch.
Any

reason to move from those scary guys was good enough for him.

His hands suddenly sweating, his heart was thumping in his temples, but the annoying

body issues failed to exist the moment she finally stood before him.

Holy. Shit.

The floor dipped beneath his feet and sucked him away, metaphorically speaking of