Page 44 of Crazy for this Girl

I groan out loud. “C’mon! You made me wait like a zillion months, Cal.”

“So your marriage proposal is all set?” He heaves a brow, expecting something in return, and I’m sure he’ll rate my fake proposal on a scale from one to ten, critiquing me for the rest of the day.

I shrug nonchalantly, crossing my arms over my chest. “Depends if I like the surprise or not.”

“You’re a snob.”

“And you’re a tease.”

Cal jerks his head. “Let’s get out of your mom’s bird-eye watch because your reaction might cause her to think something’s up.”

“Am I going to scream?”

“Maybe.”

“Then standing here will be fine.” Because I’m over Mom, and her overly dramatic questions. Cal and I have been best friends since our summer of Freshmen year. The dude hasn’t screwed me over yet.

“You might be kissing me by the end of this,” he quips without humiliation, even with assurance in his tone, as I ball my hands into tiny fists to remain calm.

“Highly doubt it,” I quickly retort, forcing a face of someone who’s purely unbothered.

“Really?” His face lifts without skepticism, and what the hell did he get me? My impatience is running thin and even more eager because now Cal is making a big deal out of this, so it has to be good.

“Really.” I fold my hands in front of me. “You’re like a brother to me.”

What a crock of crap.

His nose wrinkles as if that alone is disgusting. “Come on, then, sis.”

I follow him up the rest of the hill to his massive cabin where his Mom is bent over the porch railing and smoking a cigarette with a cell phone attached to her ear. She reminds me of Marilyn Monroe, with her flawless figure and the tight dresses that hug her hips. She has beautiful blonde hair that’s cut right above her shoulders and jewelry is seriously her best friend. I never seen her without it. Even when I saw her in pajamas one time.

“Hi, Mrs. Harper,” I greet, even though half the time I try to speak to her, she dismissively waves her hand at me, so as not to be rude, but also because she doesn’t want to be bothered with me either.

Low and behold, she raises a hand, wiggling her red manicured fingers, but doesn’t wipe the irritated expression off her face while she listens to whoever is on the other line.

“Interior designer bailed on her this morning,” Cal tells me. “She’s super pissed about it.”

“For your house in Cali?”

“No, for the house she bought in Cabo.”

My eyes widen. “Cabo?”

Geezus. I’ve never been out of the States.

Cal turns around, walking backward as he looks and talks to me. “I’ll take you there someday. You’ll like it. There’s whale watching and sailboat races. The weather is pretty nice and—“

“You’ve been there?”

“Yeah, plenty of times.”

“Wow…it sounds expensive.”

He smiles, and I practically melt. That or the beating sun overhead.

Yeah, it’s the sun. It always has to be the sun.

“You never have to worry about money when you’re with me, Laynee.”

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