Mister O(8)

“Hayden is so excited for her party in three weeks. She’s counting down, and she’s still talking about the tricks you did at Carly’s fifth birthday last month.”

Harper turns her attention back to Hayden. “You had a good time, didn’t you? Did you like it when I guessed your secret card? Or maybe when I was able to levitate?” she asks, and her speech has completely returned to normal when she talks to the child.

“I loved the secret card! Yes! I want that at my party!”

“You will get all the good stuff.”

Simon glances in my direction then clears his throat. He gives me a quick guy wave, and Harper blushes and says, “Oh, this is my friend, Mister Orgasm.”

Silence. It just descends on the whole joint, like someone shattered a glass and we all have to stare at the wreckage on the floor.

It is a certified train wreck watching Harper talk to this guy. It’s horrifying and awesome at the same time.

She brings her hand to her mouth then pinches the bridge of her nose as her face turns red. Simon laughs at her faux pas, and Hayden just giggles at the scene, maybe because she finds it funny to see Harper turn the shade of a fire engine. I’m ready to grab a bucket of popcorn and keep watching this show, because it is fascinating that Harper has no clue how to interact with a guy who likes her.

“I mean Nick,” she squeaks out. “This is Nick. I saved him from Vicious.”

Simon arches a brow. “Vicious?”

I stand up. “Scary dude who heads up an underground fight club. Or maybe it’s a biker gang these days. Either way, he was terrifying,” I say with a shudder, then extend a hand. “Nick Hammer. Nice to meet you.”

“Simon,” he says. “And this is my daughter, Hayden.”

I say hello to his kid.

Harper hooks her thumb in my direction as she looks at Simon. Speech seems to have returned to nearly normal levels. “He’s my brother’s best friend. Which means he’s totally off-limits.”

Ahh . . .

The plot thickens. Harper really likes this guy, since she’s letting him know she’s available.

“Good to know,” Simon says with a smile. “I’ll give you a call and maybe we can get together and prep for the party. Talk about the tricks and whatnot.”

After an awkward goodbye, Simon takes his daughter to the only free table, on the opposite side of the shop. I stare at Harper pointedly. I can’t resist. I have to poke at this. Besides, it’ll help me get my mind off the thought of her naked. “You like him, don’t you?”

She sighs dejectedly. “Is it that obvious?” she whispers.

“No,” I say gently. “I mean, relatively speaking. It’s not like you were holding up a sign that said ‘I like you so much.’”

She lowers her head. “Ugh. I am such a—”

But she doesn’t finish the sentence, because the parade of mortification launches an encore as Harper drops her forehead into her palm, which causes her elbow to slide on the table, which sends her hot chocolate on a fast track for . . .

Me.

And yup.

Three seconds later, my favorite faded gray T-shirt with Hobbes on it is covered in lukewarm milk and the dregs of whipped cream.

“Shoot me now,” she groans as she rests her cheek on the table and mimes pulling a trigger.

“Good thing it’s laundry day,” I say, and I’m thinking there has got to be a storyline somewhere in this where Mister Orgasm saves the day.

She lifts her face. “Are you really sure you want me to go anywhere with you?”

I give an exaggerated nod and a tug at my hot-chocolate-stained T-shirt. “You pretty much just sealed the deal on being my sidekick, Princess Awkward.”





4





Harper swings her right arm behind her, arcs it in front, then launches the nine-pound, flaming-pink neon ball. In a glorious straight line, the ball speeds down the lane, which illuminates with flashing silver lights, and I hold my breath until it smacks three pins.

I hate to do this, but I silently send a prayer that the damage ends there.

Only it doesn’t. Two more pins wobble and then surrender.

I cross my fingers that the others don’t give in.

No such luck. Three more topple then one of those pins clobbers the final pair.

And they all fall down.

Harper thrusts her arms high and punches the air with a fist. Her second strike of the night, along with a spare. Shit, shit, shit. My team is dangerously close to beating Gino’s. I sneak a look at him. His arms are crossed, his lips form a ruler-thin line, and his eyes are nearly slits. Perched on the orange plastic chair by the scoring screen, he glares at me briefly, as if it’s all my fault for letting her nab a strike. Serena appears, and he smiles brightly as she drops a hand to his shoulder and whispers something to him. Probably reminding him to say cheese for the company photographer, since they’re going to post these pics on the Comedy Nation Instagram feed.

I turn my focus back to Harper. Her blue eyes are lit up and sparkling, and she’s on some kind of high. She heads toward me at the ball return. It should not surprise me that she can bowl like a champion. I bet she kicks ass at pool, too. Probably nails the bullseye in darts every time. Hell, she can likely change a tire without any help.