“What’s that supposed to mean?” Melody Orson chose that moment to walk into the kitchen. She slapped Quinn’s finger from her lips. “Don’t chew your nails, dear. You’ll ruin your manicure.” She looked at the plate of hot cross buns. “And stay away from those until after you get a mate.”
Quinn felt her earlobes warm. She grabbed a bun and took a large bite, the sweet, spicy bread stuffed with currants, filled her mouth.
Melody huffed her unhappiness. “You need to get upstairs for the hair dresser. It’s going to take hours to tame that wild mess on your head.”
Quinn had let it air dry after washing today just to piss her mom off. She finished chewing the large bite of food then smiled. “Right away, Mother.”
Melody walked around the back of Alise and undid her loose knot. “You’re going to get split ends.” To Monica, she merely shook her head. “I expect you all to be on your best behavior tonight.”
The doorbell rang.
Melody turned toward the foyer. “That must be the caterer. I told him to bring the food around the back.”
The flowers had arrived early morning and the drinks for the open bar a little later. But the caterer had been told to set up closer to the time of the party. And Melody had told him he could take over the kitchen.
“I guess that’s our cue to go,” Quinn said. “Uhm, do you know where…” She let the question directed at Marigold trail off.
Marigold nodded. “He’s checking all the motion activated alarms on the windows and any other place someone can gain entry without using the front or back door.”
“So, not in the house.”
“Affirmative.”
When Quinn made it up the makeup parlor, she snuck a peek out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Luke. When she saw him standing next to Rick, sweat glistening off his incredible biceps, Quinn marveled at her self-control. In other words, she didn’t throw the window open and leap out to be near him.
Adulting sucked. A woman with blonde crimped hair and too much blue eyeshadow strolled in to the room. She wore a pink satin smock with a caricature of dancing shears painted on the front. “Who are you?” She wasn’t Albert, obviously, the man who’d done her hair earlier in the week.
“I am Carly,” she said. “Albert is sick today. He sent me in his place.”
Quinn detected a slight whiff of anxiety, something she wouldn’t have noticed before, but now it smelled almost like spoiled cider. Weird. She could smell something else as well. Something familiar, but faint.
“Come on in.” She beckoned the woman toward her. “I won’t bite.”Unless you provoke me, her bear countered.
Carly fluffed the bottom edge of her hair. She frowned. “Pretty.”
“Thanks,” Quinn said with the same lack of enthusiasm. “Do you want me to sit down on the stool?”
“Yes. That would be perfect.” She retrieved the stool Albert had been using all week. It was over near the wardrobe. “Next to the window seems good. We’ll have a lot of natural light.”
Albert always made her sit in front of the makeup mirror, but Quinn was happy to move to the new location. At least, the view would improve.
Carly plugged in her set of hot rollers, place a round brush, a comb, and setting spray on a small stand on the right of the window against the wall. She began by spritzing Quinn’s curls. “You have a lot of hair,” she said.
“So, I’ve been told.” Quinn pushed a stray curl back. The familiar scent still lingered. It was sort of like wet moss. Where had she smelled that before? “Have we met?”
“I don’t think so.” The air of spoiled cider became more pungent, dulling the other aroma. “I hear tonight’s your big night.” Carly began combing through Quinn’s hair. “Who’s the lucky fellow?”
A longing surged through Quinn. She gazed out the window to where Luke stood. Why did life have to be so complicated? Because it was. Wishing otherwise was a childish waste of effort. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to find another way. Quinn had combed over the clan rule books with a fine tooth comb, but the archaic laws favored patriarchy. There were no provisions for a female leader. And she didn’t have time to convince her clan to change their long-held laws.
When she chose a mate, Trey would invoke the alpha trials, and her chosen bear would have to fight Trey. If Trey won, the clan would become Trey’s. Her other option was to mate with Trey, and the clan would become Trey’s. The last option made her shudder. Yuck. No way would she take that asshat as a mate. If he wanted the leadership so bad, he’d have to fight for it like her great, great grandfather had done back in the day.
Quinn prayed that the man Geraldine Wilder sent to her tonight would be someone kind. Maybe she could handle what needed to be done if the man was at least kind. And strong. Crap. He needed to be alpha enough to take Trey down in a challenge.
A tug on Quinn’s hair brought her abruptly back to the here and now. “Ow.” She rubbed her scalp where Carly had gotten a too rough.
“I’m sorry,” the blonde said.
Quinn turned in time to see the hair dresser swinging a pair of scissors right at Quinn’s neck. She threw her arms up to block the blow, and the blades punctured her forearms.
