Kiss and Break Up (Magnolia Cove, #1)(2)

She’d gotten a job.

Working at the local library four days a week didn’t pay much, but it was enough for her to be able to put aside a nest egg, thank my father for everything he’d done for her, then hightail it out of there as soon as the moving truck had arrived.

From mansions to three-bedroom cottages and ball gowns to Chucks and worn denim, when I was ten, my life changed overnight, and even though I’d been petrified, it didn’t take me long to realize we’d be just fine.

Dad had offered for me to stay with him, and although it would’ve been convenient to keep living close to Dash, who remained one of my few friends, I’d declined. If Dashiell wanted to see me, he’d find a way.

And find a way he did. Though it took him longer than I’d have liked to quit griping about slumming it in the ‘burbs, and he still complained about the mildew scent that drifted off the creek and seeped into our windows.

I loved that creek. It ran right along the edge of our backyard, and while the amount of mosquito repellent I needed to wear out there left me smelling like a walking chemical, listening to the water gurgling downstream through my cracked open window was the best lullaby I’d ever been sung.

Hair Repair was a tiny salon smothered in purple. Purple chairs, purple sinks, purple countertop, purple dryers … and you get the point.

Suella smiled as I walked in, twisting a chair she’d just wiped down with a towel. I marched over and slumped into it, grinning into the mirror.

She gasped, slapping my shoulder and spinning me around to grab my chin. “It’s about time, girlfriend. Just in time for senior year.” She gasped again, her glittery acrylic nails digging into my skin as the overbearing scent of Chanel hit my sinuses. “Homecoming. Oh, tell me you’re already hunting for a dress.”

Pulling out my phone, I lost her harsh grip on my chin as I spun around and rearranged my skirt, getting comfortable. “I already know which dress I’m wearing.”

Mom groaned, taking a seat in a chair beside me as her hairdresser and close friend, Bev, finished up with a call at the front counter. “She found this god-awful thing in the thrift store a month ago. Her father said he’d buy her any dress she wanted, but no, of course she picks something that costs fifteen dollars and reeks of mothballs.”

I unlocked the screen of my phone.



Dash the Demon: Are you bald yet?



As Suella spritzed water over my hair, I tapped out a message while Mom described the bubblegum pink eighties gown and its layers upon layers of tulle and ruffles.



Me: Negative.



Dash the Demon: Hmm. One-word response. You’re mad?



Me: No.



I laughed as he no doubt overanalyzed every facet of my second one-word response. I’d cop an earful later, but I didn’t care.

“You can’t wear that dress,” Suella said, dragging a comb through my hair.

I tucked my phone in my lap, wincing as the comb snagged on a knot. “I can and I will.”

Mom sighed, opening a magazine.

Suella pinched her lips together as I met her stare in the mirror. “So what are we doing? Trim?”

About to nod, I studied the long curls that fell into a frizzy mess around my face and down my back. Hagrid hair had been how the fantastic people I’d attended school with described it.

Dash’s texts came to mind. I smiled, seeing the pearly, straight whites of my teeth, and exhilaration coursed through me.

“Let’s cut it all off.”

Mom sucked in a shocked breath, the magazine slipping and almost falling to the purple painted concrete floor.

Suella grinned, then immediately got to work.

As blonde curls tumbled, splashing onto the ground around Suella’s knee-high black boots, my slick hands slowly unclenched, relinquishing the grip on my phone.

While Mom was waiting for her color to be rinsed, I decided to head to the newsstand to find the latest issue of Scrapbook & Cards Today.

The breeze kissed my legs as I stepped outside, my new hair bouncing around my shoulders. Suella had dried the curls into soft waves, and the absence of the heaviness that typically fell over my back and shoulders had my lips curving.

Outside the poster smeared shop, I waited for two guys I recognized from school to pass, who barely paid me any notice, nothing unusual there, then quickly took a selfie.

Inside, the scent of magazines caused my chest to flutter, and I waved to Rich behind the counter before scurrying over to the craft section.

With a magazine in one hand and my phone in the other, I paused as soon as I heard the latter beep.



Willa: I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number.

Daphne: Right?! Talk about a lame case of who the hell are you and what have you done with my friend?



I texted back, trying to contain my smile as someone crept behind me in the otherwise empty aisle.



Me: CRAZY! I feel like a brand-new person.



“Hey. Peggy, right?” a deep voice asked.

I almost dropped my phone, pivoting slightly to discover a broad, hard chest. My eyes zoomed up, and the face of Byron Woods stared down at me.

“Uh, yeah.” I laughed the type of nervous laugh that made me want to smack myself. “That’s me.”

What did he want, and why was he smiling at me?