by Cynthia Swan
It was the off-season in Magnolia Beach, so she planned to buy her groceries and most everything else locally to support small businesses during the time when they didn’t see many tourists.
Christy would no longer be Christy Evans, The Face. She would be plain old Christy Jones. Jones was her dad’s last name, the one her mom had married, divorced, and married again. Before leaving him for good, saying he didn’t make enough money.
It was too bad he didn’t want the burden of a kid. Christy thought he would approve of her plan. He was always laughing in the few memories she had. Most memories of him were fuzzy. Building forts inside the house, going to the zoo and aquarium before her mom put a stop to it, saying Christy needed to develop a brand. She rolled her eyes.
Nope. Going forward, for the first time in her life, Christy was going to do exactly what she wanted, when she wanted.
Thank you very much, Devlin Walker.
2
Dalton James watched the woman from behind the bar as she flirted with a man who looked like he was in town to golf.
If he had to guess, Dalton would say the guy was recently divorced and hadn’t figured out how difficult it was to date at his age. As for the woman? He’d seen her type too many times, hanging out at the bar in his pub.
For a while Dalton thought he’d been in love with a good woman. Turned out good ole Mackenzie not only ran up all his credit cards, but stole all the money from the pub safe. And to top it all off, she’d lied about being married. When the husband showed up, looking for her, Dalton felt sorry for the guy, he was still in love with his cheating runaway wife.
The woman flipped her hair on the way to the bathroom, hips swaying back and forth with what Dalton thought of as the runway strut. Not that he’d watched all those Victoria’s Secrets holiday shows, but he might have snuck a few glances while his ex watched the program.
Dalton refilled the man’s drink.
“Might want to watch out for that one.”
He ran a hand over his cheek, feeling the day old stubble.
The business executive looked up from his phone.
“What? Why? Did you get a look at her? She’s hot. Anyway, I’m here to play golf and relax.”
“Trust me, I see all kinds here. Sure, she’s attractive, but she’s lying about her age, and I’d bet a twenty she’s hiding a husband and three kids a few towns over.”
The man looked at his drink as if it had the answers instead of Dalton.
“You think?”
He shook his head.
“I’m recently divorced. It’s hard getting back into the dating game when you’re fifty.”
“That woman will eat you for breakfast.”
The guy looked at Dalton, shoulders slumping.
“You look like that Captain America guy, so I’m guessing you would know all about women.”
The woman in question flounced over and curled a hand around the golf guy’s arm.
“Hey handsome, want to get out of here?”
The guy looked at her. Then looked at Dalton and shrugged, his face red.
With a sigh, Dalton cleared the dishes from the bar and empty tables, muttering under his breath. The normally bustling kitchen was quiet this time of night. What Ales You was struggling thanks to his ex, but he’d make it up in the coming high season.
The poor guy would find out the hard way. The woman might be pretty as a peach, but Dalton could tell with one look she was shallow and self-centered. As soon as she found someone with more money, or who was better looking, she’d vanish in the night, leaving the guy bewildered at what he’d done to drive her away.
It was after midnight by the time Dalton jogged up the steps to his cottage. During the off-season, he closed the pub at ten during the week and midnight on the weekends. The quiet was a pleasant break from the high season when he stayed open until two in the morning, seven days a week.
The tiny house on the beach had seen better days. It was shabby and there was always something that needed fixing, but it was all his. At least that was one thing Mackenzie hadn’t ruined.
His parents owned the tiny oceanfront cottage for years until they moved to the mountains to open a bed-and-breakfast in Mint Hill. His brother enjoyed living in town, where it was quieter. Colton liked to walk to work. He’d taken over for old Mr. Snow when the lawyer finally retired.
Dalton bought the place from his parents. It was one of those tiny beach cottages people used to flock to on weekends and summers. There was a time all the cottages along this stretch of beach had been small.
Now? Most of them had been torn down, replaced with enormous homes with elevators and pools that slept thirty or more.
Who had thirty friends they’d want to spend an entire week with?
The neighbors’ huge homes dwarfed Dalton’s place on both sides. He flopped on the sofa, a cold beer by his side, and stared out the windows into the dark, listening to the waves.
Lights flickered and came on next door.
Frowning, he got up to look out the window. Some guy from Philadelphia owned the place, only showed up a few weekends a year. He’d texted Dalton to let him know he was renting the place out for three months. Guess the people had arrived, though he didn’t remember seeing a car parked outside.
Dalton usually kept an eye on the place, made sure the cleaning, maintenance, and pool folks did their jobs. And in return, the owner let him swim in the pool and hot tub whenever he wanted. After working a double shift, he’d been looking forward to soaking in the hot tub while the cold air blew in from the ocean. The pool was heated during the winter so Dalton could swim year round. Guess that wouldn’t happen during the next three months. Unless.
He’d introduce himself to the guy, and maybe when the guy was out playing golf or whatever he was doing in town for three months, Dalton could still use the pool and hot tub.
What Ales You kept a small staff on during the off-season. Normally it worked out fine, but his bartender was out with the flu, so Dalton had worked more than he normally did for the past few days.
Here in Magnolia Beach, the high season paid the bills for the rest of the year. Though this year would be a struggle after the mess his ex left him with.
Mackenzie had forged Dalton’s name to buy a camper for herself. He’d heard she’d shacked up with some crook.
A few weeks later, she’d texted to apologize, but Dalton knew the truth. She’d dumped the guy and was feeling lonely. That woman was no longer worth his time or energy, so he chalked the whole ordeal up to a hard lesson learned and tried to move on.
It would be a long time before he gave another woman the time of day, let alone his heart. The pub and his friends were all he needed.
Christy was delighted with the enormous house. It had a pool and a hot tub, both heated so she could swim whenever she wanted.
She listened to the voice mail from Jo again. Her manager used some old pictures from a shoot in Italy to post on social media, saying Christy was taking a much needed vacation between projects.
Jo had taken care of the paperwork and all the other details for the house, like the cleaning crew and laundry service. There wasn’t even a key, just a code to enter the house.
She listened to her text messages and had her phone read her emails while she unpacked. The bedroom was bigger than most apartments in the city, with a sitting area and sliding glass doors that opened to the ocean. The balcony had a chaise lounge, a couple of tables and another chair. The perfect place to sit and watch the waves. A gust of chilly wind sent her scurrying back inside where it was warm.
The bathroom had a separate shower and a beautiful claw-foot tub. Her mom’s voice filled the space, echoing off the marble walls.
“Honestly Christy, are you out of your mind?”
She sighed as she put her hair products in the shower on the built-in shelf. Her mom was not happy.
“Jo told me you’re taking three months off. Doing nothing. You’re taking a tremendous risk. You kn
ow how it is, you have to stay in the public eye or they forget you.”
Shoulders tense, Christy finished putting her things on the long counter. There were two sinks with plenty of room for all her hair, skincare, and makeup products. With a grin, she swept all the makeup back into the rolling case.
“Stay out of the sun. Wear a hat and sunscreen. It might be winter, but you cannot afford to get any sun, not one single tan line.”
Her mom went on and on about what she should and shouldn’t do. By the time Christy unpacked her clothes, her mom was winding down.
“Do not under any circumstance deviate from your eating plan. No bread, Christy.”
She pressed the trash can icon and deleted the message, turning off the phone before crawling into bed, the sound of the waves lulling her to sleep.
For the first time in a very long time, Christy woke up when her body told her to wake, not to the sound of an alarm or her phone ringing or someone knocking on a hotel door.
To wake up with no demands on her time? Glorious.
She did not spend two hours on her hair.
She did not put on a full face of makeup.
And she did not care what clothes she put on. A pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, hair in a messy bun, and white sneakers. Perfect.
According to the weather forecast, it would be in the sixties for the next few days and sunny. Maybe she’d be a rebel and sit outside in the sun without a hat or sunscreen, just long enough to get a bit of color then she’d put on sunscreen.
Christy looked over at the cute cottage next door. It was a faded gray that matched the gray wooden walkway leading down to the beach.
Not sure what to do with herself, Christy wandered around the house for a bit. Used to being up early and off to a job, she was anxious. Perhaps a run would help her figure out what to do with the rest of the day.
The air was brisk, the smell of salt filled the air as she ran along the sand, listening to the waves, watching the sunrise.
When she got back from her run, she took a long hot shower.
Dressed in a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved tee, Christy pulled on a hat, stuffing her hair underneath, then she grabbed a pair of oversized sunglasses before she took a bowl of fruit out onto the deck.
“What is that smell?”
She sniffed again. The amazing, delicious scent was coming from the house next door. It was bacon.
The guy was sitting at a table on the deck with a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast. Christy swore she could hear the crunch of the bacon.
When the man got up to go inside, a seagull swooped down, snatched the last piece of bacon and flew away.
She couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. When he came back out and stared at his plate as if he couldn’t figure out what happened to his bacon? Christy doubled over laughing.
The guy looked up and over at her, scowling.
“It was a seagull.” Another giggle escaped.
“You sure it wasn’t Sam?”
He picked up his plate, and after scanning the sky, sat down to eat his eggs.
“Is Sam a bird?” Christy wondered how he could tell the seagulls apart to name them.
He finished his eggs.
“No, a cat. The cat’s named Sam.”
Christy smiled at the guy. At five foot nine, she appreciated a tall man, and when he’d stood, he looked about six foot three. She was good with height and ages. And could guess someone’s weight within five or ten pounds.
The guy needed to shave and could use a haircut. He had that all-American look, with brown hair streaked from the sun, and a powerful jaw. A classic clean-cut look.
She leaned over the rail.
“Is Sam a known thief?”
“Notorious. Maybe he’s working with the seagull.”
The guy leaned on the railing. He was barefoot, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
“Maybe you’re right. Smart cat.”
He pointed at her bowl.
“You better watch your breakfast in case the seagull comes back.”
“It’s just fruit. I don’t think he’d be interested. You can’t blame the bird, your breakfast smells amazing.”
She turned to go inside when he called out.
“Come on over, I made plenty. I’ll fix you a plate.”
She shook her head.
“No thanks. I’m good.”
He shrugged. “Are you a friend of Bill?”
“Who?”
The guy narrowed his eyes.
“Bill. The guy who owns the house.”
She ate the last piece of pineapple, positive it didn’t taste nearly as good as bacon.
“I don’t know Bill. My — My work set up the rental.”
He leaned on the rail, watching her as if she were the thief, not the cute seagull.
“How long are you staying?”
“Three fabulous months.” She smiled at him.
But he scowled back at her. “Why do you need such a big place if it’s just you?”
Her smile faltered. “It is huge. My schedule unexpectedly freed up, this place was available, so I took it.”
What was with this guy? Talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed.
“You’re staying three months? Don’t you work?”
“Yes, I do, Nosy McNosy. Don’t you?” She’d had just about enough of this jerk.
Her phone chirped, then started reading her emails. She fumbled for the icon to stop the phone.
“I own What Ales You. The pub a few blocks over.”
She took a few steps back from the railing, done talking to him.
“It was late when I got in last night. I’ll check it out sometime.”
“So what do you do for a living?” He was still leaning on the railing.
With a sigh, she turned.
“I’m between projects.”
He looked bored, as she’d hoped he would. A timer dinged. The smell of bread wafted over, making her drool.
“I made biscuits if you want one,” he said, the smile not reaching his eyes.
She shook her head and turned to go inside.
“Suit yourself.”
The man was beyond froward. He irritated her more than the press, and that was saying something. Her phone beeped and started reading her text messages, saving Christy from marching over there and giving him a piece of her mind.
With a sigh, she went inside, closing the door softly behind her. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea, after all. She hoped her nosy neighbor would mind his own business and leave her alone.
3
The next day Christy hid her hair under a hat and put on her favorite oversized sunglasses for the short walk to the cute store called the Sip and Shop. It was a faded turquoise, one of her favorite colors, and boasted a large window showcasing anything and everything you could possibly need or want for a day of fun at the beach. The mannequin wore a bright red puffy coat over her bikini, making Christy laugh.
A bell tinkled when she pushed through the door. The store was bright and airy, and as she looked around, Christy nodded to herself. The shop had a bit of everything, she even recognized the packaging for her favorite toothpaste.
“Can I help you find anything?”
A woman with kind brown eyes dressed in bright red capris and a white and red striped shirt smiled at her.
“I’m Hazel, this is my shop.”
“Hi. I’m Christy. I love your place. It has such a welcoming warm vibe.”
Hazel had brown hair cut to her shoulders and an air about her that instantly put Christy at ease. She took a breath, trusting in her instincts.
“Could you tell me where to find the hair color?”
When she’d opened the box from Amazon and held the package of hair color up, Christy knew the dark brown, almost black color wouldn’t work. She’d told Alexa chestnut brown, but she must not have gotten the name of the color right, so here she was.
<
br /> The woman flicked a glance at her hat, which sat a bit lopsided with all her hair piled underneath the baseball cap.
“Did you have a hair disaster?”
Hazel pursed her lips.
“If you did, I’d recommend going to see Linda over at Curl Up & Dye. She’s a genius with color.”
Christy shook her head, warmth crawling up her chest and face.
“This is something I need to do myself. You understand.”
Hazel looked at her for a long moment, then turned down a crowded aisle.
“This way.”
They came to an aisle with everything from makeup to hair brushes, to shampoo, and hair dye.
While she was looking at the colors, holding them up to the light, trying to decide what would work best, she didn’t notice Hazel going over to the magazine rack where she quickly moved several magazines to the back of the racks.
After debating between what looked like mahogany or caramel, Christy finally decided on a color that looked more like a chestnut color.
“Is this a semi-permanent color?” She brought the box to the counter along with a couple of fun long sleeved t-shirts, and a sweatshirt that said Magnolia Beach on the front.
Hazel held up the box. “Yes. It should last four to six weeks. Will that work?”
She nodded.
Hazel rang up her purchases while Christy looked at the shark tooth display.
“Have you been by to see your aunt yet?”
Christy froze.
“Sorry?” She croaked out.
Hazel met her horrified gaze.
“Even with your hair hidden and no makeup on, I’d recognize you anywhere.”
She gestured to the magazine rack. “I’ve certainly seen you on enough covers over the years.”
Shock flooded through her. How could she have been so stupid to think she’d get away with hiding her identity?
Hazel reached across the counter and patted her hand.
“Don’t worry. I put all the issues with you on the cover in the back. It’s quiet around here this time of year, mostly locals. Your secret’s safe with me.”
