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“Nice, right?” Georgie grins as we walk toward the others. “Morning, ladies.”

“Morning,” Rory replies, standing to hug us. “My dad started mowing the fucking lawn at six this morning, so I use that word loosely.”

“On a Sunday?” I ask.

“If that’s not a reason to move out, I don’t know what is,” Mallory says as she hugs me next.

Rory rolls her eyes. “You sound like my brothers.”

Georgie disappears through a doorway and returns carrying four glasses and a bottle of champagne. She pops the cork before pouring each of us a glass.

“Does the owner know you’re raiding the champagne?” I ask.

Mallory gestures toward Georgie. “You’re looking at her.”

I turn to G. “You own this place?”

“Yep.” She looks around the salon with a proud smile. “My pride and joy. Dell and Whitney will be out soon, so start deciding what you want.”

“If you own the salon, why do you work at The Breakwater?” I ask.

“Because she’s incapable of sitting still,” Mallory answers, taking a sip of champagne.

“I used to work here full-time,” Georgie explains. “But I needed a break from doing hair every day. Dell and Whitney handle most things now, and I pick up shifts at The Breakwater because apparently one job wasn’t enough.”

Her answer sounds casual, but she reaches for her glass and changes the subject before anyone can add anything.

There’s more to that story.

I don’t pry. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.

For now, I’m just happy to be here.

* * *

Two glasses of champagne later, I’m feeling pleasantly relaxed. Whitney has washed and styled my hair, and now Dell is painting my nails.

“So, what’s your story, Blair?” Mallory asks from the chair beside me.

The question catches me off guard, although I probably should have expected it. I am the mysterious new girl, after all.

“Not much of a story.” I force a casual smile. “I lived in New York my whole life, but for such a big city, it started feeling suffocating. I needed a change of pace, and that brought me to Hartwell.”

I take a sip of champagne, hoping it discourages any follow-up questions.

Mallory studies me for a moment, like she knows I’ve left out several chapters, but she doesn’t push.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Georgie says, blowing gently on her freshly painted nails. “This town needed some fresh meat, and we’re already well on our way to becoming besties.”

“I’m glad I’m here too,” I reply, meaning it more than I expected to.

“So.” Rory turns toward me with a mischievous smile. “What’s the deal with you and Dean?”

I nearly choke on my champagne.

“Nothing,” I splutter. “There’s nothing to report. He saved my ass by fixing my car, and I returned the favor by driving him home last night.”

Mallory’s head snaps toward me. “Wait. He didn’t leave when we did?”