by Tara Sheets
She held the marijuana plant in the air, waving it to get his attention. “I found this hidden under the ferns.”
Kevin’s smile took an instant nosedive. “Aw, balls.”
“You told me this wouldn’t happen again,” Juliette said, setting the plant on the cutting table. “You promised me.”
“I know, but you can make anything grow. Can’t you make an exception? No one has to know.” The whine was teenaged to perfection with just the right notes of hope and cluelessness. “My friend has a buyer lined up for the rest of the summer. He says we’ll make a killing if you help us. Besides, weed’s legal now in Washington.”
Juliette lifted his hoodie from a peg on the wall and handed it to him. “You can explain that to your mom when she asks why you got fired.”
“Please don’t tell my mom,” Kevin moaned. “Wait—I’m fired?” His shoulders slumped. “Balls.”
“Yeah, good luck with yours.” She held the door open for him. “I’ve seen your mom when she’s angry.”
Kevin pulled on his hoodie, scowling.
Juliette felt a stab of pity for him. He seemed so anchorless. “Wait.” She grabbed one of her hand-wrapped soaps from a basket and held it out. “Take this.”
He was clearly unimpressed with her parting gift. “I have soap at home.”
“This is different. And it smells good, see?” She pressed the pine-and-sandalwood-scented bar into his hand.
He shook his head. “I use Axe body spray. I don’t need—”
“Girls like this way better, trust me. It’ll help you.”
Finally, a flash of interest. “Get chicks?” He sniffed it cautiously.
She pressed her lips together, choosing her words. “I think it could help in a lot of ways. Just try it, okay?”
A few minutes later, Juliette watched him drive away in his mom’s gold minivan. The soap was charmed to help a person gain clarity and make good choices. She hoped he’d use it, but even without the magic, it was a win for Kevin. Because . . . Axe body spray? Come on.
She closed the back door and thumped her head against it. He was the third person she’d fired in a month. Romeo wasn’t going to be happy, and she really needed him happy. Her plan to buy the florist shop depended on it.
As if on cue, the door opened, and Romeo breezed in on a wave of expensive cologne. “Darling.” He made a beeline for the coffeemaker. “Please tell me that wasn’t Kevin I saw driving away when I pulled up.”
Romeo was in his sixties, with salt-and-pepper hair and brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when he laughed. He wore impeccably tailored clothes, and with his Rhett Butler smile and easy charm, he looked like he just stepped out of an old Hollywood film. Juliette was sure he’d broken many hearts in his day, but now he was happily married to his husband, an airline pilot.
“I had to let Kevin go,” Juliette said.
Romeo took a mug from the cupboard and lifted the ancient coffeepot near the sink. “You can’t keep firing people, hun. I’m going to be gone on my trip for three weeks, and you need the help.”
“Trust me, Kevin wasn’t helping.” She filled him in on her brief stint as an almost–drug lord.
“Well,” Romeo sighed. “You did the right thing.”
“So you see, I’m better off managing the place alone.”
“Look,” he said, pouring a cup of coffee. “I know you like to do everything yourself, and you’re good at it. Really good at it. But one of these days you’re going to have to let someone in. The remodel starts tomorrow. You need the help, which brings me to the reason I stopped by.” He raised the mug and took a sip.
Juliette jerked her hand up. “I wouldn’t—”
He choked. Coughed.
“Sorry,” she said. “I tried to warn you.”
“What fresh hell is this?” he wheezed, staring into the coffee mug. “It tastes like water strained through compost dirt.”
“Well, Kevin made it, so you never know.”
He set the cup firmly in the sink. “I’m going to go get something real. You want a hazelnut mocha?”
She grinned. “Always.” Sweet, sweet nectar of the gods.
“Extra vanilla whipped cream, right?”
Juliette nodded. He was the greatest boss on earth. Possibly the greatest person. She adored him to the moon and—
“I hired my nephew to facilitate the remodel,” Romeo announced.
Juliette stopped grinning. “I’m going to facilitate the remodel.”
“I know, I know. But you’ll be working in the shop. He’s going to do the actual labor.”
She followed him to the front entrance. “Is he qualified to build an entire deck and a greenhouse? I mean, I thought we were hiring contractors.”
“Don’t worry,” Romeo said. “He’s done this kind of work before. And he’ll have some people help out when needed.”
Juliette wished Romeo had asked her before doing the hiring, or at least let her be part of the process. Romeo didn’t have the best track record when it came to choosing solid employees. If he was hiring his nephew, it was obviously for personal, family reasons, and it was never a good idea to mix family with business. Not that she’d know. Aside from her cousin, Juliette was the last remaining Holloway on the island. But it didn’t sound like a good idea. Who knew what his nephew’s actual credentials were?
She crossed her arms in frustration. For all she knew, he was going to be some lazy deadbeat who did sloppy work. Another person she’d have to babysit. “When does he start?”
“Tomorrow,” said a familiar voice behind her.
She whirled around.
Logan O’Connor stood in the doorway. He nodded to Romeo. “Uncle Ro.”
Juliette’s mouth fell open, and she had to force it shut. Uncle freaking Ro? She stared at Logan in disbelief. He looked like he needed someone to scrape the smirk off his face with a shovel. She happened to have one.
“You’re just in time to join me for coffee,” Romeo said, slapping him on the back. “But first, I want you to meet Juliette, my shop manager.”
“We’ve already met,” Logan said, holding out his hand.
She shook it because she was super managery and professional, and also because there was a shovel in the back room calling to her. But clocking him in the face with it might not seem very welcoming, so shaking hands was probably the better choice.
“Nice to see you again,” she lied.
His grip was firm and strong. “Likewise.”
“Logan’s going to fix things up inside, too,” Romeo said. “Make it more organized. You’ll have to give him some room to work, okay, hun? Show him where things are?”
She dipped her head, unable to go through with a full nod. For three years, she’d managed the shop. She had a system, and knew how things worked. Maybe it didn’t look organized to others, but it worked for her. Everything was under control. And now she was just supposed to step aside and let his lumbering nephew come in and change everything?
Romeo kept talking about shelves and paint and mirrored paneling, but Juliette stopped listening. It’s not that she didn’t want to fix up the shop; she really did. But it bothered her that Romeo was making all the decisions without asking for her input. She planned on owning the shop someday. These changes happening now were going to be changes she’d have to live with for years to come. It was frustrating not to have any say about what was being done.
And here stood Logan, smirking at her. All she could think about was how he judged her shop—judged her all those years ago—and found them both lacking. All she could hear was, I’m not really into plants. He was the last person she wanted in her personal space, but by some jacked-up twist of fate, she was going to be stuck with him for the next few weeks.
“I’ll do what I can to make it look decent in here,” Logan said. “It shouldn’t be too hard, even though the back room is a train wreck. Practically a fire hazard. I don’t know how anyone can even work back there. But don’t worry, Uncle Ro.
I’ll take care of it.” He looked pointedly at her. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“There’s nothing here I can’t handle,” he said with an arrogant shrug.
And that was it. She made up her mind right then and there not to make things easy for him. He may have an uncle who ran the show, and he may have grown up with rich, doting parents and popular friends and family picnics with noodle salad, but she had something better. Something he didn’t have. Something she could always count on.
Juliette’s smile was catlike, her mind racing with possibilities.
She had magic.
Chapter Three
Juliette swung open the door to her cousin Emma’s bakery. Even in her mood, Juliette couldn’t help admiring the gorgeous FAIRY CAKES sign on the back wall. A gift from Emma’s fiancé Hunter, it was an intricate mosaic of rainbow stones and turquoise lettering, created by the same artist who designed Hunter’s restaurant & café sign on the waterfront.
“You’re never going to guess the crazeballs day I’ve had,” Juliette called to the back room. She inhaled the sweet, tangy scent of citrus fruit mixed with vanilla buttercream frosting. “And whatever you’re baking, I need one.”
Emma Holloway emerged from the kitchen with a tray of cupcakes topped with crystalized sugar candies that looked like tiny orange slices. Her blond hair was in its usual messy bun and she had a streak of frosting on her cheek. Juliette had never seen anyone more beautiful. Ever since Emma and Hunter had become engaged, it was as if she glowed from within.
Juliette felt a twinge of nostalgia and sadness, knowing it was no longer just her and Emma. They’d been best friends growing up, and it was always just the two of them against the world. Now that Emma had Hunter, things were different. Juliette loved Hunter, of course. He made Emma happier than Juliette had ever seen, so that made him golden in her book. But once Emma and Hunter were married, things would change. And since Juliette never planned on getting married, where did that leave her? The idea was a little too gloomy to contemplate, so she shoved the thought aside.
She gave Emma a quick hug and snagged a cupcake off the tray.
“Orange Dreamboat,” Emma announced, placing them into the case. “Intended to bring back fond childhood dreams.”
“If only our magic worked on us,” Juliette said, plucking the orange candy slice off the top and popping it into her mouth. “I’d be all over this one. And I know exactly what dream I’d like to bring back.” Logan’s million-dollar smile flashed in her mind, but she ignored it. “The flying one. Remember how I used to fly all the time in my dreams? Swooping and soaring over Pine Cove Island, the ocean, the whole world. I never have that dream anymore. Maybe it’s because I’m all grown up and I know flying isn’t possible.” She flopped onto the padded bistro chair. “Bummer. Adulting sucks.”
She bit into the fluffy cupcake and closed her eyes, chewing in bliss. It reminded her of hot summer days eating popsicles on their grandmother’s front porch when they were little. “Hmm.” She took another huge bite. Chewed. Swallowed. It was heaven. “Something’s off about these,” she said with a forced frown. “I’m going to need to eat at least three more in order to pinpoint the problem.”
“Then you’ll have to wait until closing,” Emma said, wiping down the counter. “I can’t have you testing all my inventory.”
“Just one more,” Juliette said around a mouthful of spongy, delicious goodness. “Seriously, these are my favorite.”
“I thought Raspberry Kiss was your favorite. And the week before that you said Lavender Bliss was your favorite. And the week before that—”
“You’re right. I call dibs on all of these.” She waved her hand at the colorful array of cupcakes in the case.
“I don’t get it,” Emma said. “How can you eat like Cookie Monster and never gain a pound?”
“It’s my super intelligent brain.” Juliette licked frosting off her finger. “Burns a lot of calories.” She jumped up to grab a napkin. “I can’t stay long because Gertie and Molly are freaking out about some houseboat thing and they want me to go by Dazzle so they can fill me in. Do you know what that’s about?”
“No idea,” Emma said. “But I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”
Gertie and Molly were their closest friends, and working at the hair salon meant they were always abuzz with the latest gossip.
“So what happened today?” Emma asked. “Did you fire another employee?”
“P’sh.” Juliette sat back on the bistro chair. “Actually, I did. But this is crazier. You’ll never guess who appeared in my shop today.”
Emma took the chair opposite her and adjusted her apron. “Was it your owl from Hogwarts? Did you scold it for being sixteen years late?”
“I’m still waiting for my owl, but no. This is even weirder.” She leaned forward. “Logan O’Connor came in to the shop.”
Emma stopped arranging her apron and gaped at Juliette. “As in your ninth-grade crush, Logan O’Connor?”
“Yes.” Though “crush” was putting it mildly. Back then, Juliette was going to love him until galaxies collided and all the stars in the universe burned out.
“What’s he doing here? Did he remember you? Did you still want to kiss him?”
“Moved back. Barely. And hells no.” Juliette licked another scoop of frosting from her finger. “What am I, fourteen?”
Emma gave her a knowing smile. “I seem to remember he made quite an impact on you back then, what with his graduation party and the Spin the Bottle game.”
Juliette cringed at the mention of that disastrous night. “Please, I’m so over it. Besides, this is the craziest part of all. He’s going to be doing our remodel at the shop. He’s Romeo’s nephew.”
Before Emma could respond, the front door swung open and Gertie and Molly hurried in.
“Oh, good,” Gertie said breathlessly, hefting her giant tote bag over her shoulder. “You’re both here, so we can kill two birds with one stone.” Gertie was the lead hairdresser at Dazzle. At almost fifty, she had enough energy to power a small planet. Even though she was married with two grown sons in college, she never looked her age, due to her tiny stature and penchant for dying her hair wild colors. This week it was blond with purple tips.
“Yeah, we have to be quick,” Molly added, pulling a chair to their table. “I have a blow dry in twenty minutes and it’s Edna Humper, so I can’t be late.” She rolled her eyes. “That woman is like a sharknado. Tacky, unrealistic, and deadly if you get on her bad side.” She grabbed a protein shake from her purse, cracked it open, and took a sip.
Molly had gorgeous curves, shiny dark hair, and a sweet, cherubic face. Even though they all told her she was perfect the way she was, she had an on-again, off-again relationship with fad diets.
“So what’s all the talk about a houseboat?” Juliette asked.
“Hollywood Houseboat,” Gertie said excitedly. “It’s coming here.”
Juliette tried to remember where she’d heard the name before. “That’s a reality show, right?”
Gertie groaned. “I forget you spend all your spare time with plants. Yes, it’s a reality show. The one where pampered celebrities have to live on a boat together and do outdoorsy things so we can all watch them suffer.”
“I think I saw an ad for it,” Emma said vaguely.
“You know,” Gertie said, pointing a finger between them. “Sometimes I wonder how we became friends. It was the best show last season. The houseboat was stationed in Maui, and the celebrities had to swim with sharks, and one girl had a panic attack because—”
“—Even though she plays a lifeguard on her show,” Molly interjected, “she doesn’t actually know how to swim. She just flailed in the water, screaming while sharks circled her because of all the commotion.”
Juliette gave a lopsided grin. “I’m totally up for watching some of that.”
“Well, get ready, because they’re filming the second season,
” Gertie said. “And this year they’re coming here, to Pine Cove Island. They’re going to be docked right in the harbor for the rest of June and most of July.”
“Doing what?” Emma asked. “This place is a far cry from Maui.”
“Yeah, we don’t have hot surfer guys and hula dancers here,” Juliette said. “Unless you count old Betty Zimmerman when she’s been drinking. Did you hear she bruised a hip last week trying to dance on the pool table at O’Malley’s?”
“Never mind all that,” Gertie said excitedly. “This is bigger news, ladies. Because guess who’s going to be on Hollywood Houseboat this season?”
“Thor?” Juliette asked. “Please say Thor.”
Emma’s eyes flew wide. “I thought you liked Loki better. I was team Thor, remember? We argued about it, and everything.”
Juliette lifted a shoulder. “I mean, Thor’s okay. He’ll do in a pinch.”
Gertie smacked her hand on the table. “Will you guys pay attention?” She looked at Molly and shook her head. “They’re hopeless.”
Molly nodded in agreement.
“Okay, who?” Juliette asked. “Just tell us.”
“Brock Templeton, from Surfers Down Under.” Molly bounced in her chair, her cherub face pink with excitement.
“Wow,” Juliette said. Brock was a hotshot surfer who had his own TV show for a few years. He now lived in LA and did commercials for his wildly successful sports drink.
“I don’t really care that he’s gone through two and a half fiancées,” Molly gushed. “I just want to see if he still has rock-hard abs. And I want to hear him say things in his supersexy Australian accent. Like ‘G’day, lassie.’” She fanned herself, giggling.
“I think ‘lassie’ would be Irish,” Emma said thoughtfully. “Or Scottish, maybe.”
“It doesn’t matter what he says,” Molly said in exasperation. “He could read the instruction manual to my dishwasher and it would be sexy, as long as he did it with that accent.”