Going Coastal (Echo Cove #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

LARK

N othing humbles you more than your boyfriend of over a year dumping you mid-rinse at the shampoo bowl when you’re fingers deep in his highlighted hair. He didn’t even offer me the courtesy of a gentle segue into the conversation, just dropped the bomb like his seven carelessly uttered words didn’t throw my life out of balance.

Earlier that morning

The bell above the door to my salon jingles musically, and a wide smile stretches my normally stoic face as Jake waltzes in. Jake and I have been together off and on for a little over a year now, but this time things couldn’t be better. Sure, he’s a little bit of a workaholic, but so am I. It’s why we always gravitate back to each other even when we’re “broken up.”

Jake works in finance at one of the biggest firms in New York, and we met shortly after I moved here to open my second salon. Wilder Waves is my East Coast baby, and I treat it as such, spending most of my waking hours with a pair of shears in my hand or poring over back-of-house details like accounting ledgers and supply orders.

He walked into Wilder one day as I was closing things down and not only did he embrace my surly attitude, he also managed to charm me into staying late to touch up his hair before a big meeting. The rest is history. We had our first date three days later; the very same day he returned from Chicago and our relationship has been a whirlwind ever since.

“Hey, you!” My resting frown transforms and I smile widely at my handsome boyfriend. Growing up in a tiny coastal town in Washington State, my tastes in boys always veered towards the laid back surfer variety, and I didn’t stray far from the stereotype with Jacob Peters.

Thanks to my skills with bleach and his year-round membership to the tanning salon a few doors down, Jake is able to keep up appearances and maintain his California born and raised golden boy looks, which definitely sparked my initial attraction.

Since then, we see each other whenever possible. Mid-week dates, late dinners at the salon, even the rare weekend getaway when he could be pulled away from the office for more than twelve hours at a time.

His smile is lukewarm at best when he sits down in my chair, instantly setting off red flags. “Hey, Lar.”

Ugh. I’ve always hated that nickname. As if Lark isn’t short enough, let’s shorten it even more. I mentioned it in passing a few months into our relationship and he stopped for a while, but whenever he’s upset with me or we’re around his colleagues he goes back to using it with a smile on his face.

I don’t manage to catch my grimace before it eclipses my smile, but Jake is doing his best to look anywhere but at me, so he doesn’t see it anyway. Not wanting to get into it in front of my employees and customers, I heave a quiet sigh and get to work mixing his color.

His base color is already a dimensional sandy brown, so adding in some natural-looking highlights for depth gives his hair the sun-kissed look it would probably have naturally if he didn’t spend eighteen hours a day inside a dim office building.

Once the color is in his hair, I leave Jake to process and head to the back to fold towels. Every attempt at conversation was met with one-word answers or hums as he scrolled through Instagram. Things were totally fine when he came to bed last night, or at least I thought they were. I can’t figure out what would have caused this abrupt change in attitude.

“What’s up with Serious Black out there brooding at your station? He’s even grumpier than you normally are,” Quellis asks as they dump a new load of towels into the industrial washing machine. A snort escapes at the terrible pun, and I roll my eyes at my nosy manager-turned-friend.

“I’m not sure, honestly. He came in for his normal highlights but he’s been weird since he walked through the door.”

They scoff, aiming a droll look my way. “When is he not weird with you, Lark? The man is drier than a piece of toast in the Sahara. He never has time for you, and when he does he spend most of it on his phone. You deserve better.”

Heat rises to my cheeks at her observation, so I turn around at the folding table and pull more towels from the basket. “Jake is just busy with work, and I get that. I mean, how much time do I spend here at the salon every day?”

“That’s different, Lark. First of all, you were building a second location from the ground up and gathering all new clientele. It’s not like you joined the ranks at some huge salon and were able to take time off. You poured your blood, sweat, and tears into this place to make sure it was as successful as Wild Waves is. ”

They aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know. At twenty-eight years old, I never imagined I would own two thriving businesses, let alone ones on opposite coasts. Once my flagship location Wild Waves started doing well in my hometown of Echo Cove, Washington, I hired somebody to manage it and took off for New York at the insistence of my family.

It’s always been my dream to run a successful salon on the East Coast, and once my work started getting attention from high-profile clients thanks to my rockstar brother, I was able to make it happen.

Sighing, I finally give up on folding and hop up to sit on the edge of the table, swinging my feet into the shelves below. “I know, Quel. But he’s a big shot at Hetler too, and has been understandably busy with all the new accounts the Senior Partners have dumped on his shoulders.”

They hum, shrugging their delicate shoulders. Quellis is a French native who relocated to New York fifteen years ago when their partner was offered an internship at a major publishing house as a translator. When they first applied for the management position at Wilder , I honestly thought it was a joke application.

They’re beyond overqualified for the position, having owned their own salon in Lyon for more than a decade before relocating. Plus, their name is so unique I kind of thought it had to be fake. Turns out, it’s actually pronounced Keh-leese, as they patiently corrected me in their interview.

What should have been a basic twenty-minute interview turned into a three hour lunch where we swapped life stories and ended with me hiring them on the spot. That was a year ago now and they’ve become a confidante in all aspects of my life. Hell, they run my salon so well I don’t even need to be here, but I love my clients and what I do, so I hang around .

The alarm on my watch beeps and I glance down, startled. Twenty minutes went by in a blink. Hopping down from the table, I give Quel a mock salute. “Well, it doesn't matter now. I’ve gotta go rinse and tone the grump.”

They snicker, taking over the towels. “Best of luck, ma poule .”

The term of endearment has me snorting as I make my way through the salon, only to stop dead when I spot one of my new hires with her hand on Jake’s arm. He’s beaming at her, his smile wider than I’ve seen in months. Taking a deep breath, I calmly walk over to them, plastering on a smile of my own that’s so brittle a stiff breeze could break it.

“Hey Mindy! I see you’ve met my boyfriend.”

Her eyes widen comically before darting to Jake, who isn’t quick enough to hide his wince. “B-boyfriend?”

“Yep! For over a year now.”

Mindy’s mouth snaps shut as she nods frantically. “Right, well. Nice to meet you,” she mumbles, darting away.

Without a word, I raise my eyebrow at Jake, who once again avoids my gaze as I get him situated over the shampoo bowl. With the fate of his precious hair in my hands, I level him with a questioning glare. “What was that about, Jake?”

He sighs heavily, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Can we have this conversation later, Lar? Preferably not in a public place?”

My heart starts racing, nausea stealing over my gut like a riptide. “I’m not a child, Jacob. I’m not going to throw a tantrum in my place of business if you tell me something I don’t like.”

“I think we should see other people.”

The wind is knocked out of my sails in one fell swoop. Outwardly, I’m the picture of cool disinterest. But on the inside? My entire body is a molten hot mixture of embarrassment and anger. “Oh? ”

Jake looks startled at my lack of reaction, which must give him the confidence he needed to forge ahead. “If I’m being completely honest, I’ve been seeing someone else for a while now, and I feel like she meets my personal and professional needs better than you do.”

I clear my throat so I don’t strangle this asshole with the cape currently secured around his neck. “And in what ways do I not meet your personal and professional needs, Jacob?”

It takes genuine effort to keep my fingers gentle as I work the conditioner through the strands of his hair, but I do it anyway because I’m not about to fuck up my salon’s reputation when he goes crying to daddy about a bad service.

Clearing his throat, he stares up at me from his laid-back position. I’ve never noticed before, but he doesn’t even have a double chin when he leans back like this, and that fact makes me irrationally angry. “Come on, Lar. You don’t belong in this world. Everyone that meets you can tell you’re a townie through and through. I mean the only reason you got out of that podunk town is because your brother talked you up to his famous friends.”

I nod along like I understand what he’s saying, but he clearly doesn’t realize just how close I am to taking my shears to his below-average dick. “And what about the rest of the clients I have? The fact that my salon is booked out nearly a year in advance and we have nothing but rave reviews on all platforms?”

He waves a hand through the air like my words are trivial, and I guess to him, they are. “Being popular and semi-decent with a bowl of hair dye doesn’t mean you’re suddenly ready to mingle with the upper-echelon Lark, especially with your little attitude problem.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I know you probably don’t understand, but really think about it, babe. What does it make me look like that my girlfriend is a bitchy hairdresser named Lark ? It’s embarrassing. Do you know how many ‘control your woman’ comments I’ve gotten when you bit a colleague’s head off for something stupid?”

The earlier embarrassment has melted from my body and rage like nothing I’ve felt before takes its place. Those “something stupid” incidents he’s referencing? His coworkers liked to grab my ass when I would help him host dinner parties at his condo. I finally got sick of playing dutiful girlfriend and started slapping hands.

The last thing I need right now is bad press, so with a final deep inhale I slap the button to turn the water off and step away from the station, drying my hands.

“Hey Mindy?” I call across the room. She doesn’t have any clients of her own yet, so I feel comfortable asking her to finish up for me.

Her wide blue eyes meet mine, the earlier panic now making sense. They were likely flirting when I walked up, maybe even making plans to meet up. She hurries over, and I pull her just out of earshot of my ex, doing my best to keep my expression neutral.

“Would you be a dear and tone Mr. Peters for me? Something’s come up and I need to run out for a bit.”

She sags in relief, her normally bright smile back in place as soon as she realizes I’m not going to yell at her. “Sure thing, Lark!”

I smile tightly at her. “Thanks.”

Thankfully the only person in the back of the shop is still Quellis so I’m free to hide in the corner and compose myself before I head to Jake’s place and pack what few belongings I felt comfortable leaving there.

Thank god we don’t live together.

“Lark? Want to tell me why you’re hiding in the storage closet? ”

My eyes are surprisingly dry as I regard my friend, and I sigh loudly. “Jacob just broke up with me.”

Their eyes widen imperceptibly before they nod, sitting down next to me with far more grace than I could ever manage. I’m a klutz on the best of days and unfortunately, my reputation precedes me wherever I go thanks to my brother rudely announcing it during their last tour.

A pat on my hand brings my eyes up to meet warm green ones. “ Ma poule , I’m sorry. I didn’t wish to speak into existence a separation between the two of you. I was simply stating my opinion.”

I shake my head and turn my hand over to grip theirs. “This wasn’t your fault. Apparently he’s been seeing someone. I don’t know for how long, but I do know that she’s ‘ More appropriate for his personal and professional needs’ .” I put air quotes around the words so they know I’m not just making shit up in my head.

They shake their head and stand, helping me up at the same time. Without warning I’m enveloped in a quick but firm hug. Quel has been like a parent to me since I met them, and I’m grateful for the comfort in this moment.

Pulling back, they pin me with a hard stare. “You need rest. And change. Why don’t you take a trip home to see your family and check in on Wild Waves?”

“Quel…”

“ Non .” Their accent thickens in frustration at my lack of immediate agreement, and their finger smushes against my lips to stop me from speaking. “You need to heal. Even if you aren’t feeling it right this moment, the hurt will come, and you will heal faster among family and friends. I have heard you speak nonstop of Echo Cove and how you miss home, so now is your chance to go.”

They nod, like the decision has been made. And, really, hasn’t it? Quel could run this place with their eyes closed, and I only take walk-ins and high-profile clients for this exact reason. I wanted to be able to take off at a moment’s notice if I was needed back in Washington.

Nodding slowly, I glance around the now spotless room, all the laundry from earlier having been folded and neatly put away for the next wave of clients. “Okay then. I guess I should book a flight.”