Romance Rules for Werewolves (Charming Cove, #3)(12)

I pointed out my preferred pastries.

As she packaged them, I asked, “Do you know of any contractors who might be looking for work? I’m trying to fix up Lavender House.”

She looked up at me, her eyebrows rising. “Really?”

“Really.”

She grimaced. “Sorry, lamb. No one will take that job. Plenty have tried over the years, but the house just kicked them out.”

“Not a single person is looking to make a few quid?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. It’s been a time since the last attempt. Perhaps there are some young lads who can help you out. Want me to ask around?”

“I’d love that, thank you.” I paid for my breakfast, then scrawled my name and number on the back of the receipt and pushed it toward her. “If you find anyone, they can contact me. I’ll pay well.”

“I’ll do my best, lamb, but no promises.”

“I appreciate anything you can do.”

She winked. “You’ve got it.”

I said my goodbyes, then walked toward the exit. At the door, I turned and asked, “Do you know of a salon in town where I could get my hair cut?”

“Certainly. Minxie's. Go right out the door and head down a few buildings.”

“Thank you.” I raised my bag of pastries in farewell, then went out to the car. Poa had left the vehicle, though I had no idea how, given her lack of opposable thumbs, and found a spot on a bench across the street.

I joined her, admiring the autumn flowers that rustled in the breeze and the blue sea behind. The wind blew through her whiskers as she turned to look at the bag in my hand.

“Don’t worry, I got you a sausage roll.”

You’re not so bad, you know.

“Why, thank you.” I laid the roll out on a napkin and opened her latte so she could lap it out of the cup.

We ate in companionable silence, listening to the waves crashing on the rocks below and the gulls calling to each other as they wheeled overhead. It was one of the loveliest mornings I’d had in a long, long time.

Once I’d finished my truly divine pastry and latte, I headed off to the salon. Poa stayed behind to nap in the sun. On my way, I passed a bookstore and a chippy called Codswollop’s. A clothing shop caught my eye, and I decided to stop in after I got my hair done.

I found the salon situated between a small grocery store and an off-license that seemed to specialize in uniquely magical libations. A bell above the door jingled as I entered, and the scent of shampoo and roses greeted me. The space was decorated in ivory and pale pink, and a woman sat in one of the three salon chairs, bent over her mobile as she tapped away at the screen. As soon as the bell chimed, she looked up and smiled at me.

“Hello!” She stood. “Are you in for a cut?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t made an appointment, but yes, if you’ve got the space.”

“Well, you’re in luck! My last appointment just canceled.” She held out her hand. “I’m Minxie, the best stylist in Charming Cove.”

I shook it and smiled. “I’m Isobel, and I’m looking for an entirely new look.”

Minxie clapped her hands, her face lighting up. “Oh, excellent! A makeover?”

“Yes, exactly.” Excitement thrummed through me as she bustled me over to the hair washing station and began chattering about options.

For a moment, I was tempted to give her free rein. She was the professional stylist, after all. But then I remembered that I’d been giving away all of my decisions to Tommy for too many years. I was going to make them myself.

“Short,” I said. “Above the shoulders. Something light and fun.”

“Got it.” She smiled. “You’re going to love it, I promise.”

I quizzed her about the town as she worked, learning that the weather was almost always good because of all the excess magic in the air and that the clothing shop I’d seen was run by three sisters in their eighties who would rain hell upon anyone who didn’t return the clothes to the proper rack when they were finished trying them on.

“Noted.” I smiled, liking the sound of Charming Cove already. “What about contractors or handymen? Are there any you know of who are looking for work?”

“Oh, loads. Most of them probably have jobs lined up for the next couple of months, but I’m sure I can find you someone. What were you thinking?”

“I just inherited Lavender House from my grandmother. You know, the one on the hill by the sea, just outside of town?”

“Lavender House?” She grimaced. “That changes things, I’m afraid.”

“Really?” I shouldn’t be surprised, since Margot had said the same thing, but I’d thought perhaps she was exaggerating.

Minxie nodded apologetically. “No one in the area will work there. The house is entirely unwelcoming. In an aggressive way, if you know what I mean.”

I didn’t, but I just nodded along, disappointed. Maybe I could find some workers from farther afield.

“Are you planning to live there, then?” she asked, picking up the dryer.

“If I can fix it up, yes.”

“Well, good luck. Your grandmother tried for years, but no one would do the work.”

“I guess I’ll have to learn some new skills, then.” YouTube could teach me how to repair a house, right?