Chapter 1

1

ISLA

The early morning air is fresh and brisk, orange spreads across blue, and waves crash against the sand. I slip off my sandals and my feet sink into the cool sand. It won’t warm until the sun’s high in the sky, which allows me to walk comfortably without shoes. As soon as it hits midday, the sand will burn everyone’s feet, but that won’t stop people from bounding down the dunes, running through the water, and crowding the beach. But it brings me work, so I can’t complain that the beach I grew up on has attracted the tourists.

Walking to work via the beach means I get a little bit of quiet time and can experience the beach how I remember it. Sand kicks behind me as I stroll and attempt to avoid the water so it doesn’t stick to me.

If the sand’s dry, I can brush it off easily and get to work quicker. The air has been cooler recently, leaving the oppressive heat behind and turning the waves a dark grey. I prefer it this way. It’s quieter, more peaceful. A laugh escapes me as a woman throws a stick at the water for a Labrador who bounds after it. Tongue lolling all the way.

Once I walk the length of the beach and people begin to crowd it, I stride up the boardwalk and put my sandals on. Coffee is needed before I open the shop.

Having my nail salon on The Esplanade brings in a lot of clients. It’s the main access to the beach and tourists like to check out the shops after they get sunburnt while people who grew up here are loyal clients.

My sandals slap against the footpath, leaving sand in their wake as I head to Deja Brew, the coffee shop a few stores up from me. Lily makes the best scones and iced coffee. Nothing can tear me away from her store. The bell chimes when I open the door into the warmth of the shop, the air smelling of sugary goodness and carbs.

I smile at the girl behind the till who puts in my usual order. But I add an extra coffee today.

The girl yells, “Lily, Isla’s here.”

Lily appears with flour on her apron and her hair in two buns—she always has fun hairstyles, a different one each day. “Getting the usual?”

“Yeah.” I brush dark hair behind my ears and wince when I catch a knot. I should’ve braided it before walking along the beach.

Lily raises a brow when I’m handed my order and she sees the extra coffee. “This isn’t your usual.” She taps the second coffee. “This is only a monthly occurrence.”

My cheeks heat under her prodding gaze. I shrug.

“Is it today?”

“Yes.” A latte I never drink sits beside my iced coffee.

She leans over the counter and grins. “How are you feeling? Excited? Nervous? Full of sexual tension?”

“Shhh.” I send a paranoid glance around the store. “I’m fine. The appointment’s with him every month.”

“And every month you fall more in love with him. Why don’t you tell him?”

“Because he doesn’t see me like that and I don’t want to lose our friendship.” I rearrange the coffee, making sure I won’t drop the latte.

Dominic only drinks lattes, which I learned early on during our standing appointment when I made the mistake of switching up the orders to keep life interesting. Dom owns the bar Next Door across the street from my nail salon. We opened our businesses around the same time, and I’d gone to introduce myself the day I opened. We’d both had long days and ended up talking about books. Somehow, I’d made a joke about painting his nails and decorating him with fun designs for practice… And he’d said yes.

I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t believe he’d show. But he came to the appointment and continues to do so three years on. He’s never complained about it or asked to stop.

Some people comment in the bar about the nail polish, but strangely enough, it gets me clients when the right people see the designs. I buy him coffee every month and get to spend uninterrupted time with him.

We have the salon to ourselves. It’s quiet, and most importantly, just us. He doesn’t know that over the years I’ve started to crave seeing him, crave our early morning appointments, and I drop into the bar more often now. Just to see his face.

Unfortunately for me, Dom is handsome with his bronze hair and greyish blue eyes like the sea during autumn. He’s tall and broad with a thick chest I imagine resting on top of me. Not enough to crush me, only enough to be surrounded by him. It turns me into a puddle when I’m around him, and it’s gotten worse the longer I’ve known him. But he doesn’t see me the same way, so I don’t bring it up. Don’t want to ruin our friendship.

I’ll take whatever he’s willing to give me.

“You have to tell him one day, Isla. What if he feels the same way?” Lily asks.

“He doesn’t.” I blow out a breath. I’m seeing him soon. Won’t dwell on what I can’t have. Not right now, at least. Though, when I’m home all bets are off.

Lily squeezes my free hand. “One day, I’ll lock you together in the same room and won’t let you out until you admit your feelings.”

“I’ll die before I say anything. I’m happy with what I have. See you next week for your appointment. I’m thinking an autumn theme.” I leave the warmth of the store, refusing to think about the strained smile Lily sent me off with.

What does she know? If there was any sign he had feelings for me, it would be different, but he’s never given any indication. And I don’t want to lose him.

The tray tips precariously as I fish out my keys to unlock the shop and duck inside, flicking on the lights. The tray goes on the desk beside me while I set up my station. I haven’t figured out what design to do yet.

Sometimes Dom adds his opinion, but usually I have free rein. If I’m honest with myself, I don’t understand why he keeps letting me do this. Since I don’t always try a new design but do a solid colour instead—which I don’t need to practice—it kind of defeats the purpose of him coming. I like to think it’s because he enjoys spending time with me as well, but that’s wishful thinking. Maybe he likes getting his nails done. I sigh and pour warm water in a bowl to set at the station.

The door opens and my heart starts to pound in my chest. I wipe damp palms on my jeans.

“Hey, Isla. Sorry I’m late.”

As if being a minute late counts. I wave his apology away. “Late night at the bar?” I swallow hard. He’s in a charcoal hoodie, which brightens his hair and eyes. I love when he dresses cosy, can imagine lying on the couch beside him while he looks like that, with messier hair from my fingers running through it.

He huffs a laugh. “You have no idea.”

“What happened?” I sit behind my station and he collapses in the chair in front of me, setting a book on the station beside us. He runs a hand through his hair before leafing through colour options. I hand him the latte, which he takes with a smile.

“Some guys got into it, had a few sick calls. The usual.”

Reaching over, I squeeze his hand—the only part of him I’m comfortable touching. His hands are mine. Logically I know they aren’t, but it feels like it after all this time. “You okay?”

He tugs my hand closer to him, links our fingers together and brushes a thumb over the strawberry design on my nails. My skin is darker compared to his pale skin. “I’m good. What are we doing today?”

He releases my hand, and I miss the warmth. “Whatever you want.”

“We haven’t done a design in a while. Anything you want to try?”

I shrug and try to think of something. “We could do black with flames?”

He nods and points at a bright orange from the colour book. Noting the colour number, I go to the wall where the polish is on display. After finding it, I spin around and Dom’s eyes flick up quickly, settling on my face, cheeks tinged red. Maybe he’s too hot with his hoodie on.

“Do you need me to turn the heat down?” I finish setting up the station and take his hand to soak in water. My favourite part about doing this is how much I get to touch him. No questions asked. I grab his other hand to remove the polish. We alternate his nails, so one hand gets a break each month. This month his left hand will have flames.

“It’s fine. I don’t want you cold. Have you finished the book yet?”

I grin. “It was amazing. I loved it.”

During our monthly visits, we also exchange books. It’s almost a book club. We don’t read the same books, but lend each other our favourites and then discuss them at the next session. He suggested it when I complained no one in my family liked to read, that I had no one to talk to about it. The following month, he brought along his favourite mystery, and I gave him my favourite fantasy.

Do I like mystery and thriller books? Nope. But he brought them for me, so I read them. His recommendations have gotten a little softer over time, less gritty and more to my taste, which I’m grateful for. “It’s in my bag for you with a crime romance.” We found blending the two genres we like together worked well to give us something to discuss.

“I have a fantasy I think you’ll like. Did you like the romance?” He nudges my hand. “See, I found a book with romance for you.”

I dry his hand off and begin filing his nails while the other soaks. “I did, but the guy took forever to admit his feelings.”

Dom tilts his head as he watches me work. “He waited until he was sure the girl returned his feelings.”

“They could have been together so much longer if they were open about it.”

“He probably didn’t want to get hurt.”

My hand rearranges his to apply polish while his other hand dries. Dom makes a good point, and I inwardly cringe at how similar the story is to my feelings. I’m not making a move because I don’t know anything about Dom’s feelings, so I can hardly blame the character for being cautious.

“I see your point,” I say with a smile. “When feelings are involved, everything’s messy.” Dom’s hand flinches and I pull the brush back quickly to avoid smudging his cuticle. “Okay?” I ask, stroking his thumb. Usually he stays still. It’s not like him to fidget.

He coughs. “Fine. What book did you bring?”

“I’ve got the crime book but also brought a fantasy where a girl finds out magic exists and has to figure out how to live in the world. There’s mystery, intrigue, with a little bit of romance. I think you’ll like it.”

“If you liked it, I’m sure I will.”

With a detail brush, I start painting on flames. “I promise next time I won’t bring a fantasy. I’ll find the grittiest thriller.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’ll find something good for you. I know you don’t love fantasy…” My words trail off when he takes the hand I’m not painting and brushes a piece of hair out of my eyes.

“You don’t like thrillers, and that’s fine. I like reading the fantasy books you bring me.”

“Really?” Why did he stop touching my hair?

He smirks. “In fact, next month I want your favourite vampire book.”

A flush spreads across my cheeks, and I lower my head to finish the flames remembering the last vampire book I read. No way am I letting him read that. I do not want an awkward month talking about vampire sex and blood play. No, thank you. I clear my throat. “Sure.”

I jump when the door opens and Jess—the girl opening today—bustles through, her bag slamming into chairs as she rushes to the staff room yelling a hello.

“Is it time to open already?” I tap my phone, surprised to see it’s nearly ten A.M. Time means nothing to me when I’m talking to Dom. After I add the finishing touches to his nails, I rub moisturiser on his hands, my last opportunity to touch him for another month. “All done.” I reluctantly release his hands.

“Thanks. They look great.”

I roll my eyes. “You didn’t even look at them.”

“I know they’ll be great because you painted them.” He hands me the book he brought. “There’s a cliffhanger, so text me if you want the second one.”

“If it’s a big cliffhanger, I’ll storm the bar for it.”

He laughs softly and takes the books I hold out for him. “I’ll leave it in the back for you. Thanks, Isla.” He waves at me and leaves the shop with a small smile directed at Jess—I’m definitely not jealous.

Sighing, I watch him walk away, eyes locked on how his jeans cup his ass. Thankfully, his hoodie isn’t covering it. During winter he wears a coat which does and it’s a travesty. There’s still a few weeks until then for me to savour.

“Asked him out yet?” Jess says with a smirk, the coins she adds to the till clinking.

“You know I didn’t.” I begin to clean my station, wiping everything down.

“You should.”

“It’ll ruin everything.”

“He brings you books, Isla. You have to take the chance. What if it works out?”

I gaze out the window, but he’s disappeared. “What if it doesn’t? What if I lose him instead?”