Lena looked over her hair, coming close to do so, having no compunction about putting her hands in it to check it over. “And they still look fucking fantastic on you too. Bitch.”

Quinn sighed and sat on the sand. When Lena didn’t sit, she craned her neck, shielding her eyes from the setting sun with her hand. “You joining me or not?”

“Why would I?”

“Because like it or not, you need a friend. And so do I.”

Lena hesitated. “I’m not very good at being a friend.”

“Just sit.”

“I’m wearing linen.”

“Fine,” Quinn said. “Suit yourself. But I was going to open up to you and whine, and make you feel really good about yourself.”

“Well, hell, if you’re going to make me feel good about myself . . .” Lena gingerly sat, carefully brushing off her hands. “Go ahead. Compliment me.”

Quinn laughed. “Compliment you? Are you serious? You hijacked my hair, have used every opportunity to make fun of me, and you actively tried to steal away the guy I was seeing . . .”

“You said you were going to make me feel good about myself—Wait. Was? Did Mick dump you on your annoyingly great ass?”

“I dumped him,” Quinn said miserably. “But it was totally accidental.”

Lena stared at her and then tipped her head back and laughed.

“It gets worse,” Quinn said miserably. “I’m blowing it with Tilly. If you know anything about teenage girls, now is the time to tell me. All advice is welcome.”

“Tell her to use condoms, don’t be stupid enough to get knocked up, and don’t get fat,” Lena said. “There’s time for all that later, like when you’re old. Or dead.”

“Wow,” Quinn said. “You’re right. You’re really bad at this.”

“Hey, those golden tidbits came straight from my mom when I was a teenager.” She went back to staring at Quinn’s hair. “You really should reconsider using that deep-oil conditioner I wanted you to buy.”

“It was a million dollars.”

“Forty dollars,” Lena said. “And worth every penny. You’re as frizzy as a squirrel on a rainy day.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re not telling people I did your hair, are you?”

Quinn sighed.

Lena was quiet for a moment. “So you’re really not seeing Mick anymore?”

“I’m not sure.” Quinn turned and met Lena’s gaze. “Besides, what does it matter? You were going after him whether I was or wasn’t.”

Lena let out a low, mirthless laugh. “Come on,” she said. “We both know I don’t have a shot as long as you’re in the room.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re not with Boomer, who clearly loves and adores you.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Such as you enjoy sabotaging your own happiness?”

Lena stared out at the water for a long time. “I’m an alcoholic,” she said quietly. “Recovering, but still. Boomer runs a bar and he . . .” She shook her head.

“What?”

“He has a problem. With alcohol. He’s gone to rehab in the past, but it didn’t stick. He says he wasn’t ready then but . . . I can’t . . .” She shook her head. “He’s a bad influence on me.”

Quinn felt a wave of genuine sympathy roll over her. “Can he get help?”

“Of course he can. The question is will he, and the answer is no, at least not for me.”

“You’ve talked to him?” Quinn asked.

Lena just looked out at the water.

“You haven’t talked to him,” Quinn said.

“Look, if a guy can’t read my mind and figure out my admittedly mercurial moods, then he’s not for me.”

“You’re scared,” Quinn said. Marveled. “Holy shit, who would’ve guessed that the badass Lena is running scared?”

“Shut up,” Lena said without much heat.

Which meant she was right. “So what’s this thing with Mick then? Just a way to make Boomer feel jealous so he’ll kick it into gear?”

“Maybe I’m trying to save Mick from making a mistake with a spoiled city girl.”

“Okay. Good talk.” Quinn stood up, brushed herself off, and turned toward her car.

“Now who’s chicken?”

“Still you!” Quinn yelled back. “Talk to Boomer!”

MICK CAME BACK into Wildstone on Monday for the night’s bimonthly city council meeting. It turned out to be a crowded affair. There wasn’t a lot to do here at night. Drinking at the Whiskey River, making out on the dunes, hitting the occasional moonlight surf contest . . . and going to Wildstone city council meetings.

Just about everyone in town was there. His mom. Lena. Greta and Trinee.

But not Quinn, which he knew because he searched the crowd. He didn’t acknowledge the disappointment. She wouldn’t be here, of course she wouldn’t, she wasn’t staying in town.

He did enjoy the surprise on city manager Tom Nichols’s face when he spotted Mick in the audience.

The meeting droned on, but when the time was appropriate and people were allowed to speak or ask questions, Mick stood up. He asked several questions, all pertaining to the outside contracting of construction projects and other jobs.

“This isn’t the time or place—” Tom began, but several other people stood up to join Mick, including some of the local businessmen Mick had been talking to: Lonnie and Cruz Rodriguez, Rick Espy, and Tyler Coronado, among others.

“Isn’t it?” Lonnie Rodriguez asked. “I’ve been asking you all year and got nowhere.”

More people stood up, and as the attendees got riled up and more assertive, their city manager got less polite. The mayor, Camille Olsen, an elected official in her last term, tried to restore order and failed, finally gesturing for Mick to go on and finish with his question.

“We’d like specifics for what’s being done to attract visitors and boost the local economy,” he said.

This was followed by a lot of vocal agreement. Everyone wanted to know what was being done.

“How is this your business?” Tom asked. “You don’t even live here anymore.”

“He bought property,” Lonnie Rodriguez said. “Mine and the winery. And maybe the B and B too, so it’s very much his business.”

Mick knew better than to think anything could remain quiet in Wildstone, but he wasn’t thrilled about this public statement of his business dealings. Everyone, including his mom, was suddenly looking at him, reading too much into it. “I’m not a local anymore,” he emphasized. “But I do have a vested interest, same as everyone else.”

Tom spouted some well-worded verbiage that didn’t really answer anything, and right after that the mayor took back control and closed the meeting.

Afterward, Mick’s mom hugged him. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d bought property here in Wildstone?” she asked, looking thrilled.

“I didn’t want you to make too much of it.”

“Too late,” she said, smiling big.