Annabel Currin held up a cocktail dress in the mirror at one of her favorite boutiques. The backless light blue goddess gown with a high side slit had a very classic feel. Yet, it also had a bit of the Bohemian vibe that was part of her signature style. She needed to get her mind off the terrible fight she’d had with her fiancé, Mason Harrison, and its ugly aftermath, which still had her reeling.

But she didn’t want to think about any of that today.

“What do you think?” Annabel stared at her friend Frankie Walsh’s reflection in the mirror.

A broad smile spread across the woman’s face and her green eyes twinkled. “I love that color against your complexion, Annabel. You’re going to look amazing in that dress at the American Cancer Society gala. Wait until Mason sees you in this.”

“You think so?” Annabel scrunched her nose as she studied her honey-colored skin. The product of a father with deep Irish roots and a Kenyan mother with gorgeous, deep brown skin. Her question was in reference to the earlier part of her friend’s statement. She couldn’t care less what Mason would think about the dress.

“Absolutely. You look incredible in everything. You could wear an oversize T-shirt to this event and half the internet would be trying to copy you.”

“Thanks.” Annabel gave the woman a warm smile, glad she and Frankie had become friends.

She’d given Francesca Walsh, a hand on the Currin Ranch at the time, an impromptu makeover for a big event she was attending that night with Annabel’s older brother, Xander. A lot had changed in the short time since then. Frankie was now Xander’s fiancée and the newly discovered long-lost heir to the Langley fortune.

The casual acquaintance they’d formed during that makeover had grown into a bona fide friendship after Xander and Frankie’s engagement. She was a bubbly, incredibly sweet person. Annabel’s brother was lucky to have her.

Frankie bit her lower lip and frowned.

“What is it?” Annabel asked.

“Our friendship is still new, so tell me if I’m crossing any boundaries here.” Frankie sucked in a deep breath. “But is something going on with you today?”

“Why do you ask?” Annabel turned back to the mirror for one last look at the dress. Then she hung it on a rack with a few others they’d selected as contenders.

“You don’t seem like your usual confident self. Yesterday, you were giddy. You said you had this big happy secret you couldn’t wait to tell us all about. And today you’re like... I don’t know.” Frankie tugged her hair, twisted into a single long braid, over one shoulder. “A deflated balloon. Like you’re just going through the motions. I get the distinct impression it’s related to that disagreement you had with Mason. The one you don’t want to talk about. Is everything okay between you two?”

Annabel’s eyes stung with tears. She didn’t respond. She focused on her work instead—the real reason they were there. To capture footage for her popular vlog channel.

She was a fashion vlogger with a huge following, and the boutique owner, who was sponsoring this episode, was comping her a dress for a charity gala she’d be attending.

Annabel often gifted makeovers to followers locally or when she attended fashion and makeup industry events. But she’d decided to go beyond playing fairy godmother to a few select women. She’d decided to open Fairy Godmother, a local consignment shop and a salon that offered makeover services, which would allow her to help a lot more people.

She ignored her friend’s question as she busied herself with setting up the camera lighting. “Now that I have a handful of options, I’ll record the vlog post ‘discovering’ each of the dresses. I’ll discuss why they work for my body type and complexion. I’ll also show a few of the dresses that didn’t work for me, including an honest assessment of why they didn’t. Then I’ll try on all of the final contenders before selecting ‘the one.’”

“Did I overstep?” Frankie had asked to come along and help. She stooped to take the next lighting fixture out of its storage case to set it up.

“No, of course not. You’re just a little too good at this friendship thing, I guess.” Annabel gave a nervous laugh. She studied Frankie for a moment, then cleared her throat. “Hey, if I told you something, could you keep it just between us for now? Even from my brother?”

Frankie seemed to roll the request over in her head. “It’s nothing dangerous or life-threatening, right? Nothing he needs to know?”

“No, nothing like that.”

A slow smile lit Frankie’s green eyes. She squeezed Annabel’s arm. “Then, of course.”

“Actually, maybe it would be better if I showed you after we’re done here.” Annabel sighed, hoping that this reveal would go better than the last.

* * *

Butterflies flitted in Annabel’s stomach as she opened the rusty lock and led Frankie through the doors of a small older building that had once been a celebrated hair salon.

Her favorite pair of old, worn black-and-brown cowboy boots clopped against the tile floor as they walked inside. The stale air and lingering pungent scent of leftover chemicals assaulted their senses. Dust swirled in the sunlight peeking through

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