Free Hex on the Beach (The Magic & Mixology Mystery Series Book 1) by Gina LaManna Page A

brushed his lips against my cheek before whispering in my ear, “You can try .”
    “Get away from me,” I said, shrinking back. “I still don’t know your name.”
    He finally let go of my arm and backed away until he reached the top of the staircase. He surveyed me, his gaze traveling first from my sea-salt ’fro down to my shoulders, where his eyes lingered on the bare skin.
    I self-consciously pulled the sundress straps back up onto my shoulders from where they’d fallen, but not before his gaze traveled down to my legs, which were exposed to mid-thigh, thanks to the breeze. I moved just as fast as I could, trying to pull my dress down to my knees.
    But my efforts were in vain. I yanked the fabric toward my knees. But instead of covering my body, the jerking motion flipped the hammock upside down. My arms flailed, searching for firm ground, which I found all too soon. With my face.
    Lying smack on the wood, nose pressed into the porch, I groaned. Then a gust of wind sent the edge of my dress sailing up and over my head.
    Excellent.
    When I managed to get past the embarrassment of flailing like a madwoman, the pain started to hit. I fought my dress down, sat up, and waited to die from mortification.
    It didn’t happen immediately. And the handsome stud was still there a second later, so instead of facing him, I closed my eyes and willed a gigantic wave to come swallow me whole.
    “Go ahead, laugh.” I waved, keeping my eyes firmly shut. “Hardy-har.”
    Silence met my ears.
    Mustering up my last ounce of courage, I peeked through one eyelid, seeing nothing but miles and miles of water, a beach, and the steps leading up to the porch. I stood up and moved to the staircase, scanning up and down the beach. No one in sight.
    Huh. I shouldn’t be surprised he’d disappeared—The Isle was filled with magic of all sorts—but he sort of chose an awkward time to just leave . I hated to admit I was a little annoyed. Didn’t he like what he saw?
    I gasped, holding a hand to my mouth as I realized even I didn’t know the answer to that. I’d used the restroom once, but it wasn’t as if I’d taken a good long look.
    So I did what any sane person would do. I peeked.
    “What the heck are you doing?” a female voice asked.
    My face flushing red for the zillionth time in the last minute, I let my dress drop back to my knees. “I just…”
    “She’s new, give her a break,” a second voice replied. “Cripes, Zinnia. You’re so rude . What is it with people on this island?”
    Two girls stood at the bottom of the staircase, as opposite as opposites could be. Both girls were somewhere around my age, mid-to late-twenties, if I had to guess.
    The first voice belonged to a girl who could only be described as dark. Her black hair hung around her chin in a sharp bob, while her cheekbones matched her severe haircut. All angles and pointy features, she looked terrifying in leather pants, smoky eye makeup, and a tight black tank top.
    “You’re Zinnia?” I asked this badass, rocker-type chick.
    She crossed her arms. “Who wants to know?”
    The other girl rolled her eyes. “Excuse my cousin. She thinks she’s tough. Spoiler alert—she’s not .”
    “Am too.” Zinnia glared at the other girl.
    If Zinnia was all badass dark clothes, hair, and makeup, her cousin was the picture of sunny. Gorgeous blond locks tumbled down her shoulders, bouncing happily as she walked up the stairs. A long, swishy skirt danced about her ankles, covering a one-piece neon-orange bathing suit that showed off her plump physique.
    “I’m Poppy, the nice one of the two,” she said, extending a hand. “This is our cousin Zinnia, the mean one.”
    I shook her hand, my face twisting into a confused smile. “Our cousin?”
    “Oh, right.” Poppy smacked her forehead. “I’m Mimsey’s only daughter. Zinnia there, she belongs to Trinket. She’s the oldest of seven.”
    “Your parents are Mimsey and Trinket?” My jaw hung open. “So