The Magnolia Sisters (Magnolia Sisters #1) - Michelle Major Page 0,9
in front of her as she reached two twig-like arms around the back of her head, fingers tugging at her long, dark hair.
Another round of giggles drifted up from whatever video was playing. Her far too attractive firefighter daddy needed to buy his daughter a pair of headphones.
The girl let out a frustrated cry and slammed the brush she held against the iPad, sending it hurtling off the picnic table and onto the grass.
Avery sighed, lifting her gaze toward the painted Victorian house and wondering where the girl’s dad was at the moment. And what about a mom? She hated that her stomach clenched at the thought of Carrie’s landlord with another woman. What did she care about her sexy neighbor? He was a complication her already complicated life didn’t need.
She tugged on the hem of the tank she’d worn to bed and padded downstairs. Carrie had decorated the small house with overstuffed furniture, shelves filled with all sorts of books and small knickknacks, and a variety of colorful art posters hanging on the walls. Avery was somewhat surprised none of Niall’s paintings hung in the house. If she hadn’t known it for a fact, she never would have guessed that the daughter of the famous artist lived here.
The coffeepot on the counter called her name, but she bypassed the kitchen and let herself out the door, walking across the thick lawn. It was only seven thirty, but already the muggy air and bright sun hinted at the record-breaking summer heat forecasted for the day.
“iPads don’t grow on trees,” she said, bending to pick up the device from the ground before sliding onto the bench across from Violet.
The girl’s mouth took on a mulish pout. “I hate my hair,” she whispered.
“We could cut it off,” Avery offered conversationally. “I bet you’d be cute with it shaped around your ears. There’re probably scissors in Carrie’s place. If you come with me—”
“You’re not cutting it,” the girl interrupted, sounding scandalized. “I’ll look like a boy.”
“You could never look like a boy,” Avery told her. It was true. Avery might not like kids much, but she could appreciate that Violet had won the genetic lottery. Her skin was creamy against her rich brown hair, her dark eyes framed by long lashes—the kind grown women used copious amounts of mascara to achieve. The girl’s father had the same lashes.
“Why are you staying at Carrie’s?” Violet demanded.
“I’m in town visiting and she offered it to me.”
“What’s your name?”
“Avery.”
The girl studied her for a long moment. “I don’t like you.”
“I can live with that,” Avery answered, nodding.
They sat in silence for several moments until Avery finally reached out and tapped a finger against the iPad’s screen. “Why are you watching out here? Is it a show your dad won’t let you see?”
Violet shook her head. “It wasn’t a show. I was learning how to braid my hair. Margo always has her hair done at school, and I told her I was going to do something real good with mine. I was s’posed to stay at Mommy’s last night. She forgot about me. Daddy thinks he can do hair, but he’s bad.” The girl picked up the iPad and climbed off the picnic bench. “I didn’t want him to get hurty feelings so I tried to learn. I’m bad, too.”
She turned and walked away, and Avery felt an unfamiliar flood of warmth for the girl. Avery knew all about trying to make do on her own and failing miserably, but that didn’t explain the urge to wrap her arms around Violet’s bony shoulders and pull her close. Avery didn’t do that kind of affection. One day in Magnolia was already messing with her head.
“I can braid hair,” she called as the girl started up the steps to the main house.
Violet returned to the picnic table. “I just told you I don’t like you,” she said, clutching the iPad to her chest. “Why would you do my hair?”
“Your friend Margo sounds like a real brat,” Avery answered, earning the barest hint of a smile from the girl.