Pippa never expected to find something that would make her cry. But here she was, halfway in the linen closet and wiping her eyes with a faded, thin beach towel.
She’d been cleaning out the closets when she’d found it. A small scrap of terry cloth with a smiling cartoon puppy on it. It had been cheap when it was new and, honestly, a touch ugly. But Dad had given her that towel when she was nine, and it had been her favorite thing that summer. She’d thought it had been lost—she’d cried over this towel—but here it was, hiding in a linen closet for almost twenty years now. It was almost like magic.
This was definitely going in the keeper pile. Carefully she set it aside, giving it one last caress. Then she dove back into the linen closet. Most of what was in here could only be used for scraps, but maybe there was—
Pippa lifted her head at the faint sound of rumbling. What was that?
A cobweb from a corner fell into her eyes. She blew it out of her face, praying whatever spider had lived in it was long gone.
The noise was an engine, but it was too rumbly to be a car. More like a garbage truck, but why would a garbage truck be coming up the drive? If there was no electricity, there certainly wasn’t going to be garbage service.
An awful thought skittered down her spine. What if it was a tow truck? If someone saw her car on the side of the road and assumed it was abandoned… She might be about to lose what little she had left.
“Oh no,” she whispered. “I have to stop them.”
Twin green eyes blinked out at her from the darkness in the cabinet. She screamed and reared back, heart nearly exploding.
Tybalt leaped out of his hiding place, using her shoulder as a landing pad. He was only a streak of black as he dashed to his next hiding spot. Even though she had to go stop whoever was taking her car, Pippa still reached out for the cat, desperate for one touch.
“Damn,” she muttered when her hand closed on nothing. “Tybalt, I just want to love you!”
The cat was gone though. And the rumbling was still outside.
Feet pounding, tattered pillowcase still clenched in her hand, Pippa tore through the front door.
And stopped dead before she ran smack dab into a… a… a man.
“Holy shit.” The man stepped back as if she were boiling hot water tossed at him. “What the hell?” His thick brows drew together as if she had just absolutely ruined his day simply by appearing.
The sun was low in the sky and at his back. Pippa squinted into it, trying to make out his features beyond the brows and the frown.
“What the heck yourself?” she demanded, her heart pounding so fast it almost hurt. A massive bulldozer sat idling in the driveway, the source of the rumbling she’d heard. The bucket was like a gaping jaw, and the tracks looked to be almost as tall as she was. It was a monster of a machine, terrifying this close up. She had no earthly idea why this man would bring a tractor like that all the way out to her house.
A closer, less panicked look at him revealed he wasn’t just a man—he was a cowboy. The hat on his head and the jeans hugging his legs told her that. Any person could try on a Stetson or wear jeans, but real cowboys did it in a very particular way.
He was young too, maybe late twenties, early thirties. Tall, lean, but strong-looking. And… well, good-looking too. If you liked deep, dark brown eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a firm, almost mean mouth.
Pippa wasn’t certain that she did. She was certain that this man wasn’t happy with finding her and she probably shouldn’t be happy to see him.
He was studying her too, sizing her up. From the way his mouth was set, he wasn’t impressed. She shouldn’t care, but after the year she’d had, really her entire life, it still bruised. Or rather, it pressed on bruises she already had.
“Well?” She popped her hands onto her hips. The pillowcase fluttered like a flowered sash at her waist. “What are you planning to do with that”—she gestured toward the still-idling tractor—“that thing?”
“Tear this place down,” the man said bluntly.
Her heart stopped. He was going to use that massive machine behind him to destroy her refuge. To throw her out of yet one more place, the last place she had.
He didn’t notice her silent distress. “How long have you been squatting here?”
Pippa hated the word squat. Hated the way it felt in her mouth, hated everything about it. “I’m not squatting.” Her haughtiness didn’t make the word any more dignified. “This is my house. You can’t tear it down.”
The nerve of the man, coming here and thinking he had a right to destroy this place. Beneath her anger, panic simmered. This house was the only place she had left to go. Con lived in a studio apartment, Lulu already had three roommates, and Allie lived on her employer’s compound. Her sisters had no space for Pippa, and they’d have only a little sympathy for the situation she was in. Con would have none, in fact.
“Who are you?” Pippa demanded. Only her sisters had the right to kick her out of here, or maybe even Annie. She wasn’t sure about exactly who had a claim to what. But this man, this cowboy, was definitely not a Crivelli. He looked like he’d never had bad luck in his life, much less a family curse on him. Certainly he’d never lost an unskilled job for falling asleep on the line. Had never had his entire life crumble because of one little cigarette.
His mouth tightened. Oh, definitely mean. The shiver that passed through her was strangely warm, not really frightened. “Bear Westfall.”
He said it like she ought to know who he was, but she didn’t. He must be a newcomer to Cabrillo—the Crivellis had been here for more than a century. While Pippa hadn’t grown up in the town, her roots were still here, and she knew who the old families were.
The Westfalls weren’t one of them.
When she didn’t fall down at his feet, Bear Westfall’s eyes narrowed and he went on. “Esme sold this place to us before she died.”
Something in Pippa cracked at that. Like a part of her broke, a part that couldn’t be fixed. This place… wasn’t hers? She couldn’t stay?
There was really nowhere left to go?
The family curse strikes again. She shook her head, not ready to blame this on bad luck. Or to accept what he was saying. She wet her lips. “Esme wouldn’t have done that. She always said she’d leave it to Dad.” Her voice was getting too loud, like it always did when she was upset, but she couldn’t stop it. “Why would she sell it to you?”
“We own the ranch up the road. This property borders ours— Esme sold it to us after she moved into town. We’re going to build a…” He studied her like he didn’t expect her to understand what he was about to say. “A processing-and-shipping center here. We’re expanding, and we need this land.”
He needed it? Not more than she did. “This is Crivelli land,” she said. Still too loud, but not quite shouting. “We’ve owned it since forever. Esme left it to Dad, no one else! It must say so in the will.”
“She died without one.”
Pippa frowned. That wasn’t right. “No, she had a will. She was always saying—” Pippa caught herself. Esme was always saying she’d write this or that relative out of her will. She’d said it to Dad a few times that Pippa could remember. As a kid, it had seemed a joke to Pippa, something adults spoke of but didn’t really mean.
Maybe she’d misunderstood. Esme and Dad had had a falling-out, the reasons for it something Pippa had never understood.
“Nobody ever found a will.” The man—Bear. Lord, what a name—spoke with increasing impatience. “The lawyer tried to contact the next of kin.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m guessing you’re somehow related to the nephew.” His voice dripped contempt. “If you guys wanted the place, you should have spoken up.”
Her throat closed, her breath getting stuck behind the tightness. The way he talked about Dad without even knowing him… “My dad. He’s the nephew.” It was so hard to breathe she feared she might faint. “He… he couldn’t have responded. Because…”
It was like a thousand years of superstition and a thousand tons of grief were sitting right on her. She couldn’t say what had taken her father, couldn’t speak the name of that awful thing, or else Death might stop, turn, and look right at her. And hadn’t the bastard already taken enough from her?
Bear’s expression softened, his mouth taking on a kinder, gentler curve. He cleared his throat. “I see. I’m so, so sorry.”
She realized then that she wouldn’t have to explain, that he already understood. That unexpected sympathy lightened the weight of her grief, giving her a chance to breathe again. “Thanks.”
Their gazes met and held, this time without hostility or judgment. Really, when he wasn’t scowling, he was… She blinked, heat prickling along the backs of her arms. Oh wow. He was something.
Something trying to take away your house.
She squared her shoulders, shook off those softer feelings. “I’m the next of kin,” she explained, putting her finger into her chest to emphasize I’m here now. I’m answering. He’d understood about Dad; he’d understand about this. He clearly wasn’t a complete monster. “So the house is mine.”
Something flicked through his expression, but he suppressed it. “Except this place isn’t safe.” Bear held out a hand, came toward her. “That wall is about to come down. You can’t stay here. There has to be somewhere else.”
The way he came forward, the tilt of his mouth, his hand—it triggered a memory in her. Of all the times she’d tried to sneak up on Tybalt the same way, speaking slow and soft. I won’t hurt you. I’m only going to pet you. Only going to catch you.
She stiffened. She wasn’t going to flee like Tybalt would have—she was nowhere near as good at hiding—but she wasn’t going to let herself be caught. Besides, there was nowhere else for her.
Pippa had lost her job, her house, her parents—even her car was trying to die on her. She’d cried when Mom and Dad had died, but then she’d gotten on with life. She’d had no other choice if she wanted to eat.
When she’d lost her job, she hadn’t even blinked. There had been no point—nothing she’d said would have saved her. When the landlord had kicked her out, she’d gone without a peep. Again, nothing could be done. And the car running out of gas… she’d accepted that as easily as everything else.
But this time… this time she was blinking. She was protesting.
She was fighting.
She’d had enough of losing everything. This was where she was going to stop, stand up to the family curse and life in general. No more.
This cowboy wasn’t going to drive her from this house and destroy it.
“The wall looks fine to me.” If she stuck her chin out any more, it might leave her face. “And we’ll see what my lawyer has to say about all this.”
She had no lawyer, had no idea how to even get one, but it sounded good.
Bear stopped, let his hand fall. “That wall’s been like that for years. It’s going to come down.”
“If it’s been like that for years, it can last a few more weeks. Besides, I’m going to fix this place up.” Suddenly she could see it, this place restored to how it had been when she was young. Perfect and whole again. Safe.
He crossed his arms. “Is that your car abandoned on the road back there?”
Embarrassed heat pinched at her cheeks. “Not abandoned. Parked.” Okay, that was way too loud. Why did her stupid voice have to do that? “It’s my land. I can park where I want.”
“I told you, Esme sold it to us.”
She held out a hand. “Let me see the deed then.”
Pippa wasn’t expecting him to produce it, but she also wasn’t expecting the flash of guilt that crossed his expression. Probably because he realized he was stealing this place from her.
He sighed like she was just so exasperating. Like the ruin of her entire life was merely annoying to him. Well, if he found her annoying now, he was going to hate how hard she was about to fight him.
“This place isn’t safe.” He said it slowly, as if she couldn’t understand. “It needs to come down. Look, there has to be someplace else you can go. Hell, we even have a travel trailer—you could stay there tonight, figure things out.”
A travel trailer. For a night. It was more than anyone else had offered her, but it was still so inadequate. One night wasn’t enough for her to figure things out.
“If you bulldoze this house,” she warned, “you’ll be hit with the family curse.” It was the worst thing she could think of.
He snorted. “Right. You’re gonna hex me.”
For a moment she wished she really could. She wished she could summon whatever magic was in the world and have the family curse rebound on him. Then he might leave her alone and she might finally, finally catch a break in this wretched world.
He went for the bulldozer. She stayed where she was.
“I’m not leaving this house,” she called after him. “And you can’t make me.”
Bear stopped, turned so slowly, so menacingly, she immediately regretted the dare. Instead of showing that, she crossed her arms. This porch was her last stand. She was not going to be moved for anything.
For a moment the only things were the pounding of her heart and the anger in his eyes. He could make me. He could.
He’d put his broad shoulder right into her belly, just below her navel, then sweep her right up. She’d be helpless to stop him, his arm a hard, restraining bar against the back of her knees. All the blood rushing to her head. Something dark fluttered in her chest, imagining it.
“This house isn’t worth it,” he said finally.
“Then don’t fight me for it.”
He climbed into the cab, his thighs flexing as he hoisted himself up. “I’m only gonna come back with the sheriff.”
It took a moment for that to pierce through her anxiety. He was in the tractor, but he wasn’t going to use it.
He was only going to sic the sheriff on her.
Pippa fisted her hands. “And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” As soon as she found one, that was. Did lawyers take credit cards?
“Sure.” Bear was deeply unconvinced, which made her all the more determined to find one. “I never did catch your name.”
“Oh, did you forget to ask me when you were threatening to tear down my house?”
“My house.” He smirked. “I’ll bring the legal papers too. I just want to make sure the sheriff has the warrant filled out correctly.”
The dry way he said it would have made her laugh if her stomach wasn’t plummeting to her knees. Maybe this man did really own the place. But surely Pippa had some kind of claim—this man hadn’t spent his childhood summers here. If they hadn’t contacted Dad, didn’t that make everything invalid? Or illegal or something?
“I’ll be waiting right here for you,” she said with enough false bravado to impress even herself. “Filippa Crivelli. Filippa with an F,” she said helpfully when he continued to stare at her. “Make sure the sheriff gets that right. And my dad, Esme’s nephew, and the person she definitely left this place to, is Antonio Crivelli.” She paused for effect. “Antonio with an A.”
He was grinding his teeth. She could hear it from here. Something about that made her want to laugh in spite of the fact that he was basically trying to ruin what was left of her life.
“I know how to spell Antonio,” he growled.
“Really? Because you couldn’t find him before.” To her horror, her voice caught on the last bit, tears coming on like a storm. She didn’t want to cry in front of this jerk, but the grief hit her too fast to avoid. She spun, went for the safety of the house. “You just send the sheriff!” She yelled to hide the cracks in her voice, for once meaning to be exactly that loud.
And then she hid inside the last—the only—refuge she had left, sad as it was.