Loud, clanking sounds wake me from my deepest sleep in weeks. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. Frilly curtains. Purple flowered sheets. I yawn with a grin. Aunt Grace’s home.
I check my cell and roll out of bed. The little clock says 9:00 a.m. Which makes this my personal record for the latest I’ve ever slept in.
In a plain grey sweatshirt and some comfy pants Brooke left behind, I stretch and make my way to the kitchen. “Morning, sleepyhead,” Grace says, handing me a sinful-smelling muffin.
I hold it to my face, enjoying a deep whiff. The aroma is heaven. “Mmm. Banana.”
“Banana chocolate chip. Though I also have plain banana as well as banana with chopped up candied pecans.”
“Not gonna lie. I will probably have one of each. Maybe two.” I take a seat, and Aunt Grace brings a large platter of assorted banana muffins, centering the yummy goodness between us. My coffee is already on the table, though hers is noticeably missing.
“Where’s yours?” I ask. Her shrug confuses me. If she’s low on coffee, too, I’m busting out my emergency fund and hauling her ass to the store.
“I thought I'd try a day without it. Enjoy the whole caffeine-free lifestyle.”
Her words are half-hearted at best. In solidarity, I do the unthinkable. “Oh, thank goodness,” I say, pouring my cup of coffee straight down into the sink. “I'm not much of a coffee drinker,” I lie. “I was drinking it to be polite.” I stick my head in one cupboard, then another. “Didn’t you used to keep lemon-ginger tea? It’s amazing with fresh banana muffins.”
Aunt Grace puts a kettle of hot water to heat on the stove. Her hip bumps mine. “I know you really wanted that coffee,” Aunt Grace says.
“And I know that when I was nine years old, you really wanted that apple fritter in the big box of donuts at Christmas. But you gave it to me anyway.”
She wraps an arm around me, squeezing me so hard I squeak. We giggle into a moment I wish would last days. Then, the kettle whistles, and I drop a teabag into each mug as she pours. “As I recall,” she says while dunking her tea bag up and down, “you did give me a colossal bite.”
I rest my head on her shoulder. “And you gave me a childhood.”
After breakfast, I tidy up and make sure Aunt Grace has everything she needs. Her fridge and pantry are adequately full.
“Swear you’ll call me if you need anything and that you’ll take your medicine as prescribed.”
“I swear.” She crosses her heart to take a whole pill every single day. “I’ll be fine. You have a new job and a family that needs you,” she says, popping a finger to my nose.
Hunter is waiting for me bright and early with coffee in his hand as he holds open my door. Mortified, I make my way to the passenger side. “Tell me you didn’t sleep in your car because of me.”
His boyish shrug levels me with guilt.
We make our way back to the estate, and I can’t stop imagining this mammoth of a man squished inside the sportscar like a sardine. “Aunt Grace had another room. I would’ve invited you in.”
“It’s no big deal.” He notices me staring down at the Styrofoam cup. “Hey.” I drag my eyes to his. “How about you make it up to me?”
I scoot an inch further from him. “How?”
He chuckles. “Not like that.”
His thumb taps the steering wheel, and I slowly sip the coffee, waiting out whatever it is he’s about to say. Could Hunter be nervous?
Determined, he clears his throat. “Your friend, Brooke. I’d like to meet her. The sooner, the better.”
I turn to him, deadly serious. “If you hurt her, I will have you killed.”
He shakes his head. “Wow, Leo’s really rubbing off on you.” My glare turns menacing. “You have nothing to worry about. I noticed her Facebook profile.”
I put two and two together and sock his arm. “You checked her out.”
“It’s sort of my job.” I sock him again, lightly to avoid hurting my hand. It’s enough to shake loose his intentions. “Fine. I wanted to find out a little more about her.” This isn’t news. Brooke Everly is head-to-toe stunning. Smart. Sassy. The kind of girl men fall all over. I’ve seen it a million times, and not once have I been jealous. I was too busy picking up the pieces when they broke her heart.
I pull up her profile and laugh into my hand. The caption reads, “Me and Hunter.” She and Hunter-the-Shepherd are filtered in tiaras and bright red lipstick .
“She has a Belgian Malinos shepherd named Hunter. So, she already likes the name.” His smile is endearing before curling down in sadness. “Do you know where she got him?”
I think for a moment. “He was a K-9 rescue. Her family is all cops and military, and they love dogs.” I leave out the part about Brooke needing an assistance dog for her epilepsy. “You must like them, too, if you know the breed.”
He nods, and we sit in silence as he gets lost in his thoughts. After a while, he speaks. “In one of my last tours, I was assigned with a dog—certain breeds are ideal for working with the military because of the strength, versatility, and ease of training. Resilience.” He trails off. “My dog, Pax, suffered a bullet to the hind leg. I took two in the chest.” He sucks in a breath. “But I was patched up and sent back out.”
I swallow hard as instinct takes over. I squeeze his hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
He casts me a sideways glance. “What loss?”
“Your…dog?”
“Pax didn’t die.” He points to his chest. “My dog was patched up and retired. My dog was a Belgian Malinos shepherd whose paperwork had my name on it as well as his. Pax. New owner: Hunter Walsh. My dog was supposed to be adopted by me. My mom and dad were ready to take him until I returned.” He takes a breath. “But there was a mix up with the paperwork. His name read Pax Hunter Walsh and was adopted by a young woman in North Carolina.”
My chest constricts. “You can’t take Hunter from Brooke.”
“Ivy—”
“You don’t understand. Brooke needs Hunter.” I’m about to tell him why when he interrupts me.
“Ivy, stop. If I wanted to take Pax, I would’ve done it years ago.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “By the time I tracked down Pax, the young woman who adopted him had already started his training. In seizure response.”
He knows. I stare in disbelief.
Hunter taps the face of my phone, and a thoughtful smile emerges. “Like I said. I’d like to meet your friend.”
For the remainder of the drive, Hunter shares stories of life with Pax. A hero and his hero dog. He doesn’t want to take Pax from Brooke. He just wants to meet her.
“I don’t want her to know who I am,” he adds.
“Why not?”
“From everything I’ve learned about Brooke, she’s the kind of person that would want Pax back with me.”
He’s right. Brooke would never keep him if she had even an inkling of what they’d been through together. A Hallmark kind of warmth swirls around me. Hunter really is a great guy.
And I’d love to dive head-first into a cupid outfit and get these two matched already. Love should be in the stars for someone…
“Well,” I start, “if I’m keeping secrets for you, I might need you to keep some secrets for me.”
He rolls his eyes with disapproval. “You want me to keep things from my boss?”
“Leo doesn’t have to know everything. Our conversation, for example. Or anything that has to do with Aunt Grace. She deserves her privacy.”
He thinks through my proposal and nods. “Deal.”
When I arrived back at the estate, Leo pulls in at the same time. “Good morning,” he says all growly and hot. Why does he have to be so good-looking this early in the morning?
Who cares if he's in a suit with his mussed-up hair looking freshly fucked? Or that I'm in a sweatshirt and yoga pants and probably look like I just slept on a park bench.
He eyes me, then Hunter. “Same outfit as yesterday?” he observes under his breath.
“Yes, sir.” They exchange several glances before Hunter excuses himself and makes himself scarce, leaving me with Leo and his cedar-scented cologne.
“Where were you?” he asks with enough ownership it strikes a nerve.
“Where was I?” I say, sarcasm pricking my words.
His patience takes a nosedive. “Answer the question.” Not answering Leo is juvenile. But I want all of Leo. His anger. His emotions. His rage. His heat. And if getting under his skin is the way to get it, game on.
My arms form a tight knot in front of my chest as my heels dig in. “That’s none of your business.”
His scowl emerges.
I welcome it and step into his space. “What’s the matter, Leo? Jealous?”
“I’m not jealous. But I am concerned. You have a job to do. Your job includes being at this property twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
“No, my job may require me to be on-site as much as twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. My absence was approved by Hunter since you were busy. Hmm, gone all night? Where were you, Leo?”
He huffs under his breath.
I begin to make my way into the house. “If there is anything you needed to know about me, you could always ask. And stop badgering my aunt.”
“Badgering?” He catches up to me, his anger melting into a smirk. “Ah. You were with Grace. I’m pretty good at reading people, Ivy, and the last thing your dear Aunt Grace would ever say was that I was badgering her. If anything, she was badgering me. Taunting me with her North Carolina charm and seducing me with baked goods.”
“She forced you to eat your weight in pie?”
“Hogtied me to a chair is more like it. Shoved every last spoonful in my mouth,” Leo says, exaggerating. “I'm seriously traumatized. I had to walk around the rest of the day with the top button of my pants undone.” He leans in, whispering, “She invited me back for banana muffins. I might make my way over there now and”—he air quotes—“‘badger her’ some more.”
At this point, I'm fuming. But I’m also trying really hard not to smile. I bite the inside of my lip. “Too late,” I snap in frustration. “I ate them all this morning.”
We glare at each other, frozen in a moment of unspoken words and heat. And regret. And then, Leo Badass Zamparelli does something I never thought he’d do.
He apologizes. “I’m sorry. Background checks are part of my job. I can’t give you a pass because—” He cuts himself off.
“Because what, Leo?”
He lets the sentimental moment between us pass. “I can’t give you a pass because you have an in with the pie baker from heaven.” He unbuttons his blazer and exposes his shirt. “Yesterday, I was all kinds of glorious Buddha belly. You missed out on some serious sexiness.” He waves a graceful hand along his abs, which, from here, still look rock hard. He’s witty and charming and impossible to stay mad at.
We make our way to the house. “Leo, I know you have to do a background check. But if there’s something you need to know, just ask.”
“And if you have something to tell me, just say it.” Leo steps closer. The air crackles between us for a long beat, and I want to tell him. It would be so easy to say the words. I think I’m a D’Angelo.
Face to face, he crushes me with a whisper. “Goddamnit, Ivy, I’m trying to protect you.”
I study his eyes before shutting mine. That’s just it. He can’t protect me. Anything I say, won’t stay between us. It can’t. He's made it very clear that between me and the D'Angelos, he’ll side with them. Every time.
“You can’t have it both ways, Leo. You handed me off to Hunter. You told me in no uncertain terms that when I need you most, you won’t be there. You don’t get to break my heart, then ask me to bear my soul. It doesn’t work that way. You wanted Hunter between us. You’ve got it.”