Harper stood in her brand-spanking-new-to-her bakery kitchen, beaming from ear to ear. She’d only been here two weeks, but she already had something that had been missing from her life for a long time.
Hope.
Yesterday’s soft opening had gone well, takeout only. Wanting to get all the kinks out, she hadn’t yet placed ads, put up signs, contacted any local restaurants about purchasing her desserts, or let any local wedding planners know she was available for wedding cakes.
She’d get there. She’d ordered four tables and cute mismatched chairs for seating as well. She couldn’t wait to see people enjoying and lingering over her goods. Just the thought made her smile.
As did the memory of her first customer that morning. A little girl who’d walked straight up to the counter—a good foot taller than her. She’d opened her hand, revealing a pretty blue rock sitting in her palm. “Can I buy a chocolate chip cookie with this?” she’d asked.
Harper was now one blue rock richer.
The girl’s older brother had come running in to get her and apologize, but Harper had no regrets.
Since it was officially the quiet hours—past lunch, nearly closing time—she had no customers at the moment. So she was baking to her heart’s content for tomorrow while Ivy had Ham out on a long walk. She was baking more of her chocolate and mint chip cookies, smiling at Bodie, who was sitting on her counter eating one. He’d showed up a few minutes earlier, offering to be her quality taster. But since he’d also tried to quality taste her lips, she wasn’t taking him all that seriously.
He sucked some chocolate off his thumb, the sound making her feel a little wobbly on the inside. “You’ve never said why you stopped coming to Tahoe when you were twelve.”
She managed to lift her gaze from his mouth to his eyes. “And?”
He smiled, like he enjoyed her sass. Which was a good thing, since it was a part of her to her very soul. “And you’ve never said why you aren’t going back to the ATF,” she said.
He smiled again. “And?”
With a snort, she went back to dropping balls of dough onto a cookie sheet. Not easy because he was making some seriously sexy yummy “mmm” noises, and she wouldn’t mind getting him to make those noises for another reason entirely.
Looking amused at them both, he crooked a finger at her. “Come here.”
“If I come over there, we both know I’ll never finish these.”
His laugh was low and rough and scraped at all her good parts. And damn, her feet seceded from her brain and took her right to him. She wasn’t sure who kissed who, but she was sure that he tasted amazing, and suddenly she was making her own “mmm” noises.
When they pulled back for air, he ran a hand up her arm, settling his palm at the nape of her neck, his thumb slowly grazing her while holding her gaze. “My mom thinks I’m retired. My brothers think I’m on leave. Neither is the truth.”
“Okay,” she said. “What is the truth?”
He hesitated. “I’ve not told anyone.”
Startled by the serious intensity in his eyes and the fact that he was telling her what he hadn’t shared with his family, she nodded. “Understood.”
“The ATF dumped me.”
“What?” She straightened with righteous indignity on his behalf. “Why?”
He looked away and shrugged a broad shoulder. “I’m damaged goods, and no longer worth a damn.”
She sucked in a breath, emotions colliding. Sorrow for him, but mostly fury at the people who’d made him feel like the years he’d spent keeping the world safe meant nothing. Cupping his face, she brought it back to hers. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”
He said nothing.
“It couldn’t,” she said softly.
He touched his forehead to hers.
She wrapped her arms around him, and to her surprise, he did the same. “What does everyone else think happened?”
He drew a deep breath. “My brothers think I took unpaid leave because I needed some time. My mom thinks I retired. I haven’t been able to tell them.”
She knew he didn’t want her sympathy, so she tried to bury it. “I stopped coming here when I was twelve because my mom died. After that, my dad had no interest in Tahoe. I did, but that didn’t matter.”
They looked at each other for a long, charged beat. Bodie’s hands came up to her face, gently tipping it to his.
She put her hands to his chest, leaned in, and—
The back door opened, and in stepped Abuela. “I’m ready to start tomorrow,” she announced.
Harper looked at her in surprise. “Start what?”
“Work. Six a.m. is no good for me. I’ll give you seven to ten a.m.”
Harper had been looking all week for a part-time employee willing to work six to eleven just to help her get the baking all done. She’d been thinking of a teen looking for a summer job—anyone other than the woman she was pretty much petrified of. “You run the bookstore.”
“No, Shay runs the bookstore for me. I want to bake.”
“Okay, but . . .” Harper attempted to tread lightly. “You should know the pay isn’t that great, and we’ll be using only recipes I’ve approved, not to mention I’d be the boss. You’d have to at least pretend to respect me and follow my directions.”
“We can share the position,” Abuela said confidently.
Behind her, Bodie choked out what sounded like a laugh, but when Harper craned her neck his way, he coughed, eyes innocent. “’Scuse me.”
She narrowed her eyes at him before turning back to Abuela. “We’re not sharing my position. I’m the boss, no exceptions.”
Abuela considered this. “Well, maybe you have to go to the bathroom. Or for a supply run. Or to kiss a Campbell boy. I could be, what do you call it, interim boss.”
Bodie choked again, this time for real.
“Well?” Abuela said to Harper.
“No on any sort of boss, interim or otherwise,” she said firmly, since gentleness wasn’t cutting it. “But if you can agree to those terms, you’re hired.”
Abuela beamed. “Great. I’ll start tomorrow.”
“How about now?” Harper asked.
Abuela smiled. “Tomorrow is better for me.” And then she was gone.
Harper let out a breath. “Why do I feel like I’ve just been bamboozled?”
“Because you have been.” Bodie reached for another cookie.
She smacked his hand away just as Ivy came into the kitchen. “Question,” she said, stumbling a bit at the sight of Bodie in the kitchen.
Harper knew Ivy was uncomfortable with men, but she had hoped being around the Campbell brothers, who were nothing but easygoing and gentle with her, would help. “I’m all ears,” Harper said.
Ivy tore her gaze off Bodie. “Um, I just got back and Ham’s leashed out front, enjoying a sunspot, but a guy came in when I did. He’s looking for a special cake for his mom. He doesn’t care what flavor or what it looks like, he just wants it to read ‘fuck cancer’—his words,” she said quickly. “And he’s willing to pay extra if you’ll use the, um, f-word on his cake. Apparently, the last bakery refused him, and he needs the cake today.”
Harper set down her spoon. “Don’t take his money.”
Looking disappointed, Ivy nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
“Just give him his choice of the three cakes in the display and I’ll add the wording—no charge. Tell him to use his cake money to get flowers to go with.”
Ivy beamed at her. “’K!”
Five minutes later, the guy left happy with his personalized cake. Ivy locked up the front for her and went over to the bookstore.
Which left Harper alone with Bodie.
He slid off the counter and came to her, hands going to her hips, his gaze locked on hers. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
Uncomfortable with the praise, she pushed him away with a laugh. “Shoo. You’re distracting me.”
His back was against the wall now, but he snagged her by the waist and pulled her in. “No, this would be me distracting you.” He covered her mouth with his, making a little indistinct sound as he angled to get the best fit, deepening the kiss until they were both goners. “Later,” he finally murmured against her lips.
“You sure?” She flicked her eyes south to the hardest part of him pressed against her.
“Yeah.” He gave her one last kiss below her ear. “I don’t feel real stable backed up to the wall.”
“You seem stable. Or should I say solid—as a rock.”
He laughed, looking inordinately pleased at the description. Men . . .
Harper and Ivy had full days for the rest of the week, and shockingly, Abuela fit right in with them. And though foot traffic had been light, they’d had more than a few repeat customers. Mostly Shay, but hey, a customer was a customer, and Harper felt giddy and hopeful as she cleaned her kitchen at the end of each long day.
Ivy was upstairs, probably on her phone, which seemed to be her favorite hobby. And now that Harper felt somewhat settled, her angst had quieted down and she realized . . . she herself didn’t have a favorite hobby.
Or any hobby.
She tried to remember what she used to do with her time before she was with Daniel. She’d briefly taken up running in college, but she’d hated it. She did love to read and was also always up for a good TV marathon, but suddenly being alone didn’t appeal.
She wanted to do something grown-up, like . . . kiss Bodie again.
No. That was the wrong body part doing her thinking for her. But damn, the brief flashes of how his hands—and mouth—had made her feel were her undoing.
She drew a deep breath. What she wanted was to go for a drink instead of pouring a glass of wine into a water tumbler because her wineglasses had remained behind with Daniel.
So to that end, she was going to do something really stupid. She was going to Olde Tahoe Tap for that drink. And okay, maybe also for the possibility of other adult things, because the truth was, she wanted to celebrate with someone. Someone of age. Someone tall and leanly built and sexy, who kissed like heaven and tasted like her chocolate and mint chip cookies.
She headed upstairs to change, first peeking in on Ivy, who was, sure enough, on the futon with her phone, ignoring the rest of the world as only a teenager could.
Harper showered, then looked through her closet for something suitable to wear. Something that maybe said this was just a casual drink, nothing more. Something that might also say she was pretty and open to new things.
Tall order for the woman who had only two suitcases of clothes, most of them work clothes. She pulled on a sundress, then remembered that even though it was August now, the nights could still be quite chilly. She tore off the dress and changed into washed-out jeans and a strappy tank top with a sweater that had a chocolate stain on it.
Dammit.
She kept going through the closet until she’d rejected her entire wardrobe and everything she owned was strewn across the bed and fully covering a snoring Ham. Like, seriously snoring. She could hardly hear herself think. She was in leggings and a cami tank, with an oversize sweater that hung nearly to her knees. She added flats, put her hair up into a ponytail, added a swipe of mascara and lip gloss, the end. She grabbed a leftover cookie from the tin on her dresser.
At the sound of the tin opening, Ham’s head popped up, ears perked. He could hear food from ten miles away.
“It’s my dinner,” she said.
He licked his chops.
“Sorry, buddy, but dogs can’t have chocolate.”
He didn’t even blink. Probably because he didn’t recognize himself as a dog. He thought he was a person.
Ivy appeared in the doorway. “Did I hear chocolate?”
Harper laughed and held out the tin for her to grab a few cookies.
“You going back downstairs to bake some more?” Ivy asked.
“No, I’m going for a drink.”
Ivy’s brows raised. “Like a get-laid drink?”
Harper gasped. “No!” At least not that she wanted to admit to a sixteen-year-old.
Ivy rolled her eyes and started shifting through the piles of clothes strewn everywhere, exposing the rest of Ham. “Hambone,” the teen murmured affectionally, and gave him a kiss on the snout. “You should’ve told her to go with her skinny jeans and these boots.” She tossed the slightly too-tight jeans and the only pair of sexy boots Harper owned her way. Then stood there waiting while Harper replaced her leggings with the jeans and boots.
“You’re still going to wear that sweater?” Ivy asked.
Harper slid her a glance.
“I’ll rephrase,” Ivy said. “You’re not wearing that sweater.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing, if you want to never date again. Lose it.”
“But I’m not wearing a bra.”
“You don’t need one.”
Harper pulled off the sweater.
“Yes.” Ivy walked around Harper and then nodded her approval. “You look great.”
“I wasn’t going for great. I was going for a drink.”
“Uh-huh,” Ivy said with a smirk. “Is that why you’re wearing mascara when you hate mascara?”
“Hey, the mascara is armor, okay?” Harper eyed herself in the mirror and had to admit, she looked pretty okay. “It’s been a long time since I’ve . . . had a drink.”
“Old people are so weird about sex.”
“I’m not old! And go get into trouble on the internet, would you?”
“I’d be tempted by that, but the internet up here in the boondocks is complete shit.”
“We need a swear jar.” Harper sighed. “Why do I get the feeling you’re sixteen going on sixty?”
“Because I am,” Ivy said. “I was born old as dirt.”
Harper laughed. “I’m glad you have new friends your age. Do you know their story? Where are their parents?”
“Out of the picture. Their parents died.” Ivy shrugged. “I get the feeling that foster care didn’t work out for them because they didn’t like being separated. So they’re on their own.”
Harper nodded, hating that for them. She’d met the twins several times now, mostly when she fed them whenever they came to pick up Ivy to go to the lake. And Dakota. Harper loved that Ham had a new friend too. Or, given how he looked at Dakota, maybe she should say girlfriend. “You enjoy their company.”
Ivy shrugged. “Better than being alone.”
Harper hugged her. “You’re never alone.”
That got a rare smile out of the girl. “Thanks.” She studied Harper in her outfit. “You know, you’re really pretty.”
Harper shrugged that off. “It’s the mascara.”
“No, it’s not. Except . . .” Ivy moved close and pulled out Harper’s ponytail, then fluffed her hair. “Okay, now you’re ready to impress.”
“I’m not trying to impress anyone.”
“Liar. Go have a good time. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Harper stopped. Pointed at her. “That better be a lot.”
“Hey, this isn’t about me. And don’t worry—if you don’t come home, I can feed Hambone breakfast.”
“Oh my God! I’m coming right back!”
Ivy grinned. “You’re cute when you get all flustered and embarrassed. Maybe we should have the birds and the bees talk.”
Harper went hands-on-hips. “You about done?”
“I’m not sure,” Ivy said on a laugh. “This is fun. Look, just have a good time, okay? Oh, and whoever buys you a drink—make him work for it, because then he knows you respect yourself.”
Harper stopped and felt herself smile stupidly. “Aw, you have been listening!”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but I have been reading your latest Cosmo.”
Harper hugged her, touched by this teen who’d wormed her way into her heart in a blink of an eye. “Don’t ruin this for me. I feel like a proud mama.”
Ivy pretended to be choking on the hug and Harper gave up, pulling back on a laugh. She knew Ivy wasn’t someone accustomed to physical affection, but hell, neither was she. They were two lost souls who’d somehow found each other. “Lock up behind me. And don’t talk to strangers.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Harper eyed her. “Your use of sarcasm to cover your discomfort with emotion has been noted.”
“The only reason you recognize that is because we’re two peas in a pod. Now go,” Ivy said.
Outside, Harper drew a deep breath and walked the cobblestone sidewalk, taking in the quaint buildings lit by so many twinkle lights it felt like Christmas in August.
Except tonight it was raining, not snowing. She stuck close to the buildings’ overhangs, and two minutes later, she stood at the front of the bar, trying to gather her courage. Turning, she looked into the dark, wet night sky, wondering why she was being such a chicken. You’re better than this. You’re a strong, independent woman—
At a rustle behind her, she froze for a beat, because oh God, it was probably a bear. Quickly, she whirled, hands up in a defensive pose, making herself bigger than she was, only to freeze again. Because not a bear, just someone every bit as grumpy as one.
Shay.