Ivy Roberts forced her chin up, even though her heart was in her throat as a flashlight was shoved in her face, blinding her. “Okay, so you got me,” she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster. She’d dealt with enough hostile adults to know she had to stay cool and tough, not that it eased her fear. And she hated how her body had curled in on itself, expecting the worst.
The flashlight shifted away slightly, letting her see. “I’m sorry,” her attacker said. “I didn’t know you were a kid.”
“I’m not a kid.” She hadn’t been a kid in a long time. “I’m eighteen.” She no longer stumbled over the lie. She puffed herself up, trying to look bigger, because no way was she sharing her crash spot. Or the forty dollars left of the two hundred she’d, um, borrowed from her stepsister. “And you should get out of here before I call the cops.”
The woman shifted her weight, and something fell from her sweater.
“Popcorn?” Ivy asked.
“Dammit,” the woman muttered. “This is embarrassing.”
If the situation hadn’t been so tense, Ivy might’ve laughed, but the urge faded fast at the woman’s next words.
“And I’ll call the police for you. Since this is my place.”
No. Ivy didn’t buy that for a single second. She knew that she looked like a street kid, and that was exactly what she was now anyway. But this woman, whom she’d seen at the bar earlier, seemed only a step up from a street kid herself, with her long curly hair that looked like it was a bitch to tame so she hadn’t even bothered, oversize sweatshirt falling to her thighs, and fake Ugg boots. “If this is your place,” Ivy said, “why are all the lights off?”
“Temporary problem. Electricity’s coming back on tomorrow. I’ve leased this building, which makes you the intruder.”
Was she for real? “You leased this dump? You know there’s, like, mountains of dust in here, right?”
“Yeah. Nothing a little work can’t fix.”
Oh great. A positive-attitude sort. Ivy hated positive-attitude people. They were always so . . . positive. And now she had to find another place to crash, which was making her anxious. “Okay, then. I’m outta here.”
“Wait.” Harper blocked the door. “Where will you go? Can I call someone for you?”
“None of your business, and no thank you.”
“Look, you clearly have nowhere else to go. I can’t just let a kid go off and fend for herself.”
“Told you. I’m eighteen.”
“Uh-huh.”
Keep your cool or she’ll call Child Services. “Fine,” Ivy said. “I lied. I’m sixteen, but I’m emancipated and on my own.”
The woman backed up a step so they could more easily see each other. “But where are you going to sleep tonight?”
Ivy looked her right in the eyes and lied again. It really was her one and only true skill, and it was well-honed. “Home.”
She shook her head. “If you were going home, you wouldn’t be breaking into my shop with what looks like everything you own in your backpack.”
“It’s laundry day.”
“Great,” the woman said. “Because I’ve got a washer and dryer. I mean, once the utilities come on tomorrow.”
And that was where Ivy screwed up. “I’d settle for a blanket.”
“Great, because I happen to have a little blanket problem. I keep buying them. I’ve got enough for both of us.”
This was not the reaction Ivy had expected from a grown-up.
Nor was what the woman said next. “Look, can we be real for a minute? It’s my first night here, and I’m kinda freaked out. You could stay if you want. You’d actually be doing me a favor.”
Tempting, especially when compared to sleeping outside or at the bus station, which was a few miles’ walk that she didn’t want to make alone this late at night.
Plus, this shopping center, which held four buildings, linked together by a cobblestone sidewalk, looked like something right out of a European Alps village. Huh. Look at that, she had retained some high school history after all. “Maybe you’re an ax murderer.”
She laughed. “My name’s Harper Shaw. And I’m not fond of axes. Or murder. I can’t even watch those true crime shows without having nightmares.”
A smile escaped Ivy before she could bite it back. An adult admitting a weakness . . . “It’s almost colder in here than outside.”
“Like I said, I’ve got extra blankets. Ham and I don’t mind sharing.”
Ivy eyed the huge dog leaning against Harper’s legs. Like, massive. She’d never had a dog growing up, but this one, monster size or not, had sweet brown eyes that said he wasn’t a killer, unless licking to death counted. “A real attack dog, huh?”
Harper bent down and hugged him. “Hambone here is more of a lover than a fighter.” She lifted her head and met Ivy’s gaze. “Please stay rather than finding another spot to sleep. You’ll be safe here at least.”
Ivy didn’t want to admit just how tempted she was. “What do I have to do for it?”
Harper looked shocked, then offended. “Nothing.” She looked around. “Tomorrow I’m turning this place into the best bakery on the lake. Once I do that, there’ll be all sorts of amazing things to eat here. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted my buttery croissants.”
Ivy’s mouth was watering, but she snorted. “You think you’re going to do all that tomorrow?”
Harper ran a finger over the older wainscotting on the wall and came away with a lot of dust. “It’ll be a work in progress, for sure. With some elbow grease and new paint, a week. Two tops.”
Ivy snorted. “Good luck.” She started toward the door, tensing for the cold night ahead of her.
“You’re turning down a lovely stay on a hard bench seat in a dusty, cold, empty building? How can you pass up a deal like that?”
Ivy turned. She didn’t care about sleeping in the booth or on the floor. She cared about what it would cost her. “Still waiting for the catch.”
“No catch. Unless you want work cleaning. And if you stay long enough, I’ll need a bakery employee. I’ll pay you, of course.”
“Without even asking why I broke in here or calling the cops on me?”
Harper held Ivy’s gaze. “You didn’t break anything or steal, so I don’t see any reason. Unless you’ve done something you want to tell me about.”
“No,” Ivy said, because no way in hell did she want this lady digging into her past. She’d done so many things wrong, she wouldn’t even know where to begin. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to open up to Oprah here, who’d offered her a free place to stay. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay. Tonight only.”
“Great.” Harper smiled. “Should we call your parents and tell them where you are?”
Ivy was surprised she could still feel disappointment. She was at the door when Harper spoke again.
“Hey, just because someone asks you a question doesn’t mean you’re obligated to answer.”
Ivy slowly turned back. “So if I don’t answer, you’re cool with that?”
“Yes.”
Ivy thought about that, and also why she wanted to trust this lady she didn’t know a single thing about. “When you open, would I have to wear one of those stupid hats, like the employees at drive-thru places wear?”
Harper smiled. “How about we just wear whatever we’ve got that’s clean? Clean is the only requirement.”
Ivy thought about what she had in her backpack. Clean might be a problem.
“Don’t worry about it now,” Harper said. “I’m not opening for at least a few weeks.”
And Ivy planned to be long gone by then. She’d be off starting her new life, far from everyone who’d never loved her. Maybe Santa Barbara. It seemed like it might be warm there, and she’d always wanted to live at the beach. “I’ll think about it.”
“Want to think about it while we sleep?”
Ivy knew she was going to cave, because after days of sleeping with one eye open, she knew this was a good choice. “Okay.”
Not five minutes later, Harper and Ham were on one of the benches of the booth, with Ivy settling in on the other, wrapped in blankets that smelled fresh and clean. Harper had set up her phone like a little lantern, and they’d locked themselves in. They shared burgers and a bunch of fries between the three of them—Ham loved fries—and other than it being the same meal she’d eaten earlier, from the same place, nothing had ever tasted so good.
“So why are you sleeping in a booth instead of a bed?” Ivy asked, curious in spite of herself.
Harper smiled. “You tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine.”
“Forget it.”
Harper sighed. “Fine. My stuff doesn’t arrive until next week. I’ve got the apartment upstairs too and would sleep on the floor in my new bedroom, but there’s a very protective mama raccoon and her babies in my bathroom.”
Ivy snorted. “How tough are you if you’re letting the raccoons run all over you?”
“Hey, it’s a mama and her babies. I can’t just kick her out.”
Ivy was stymied by this. That Harper would worry about anything other than her own survival didn’t compute. Then she sneezed, and Harper got up. “What are you doing?” Ivy asked.
Harper was on her knees in front of her duffel bag with her flashlight, pulling out two pairs of fuzzy socks. She tossed one to Ivy.
They were neon yellow with pink polka dots. Ivy found a smile. “What, are you three?”
“They were on sale. Put them on.”
Ivy had on one and was wrestling with the other when a thick sweatshirt hit her in the face. “Hey,” she said, pulling the sweatshirt away, only to be hit with a soft knit cap. “What the—”
“We’re cold. Put it all on.”
Ivy held out the sweatshirt, which read bakers do it batter, and snorted. “Nice.”
“Crap. Nope. Give that one back.” Harper yanked it out of Ivy’s hands and then tossed her another.
This one read: a cupcake is just a muffin who believed in itself. “You want me to wear the sappy one?” Ivy asked, amused in spite of herself.
“I want you warm,” Harper said, and then waited until Ivy got it on before dressing herself.
Wearing socks, a tank, a T-shirt, and a sweatshirt—hers—and now also Harper’s sweatshirt, hat, and fuzzy socks on top of it all, she had to laugh. “I feel like the abominable snowman.”
“But a warm one, right?”
“I guess.” Ivy watched as Harper slid back into her sleeping bag. The woman had taken care of Ivy before taking care of herself. In fact, Ivy was pretty certain Harper had given her the thickest of the extra clothes.
Why would she do that for a perfect stranger?
“You okay?” Harper asked.
No. No, she wasn’t. But she had no idea how to ask about her greatest fears. Like, where did she belong? Her mom was currently on a monthlong honeymoon, which included a cruise from New York to London and back with her fourth husband, completely unreachable. When her mom had remarried again and Ivy had found out she had an older stepsister named Kylie, she’d really thought she’d have an ally, even a real older sister. And in fact, that was where Ivy had been told to stay during her mom’s trip. But she’d quickly realized Kylie had her own family and didn’t want to take care of anyone else.
Ivy’s mom probably still thought Ivy was at Kylie’s house. But between Kylie’s own three kids, there hadn’t really been room for her. Hell, when she’d said she was going to stay with a friend, Kylie had been all “Cool, just be sure to tell your mom when she calls to check in.”
That had been a week and a train and two buses ago. Her mom hadn’t checked in once.
“Ivy?”
She drew a deep breath, her courage bolstered by the dark. “Do you ever feel like you were put in a world that wasn’t meant for you?”
When Harper didn’t immediately say anything, Ivy rushed out a quick “Never mind.” She rolled over, because she knew Harper was going to spout something stupidly adult. Like, Give it time, or Things will get better. Or her least favorite, You just need to stop being so dramatic.
To her surprise, Harper sighed and said quietly, “More times than I can count. But tonight . . . tonight I feel like we’re both right where we’re supposed to be.”
Ivy didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Her throat felt too tight. She closed her eyes in order to not let the tears fall, but they fell anyway there in the dark. Refusing to make a sound, she sucked it all in, giving herself a headache to match her heartache.
Ham jumped down from his side of the booth with a grunt, then padded over to Ivy, shocking her when he climbed up to lie with her, squishing her under a gazillion pounds of soft, furry dog she wouldn’t have pushed away for anything.
“He thinks everyone’s his best friend,” Harper said. “You can just give him a nudge, he’ll get down.”
Ivy looked into Ham’s warm eyes. He delicately licked her on the chin, low on saliva, heavy on love, and her heart squeezed.
“Is he too heavy?” Harper asked.
“No.” Ivy wrapped her arms around him, and he dropped his big head on her chest, letting out a heavy dog sigh of relaxation. “He’s perfect,” she whispered.
Harper woke from a dead sleep to a noise she couldn’t place. Heart pounding in her throat, she took stock. Dawn’s early light was filtering in from the two big picture windows in the storefront. She sat up, head cocked. Whatever it was, it wasn’t coming from inside, unless she counted Ham’s snoring. She glanced over and found Ham and Ivy wrapped around each other, still fast asleep on the opposite bench.
Ivy was right—a watchdog Ham was not.
Slipping out of her sleeping bag was a real loss.
Ham lifted his head.
“Stay,” she whispered. “I swear I’m not doing anything important and I’ll be right back. One of us should get to be cozy.” With her exhales turning into little clouds in front of her face, she moved to the window. The morning sky was a stunning rainbow of colors as dawn gave way to a new day, the storm long gone.
Then her gaze locked on her car. “What the—” Her driver’s-side door was open, with a big brown hairy bear butt sticking out. It wasn’t Winnie the Pooh. In fact, he was nearly as big as her car, and she stood there frozen in place, stunned, because if she wasn’t mistaken, he was eating the last of her popcorn, the bastard.
And possibly her steering wheel.
A man appeared in her peripheral. Bodie. He was yelling something she couldn’t catch, waving his arms over his head, and . . .
The bear lumbered backward out of her car and slowly turned to face Bodie.
Was the man nuts? They were face-to-face, separated by maybe ten feet, and he was about to get eaten right before her eyes!
But Bodie stood his ground, each move he made calm and deliberate, looking every bit as big and bad and menacing as the bear.
Then suddenly the bear turned and ambled off into the woods.
Harper shoved her feet into her sneakers and yanked on her jacket before taking another peek out the window. Now it was Bodie in her car . . . cleaning up? She had no idea why he’d be doing that. In her experience, no one just did nice things—not her dad, her ex, or the friends who had vanished along with her ex . . .
She yanked open the door but wasn’t stupid enough to step out. “What are you doing?”
Bodie straightened and looked at her. “Saving your car. Did you sleep here last night?”
She ignored the question. “You yelled at that bear like he was a wayward teenager,” she said, marveling.
“Let me rephrase,” he said. “Did you sleep here last night?”
She cupped a hand around her ear. “What?”
“Wow.” He shook his head, maybe at her bravery, probably at her stupidity. “This is the Sierras,” he said. “We’ve got bears. Smart bears who help themselves to tourists’ vehicles when they’re dumb enough to leave food in them. You practically issued an evite.”
She opened her mouth to get defensive but knew he was right. “Thanks for saving my car, but you should go before he comes back to eat you.”
He flashed an unexpected smile. “Worried about me?”
“Worried you’ll get killed and Zeke the landlord will blame me.”
His smile remained. “Yeah. You’re worried about me. Oh, and Zeke’s one of my brothers. We own these four buildings.”
“Oh my God,” she said. “You’re my landlord?”
“Well, one of them anyway.” He turned to go. “Also, the bears here are American black bears. For the most part, they avoid dealing with people. They’re mild and meek.”
As opposed to the rugged, incredibly sexy man who’d chased the bear off without concern for life or limb. Her ex wouldn’t even fight the field mouse that once tried to share their apartment. “That bear didn’t look afraid of anything, not even you.”
“Oh, he wasn’t. But neither did he want to start a fight.” His smile faded. “You need to lock up every night and never, ever leave any food in it. Not even gum. And . . .” He reached into her passenger door and pulled out what looked like the passenger-seat headrest. “You’re going to need a new one of these.” He eyed her sneakers as she came toward him. “And some snow boots.”
“It’s July.”
“And?”
She sighed. “I didn’t expect snow. Nor for that snow to be so . . . cold.”
He reached back into her car and pulled out a round tin and a large jar. “The bear was just about to get into these.”
She gasped at the sight of the jar. “My sourdough bread starter! You saved her!”
He looked down at it. “Her? This . . . gunk is a her?”
“Yes.” She snatched it from him. “She’s the best sourdough bread starter on the planet. It was my mom’s secret recipe.” She hugged the jar to her chest, feeling ridiculously emotional. What if the bear had broken the jar? She could re-create the sourdough starter, but she couldn’t replace her mom’s jar. “Thank you,” she said when she could talk again. She nodded to the tin still in his hands. “That’s filled with my specialty chocolate and mint chip cookies. Take some.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to—”
“Eat one and then tell me you wouldn’t kill for the rest.”
He opened the tin, picked up one of her huge, fluffy cookies, and took a bite. “Oh my God,” he murmured, and closed his eyes.
“Right?”
He held up a hand, like he needed a moment. Not opening his eyes, he finished the cookie before looking at her. “They’re all right.”
She arched a brow and took the tin back. “Since you didn’t want them—”
“Whoa, no need to be hasty.” He grabbed a few more cookies.
She smiled, quite pleased with herself and her cookies.
He looked back at her car. “Anything else valuable in there?”
“Nothing like this. Seriously, thank you.”
“So, I’m guessing this is your first experience with snow.”
“Of course not. I used to go to Disneyland every single Christmas.” She smiled. “They blow snow onto Main Street.”
“I stand corrected,” he said, and looked her over, clearly taking in her pj’s. “Please tell me you didn’t really sleep in there last night.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
“Harper, it dropped down to twenty-one degrees.”
Yeah, she’d noticed, and damn, certain parts of her noticed something else—the way her name sounded on his lips. “It was fine,” she said. “The raccoon mama hardly objected.”
“Ah, damn. Roxy’s back?”
“Roxy?”
“A pesky raccoon fond of finer living.”
“She has two babies with her.”
Bodie ran a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I’ve caught her twice and let her go out in the woods. Before my brother and I get going on cleaning and painting your place, we’ll relocate her again—”
“No! She’s got babies! She’ll leave when she’s ready.”
He looked at her as if she was bonkers, and hell, maybe she was.
“Look, Harper, if I’d known you didn’t have a place to stay, I’d have given you my buddy’s number. He runs a B-and-B down the road.”
She shook her head. “It was fine,” she repeated.
“It’s not fine, it’s a mess. You’ve got no utilities and a bunch of other problems, like the kitchen sink’s slow leak. It mostly just needs a wrench every once in a while, which is why there’s a toolbox beneath your sink, but we intended to get everything fixed before you moved in.”
“Hardly matters when I don’t have water anyway.”
He grimaced, like she wasn’t making him feel better. “The utilities are coming on by noon.”
“Great, thank you.” She wasn’t sorry she’d stayed. Yes, she was saving every single penny she had as capital for getting her bakery up and running. But more importantly, if she’d gone somewhere else last night, Ivy might’ve frozen to death. “Thanks for facing down the bear for me, I really appreciate it. But I’ll clean the place myself. I like to clean, it’s my thinking time. So don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control.” This was pure bluster on her part, because honestly, between her and . . . well, her, she wasn’t at all sure she had anything at the moment, much less anything under control. But she intended to get there, raccoons, bears, and spiders be damned.