Several days later, Harper woke up just before dawn, wearing a smile and enjoying the feeling of a warm body in her bed. It took her a few moments to wake up enough to realize it was Ham.
And not Bodie.
She closed her eyes again, but they popped open when she heard a soft cry. She tossed off her covers, and her bare feet hit the floor at a run. Skidding to a stop in the office doorway, she found Ivy thrashing around in her sleeping bag, having a bad dream, if the soft whimpering was anything to go by. “Ivy,” she said softly, not wanting to scare her. “Ivy, wake up. You’re okay, you’re safe here.”
Ivy jerked upright, hair rioted around her head, looking much, much younger than her sixteen years. “Wha—”
“You were having a bad dream.”
Harper watched as Ivy pulled the covers protectively to her chin. “I wasn’t,” she said. “I’m fine.”
Harper drew a deep breath. In the past, she’d skimmed through all her relationships, including the one with her father, never going much past the surface, since doing so always seemed to get her hurt. But she was starting a new life, and that meant doing things differently this time, and opening herself up. And if she could help Ivy by doing so, she would. “I used to have bad dreams.”
Ivy met her gaze. “Why?”
Open a vein and bleed? Or keep it together? Harper drew a deep breath. “I told you it was just me and my dad, right?”
“Yes. Your mom died when you were twelve.”
Harper nodded. “That year, a teacher tried to get me taken away from my dad for neglect. She thought she was doing the right thing. She’d been helping me . . .” She broke off for a minute because it turned out opening a vein hurt like hell. “She found out my dad was staying at his girlfriend’s a lot while I was at home alone. She always made sure I had food and that I got rides to and from school, stuff like that. But when my dad and his girlfriend went on a trip without making arrangements for me, she called Child Services.”
Ivy made a small sound. “What happened?”
“They’d just lined up a foster home for me when my dad came back. He had to fight to keep me, and in my nightmares, he didn’t. Fight for me.”
Ivy’s face said she knew the feeling all too well. “He doesn’t sound like a good dad.”
“I mean, at the time I would’ve agreed with you, but in retrospect, I think he did the best he could with what he had.”
Ivy shook her head but didn’t say anything other than, “Parents suck.”
“Not all of them,” Harper said. “My mom, she was everything. And in his own way, my dad loves me.” She had to believe that.
“Then you’re lucky.” Ivy bit her lip, clearly holding something back.
“What?”
“So you lived with him and the girlfriend? For how long?”
“I left when I turned eighteen.” The minute she’d turned eighteen. It’d been . . . okay, but she’d definitely been hardly even an afterthought to either of them. She’d hated the feeling.
Ivy hesitated again.
“It’s okay,” Harper told her. “You can ask me anything.”
“I didn’t realize how hard it would be to get food and a safe place to sleep.”
Looking at Ivy was like looking at her own past self, and it hurt her heart. “And you want to know how I got by?”
Ivy nodded.
“I was lucky. I had a car. A total POS, but it ran okay. My dad paid for my college tuition, but he didn’t have the money for anything else. So I lived in my car.”
Ivy’s head came up, and she stared at Harper, her surprise evident. “You did?”
“For the longest month of my life, yeah. I worked at a deli and also nannied. I borrowed the books I needed and ate a lot of peanut butter and ramen. Once I had enough saved, I shared a one-room apartment with four other students.” She gave a little laugh. “Honestly? I had more room in my car than I did in that apartment. This place seems like a mansion.”
Ivy smiled. “To me too. I have more room here than I’ve ever had anywhere, thanks to you. I’m going to pay you rent for my time here, I promise.”
“Your money isn’t good here.”
“Because you feel sorry for me?”
“Because I’ve been you. I believe in paying it forward.”
Ivy took that in and nodded. “Someday I want to be able to do the same for someone.” She lay back down and pulled the covers over her head. “Tell me when you’re out of the bathroom and I’ll get up.”
Subject closed. “You can sleep longer,” Harper said.
“I want to work.”
And earn money. And oh, how Harper got that. Money for people like herself and Ivy meant freedom. She went and took a shower in the deliciously hot water without seeing a single spider.
Or a raccoon.
She dressed and tried not to notice that her hair was big enough to qualify for its own zip code. She went downstairs with a pep in her step. Her pod was due to arrive today, and she couldn’t wait to unpack.
And start baking.
She made coffee and stumbled around a bit until her caffeine kicked in. Bodie and his brothers had finished painting yesterday. After, Ivy had helped her clean out the cabinets and cupboards and lined them with cheerful shelf liners that she’d bought at a cute kitchen supply store down the street. Of course she hadn’t made a list, so she’d forgotten stuff and had to go back twice . . .
She’d found an old box of kitchen stuff in her kitchen closet. She’d called Bodie, who’d told her it’d come from the pizzeria that had been there before and that she was welcome to whatever was in the box. She hadn’t had time until now, so she started to open up the box, only to be interrupted by a knock at her back door.
It was Bodie, carrying a bag that smelled amazing. He was in his usual uniform of jeans and a T-shirt. He hadn’t shaved, and he looked dangerous and sexy. Or sexily dangerous . . .
Ham apparently thought so too, because he wiggled his way over to his new boyfriend and flopped to his back for a belly rub.
Bodie handed Harper the bag and crouched to love up on her dog.
She opened the bag and found two huge foil-wrapped bacon, egg, and cheese on sourdough sandwiches. “Wow, thank you. Did you make these?”
“Depends on if you like them.” He helped himself to some of her coffee and gave a sexy masculine groan. “Good God, woman. This is the best coffee I’ve ever had.”
“Compared to yours, yes,” she said on a laugh. “Coffee isn’t your strong suit.”
“Don’t worry, I have other strong suits.”
“Hmm.” She’d have to limit her time staring at him. It made her ache for things she’d told herself she no longer wanted. “I guess you get pretty good at flirting when you work at a bar.”
“You think I’m good at flirting?”
She thought he was probably good at a lot of things. “Yes.”
“I’m not.” He shook his head. “And I don’t flirt at the bar. I don’t like mixing business with pleasure, and I’ve been all business for a long time. Keeps life easy. I don’t have what it takes to go deeper. Apparently I’m not particularly expressive or nurturing enough.”
Nothing in her life had been easy. Daniel had been charming and funny, but expressive or nurturing? Definitely not. She hadn’t really realized how badly she’d needed more until she’d taken a step back. Now here was another man, one who outright admitted he wasn’t capable of those things or going deeper.
The problem was, his actions didn’t match his words. He’d made her breakfast. And he had no problem letting her know that he wanted her. He’d even opened up a little about his past . . . more than she had done.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Well, I’m not very good at flirting. Or asking enough of the people in my life. My last relationship, the one I’d been in since my freshman year of college, was . . . toxic. It’s part of why I needed a new start, far away from San Diego.”
“Brave,” he said softly, his eyes letting her know he meant it as a compliment.
“No, not brave at all,” she said on a rough laugh. “I stayed with Daniel for years and didn’t even know he was unhappy. Everyone else knew; our mutual friends, his family, my dad, everyone but me knew that he was bored and needed something new and shiny. I was so blinded by loyalty and commitment that I didn’t see there was a problem until I came home one day and all his stuff was gone.”
Bodie shook his head. “If he was unhappy and you didn’t see it, it was because he didn’t let you see it. You can’t fix something you don’t even know is broken.”
She’d never looked at it like that. Not once.
“Is that why you moved?” he asked.
“First I flailed around for a year feeling sorry for myself,” she admitted. “Then I got over myself and decided to start over. Here.”
“Brave,” he repeated softly.
Because his admission felt too good, she brushed it off. “No more than you, moving from the other side of the country to start a new career.”
“That wasn’t bravery. I came back home to a safety net. You did the opposite.” He looked away, then met her gaze. “You know things went FUBAR. But what I didn’t tell you was that our CI turned and gave us bad intel. My partner was killed.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” She watched him absently rub up and down his thigh, hating what he’d been through. Putting her hand over his, she felt the knotted muscles. He’d had a whole big, huge badass life before this one. He was only a few years older than her, but going off of life experiences, he was light-years ahead. He’d seen and done things that had changed him in ways she’d never understand. “And you were left for dead too.”
“Yeah, and before I recovered, I lost my dad.”
She sucked in air. “Oh, Bodie.” She didn’t take her eyes from his. Couldn’t. He’d come so close to not making it himself, and then to lose his partner and dad in one fell swoop . . . her heart ached for him. “And you’re still not sure how to come back from that.”
“I’m working on it.” He gave a small smile as he tugged on one of her wild curls. “Looks good in here. You’ve done a lot of work.”
He clearly wanted to move on from that conversation, which was something she understood. “With help.” She unwrapped one of the sandwiches. It was so big it could’ve fed her for a week. So she cut it in half and rewrapped the other half for Ivy, pushing the still-whole one his way. “You eat yet?”
“No, but that’s for the kid.”
“We’ve got plenty here,” she said. “Eat.” And then she took a bite.
“I wasn’t sure if you liked bacon or sausage—” he started, but stopped when she held up a hand, much like he’d done when he’d first tasted her cookies.
“Dear. God.” She couldn’t say more because her mouth was in heaven. “I think I’m having a sexual experience, just me and this sandwich.”
He tipped his head back and laughed softly.
“I’m serious. I want to marry this sandwich and have its babies.” She took another bite and moaned. “Why aren’t you selling these?”
“Because they’re made with love and you can’t put a price on that.” He laughed again when she choked on a bite. “That’s what my mom tells me anyway. And I can cook, I’m just not that into it, so . . .”
“But you’re into being a bartender?”
His smile faded some, and he shrugged.
“You’re not into being a bartender?” When he just took another bite, she nodded. “Let me guess. A conversation for another time?”
He smiled, tapped a finger to his nose, and nodded to the old box on the counter. “What did you find?”
“Haven’t looked yet.” Reaching into the box, she pulled out some cute old wooden signs.
you had me at pizza.
have a slice day.
i wonder if pizza thinks about me too.
She laughed out loud. They even got a smile out of Bodie. That was, until she pulled out a stack of photos, including one of a lanky-lean teenage Bodie wearing an apron behind the front counter. She snorted.
“Yuk it up,” he said. “But I was employee of the month nine months running between my sophomore and junior years of high school. I’ll have you know I was a heartbreaker in the hairnet and uniform.”
She laughed. “I worked at Taco Bell in high school. Our manager always threatened to fire whoever was on last shift if there was food left over. Not knowing he couldn’t really do that, I’d always eat whatever hadn’t sold. Good thing I loved their food. I finally had to quit or buy new clothes.”
He grinned. “What were you like in high school?”
She hadn’t thought back that far in a long time. “Lonely.”
With their hands full of their food, he nudged his shoulder gently to hers in commiseration. “Is your dad upset you moved so far?”
“He’s pretty busy with his new family.”
He studied her face, seemed to read her mind, and shook his head. “His loss.”
She made a show of looking at him as a teenager and smiled.
He tried to take it. “I should burn that.”
“No way. I’m keeping it. It’s going up on my wall of fame.”
“Wall of fame?”
She smiled. “Customers. Employees.” She nearly said “friends” but didn’t want to seem presumptuous. “Stuff like that.” She looked at the pic again. “You clearly didn’t have an evil manager who made you eat the leftovers. You were so skinny.”
“I was a late bloomer. Took me a while to fill out.”
She eyed his tall, muscled form, thinking he’d filled out perfectly, and he laughed softly, sexily.
“Just making sure you can handle helping me unload all my earthly possessions when they arrive,” she lied.
“I can handle anything you throw my way, don’t you worry.”
And if that didn’t give her a secret little thrill . . . “Great, because I need help putting together two shelving kits I had delivered.”
“I’m all yours.”
Flustered at that, she took another bite of her sandwich. “This really is so good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Did you make the pizzas?”
He smiled, letting her change the subject with no comment. “Nope. I wasn’t trusted in the kitchen. I was allowed to clean up and serve customers. My dad wouldn’t hire me as a server or a busboy at the bar until I learned the ropes somewhere else. Said I had a bad attitude and needed someone as a boss who’d kick my ass.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in her laughter and failed. “And did you? Have a bad attitude?”
“I really did. My mom would say I still do.”
“This, I believe,” she said, enjoying the peek into his past. She was so curious about him. “So . . . did the owner of the pizzeria kick your ass?”
“More than once.” He smiled though, as if getting a kick out of the memory. “Toughest boss I’ve ever had.”
“Why did he close up shop?”
“She,” he said. “My grandma. She retired. Lives in Palm Springs now and keeps busy terrorizing the seniors in the assisted-living home.”
On another laugh, she pulled out a second pic, this one of teenage Bodie and a teenage girl, both wearing aprons behind the bakery counter. Grinning at each other. The girl was Shay, she realized, looking younger and definitely happier.
“We both worked here,” Bodie said. “Tried my charm on her, but she wasn’t having it. It was always Mace for her.”
“She break your heart?”
“Nah.” He grinned. “I had a short attention span back then.”
“You were a player,” she said, not all that surprised.
“I was Trouble. Capital T.”
She smiled. “I bet. Always in love?”
“Lust? Yes. Love?” He shook his head. “No.”
She studied his face. “Never?”
He shrugged. “I’ve given it a shot a couple of times. Didn’t work out. Love isn’t for me.”
“Same,” she said, and stood, walking to the sink to look out the window, feeling a damper on her current happy, with no idea why. “I don’t want anything serious ever again.” Because what kind of a person went into a relationship when they knew they weren’t whole? Still, there was a flash of disappointment knowing they’d never give this attraction between them a real shot.
Bodie came up behind her. “And what is it you do want?” he asked softly.
She turned, and they stared at each other for a long, charged beat, the moment having gone from joking to serious. Finally, she drew a breath. “I thought I knew, but apparently my brain and my body haven’t come to terms.”
He ran the tip of a finger along her temple, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “But nothing serious.”
Her gaze was locked on his mouth. “I’m allergic to serious.”
“Understood.” He took the last step between them, moving with clear intent but also slowly, giving her the chance to back away. And she should back away. Instead, she met him halfway, went up on her tiptoes to brush her lips across his. When she felt his tiny start of surprise, she kissed him again. He let her lead, giving a rough groan when she touched her tongue to his. Then she stopped thinking as things detonated.
By the time he pulled back an inch, she’d forgotten where they were and possibly also her name. He searched her eyes—for what, she had no idea. Her heart was thundering at heart-attack level, and she was hot all over, in some places more than others.
He looked at her for a second longer before lowering his mouth to hers again, just as a sound came from upstairs. Ivy. Good God. Harper had completely forgotten they weren’t alone, and she jumped back from Bodie like he was a hot potato. “Ivy’s upstairs,” she whispered.
He nodded, still much slower to pull back. Eyes on hers, his smile faded. “You okay?”
No. No, she wasn’t. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t ready to feel. “That was stupid. I’m sorry.”
“It was something,” he said slowly. “But not stupid.”
She shook her head. “Look, that was probably inevitable. But we got it out of the way, so now we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”
“Going to be hard to forget.”
Damn. Didn’t she know it.
“Sorry,” Ivy yelled down. “Fell back to sleep! I’m just getting dressed, I’ll be right there.”
Harper had to clear her voice to answer. “No rush!”
“My gut still says she’s a runaway,” Bodie said quietly. “Which means you’re putting yourself at risk here.”
“I know, but she texted her stepsister, who she was supposed to be staying with. So she’s not a missing person. Still, the more I talk to her, the more I think her situation is bad.” She leaned in close, not wanting Ivy to overhear them. “If she’s staying here with me, she’s not on the streets facing other dangers.”
“Have you asked her to call her parents? If anyone could convince her, it’d be you.”
“I’m not sure I can convince her to do anything. She’s stubborn. And scared, though she won’t show it. And . . . she’s on a mission.”
“Mission.” He frowned. “What kind of mission?”
She couldn’t break Ivy’s confidence, at least not unless she thought the girl was in actual danger.
“Fine,” he said. “Maybe I could offer to drive her home.”
“Unless you’re willing to drive her to Chicago, it’s a no-go.”
He opened his mouth, but Ivy came clomping down the stairs. “What smells good?”
Harper pushed half of the sandwich toward her.
Ivy pounced on it just as Shay walked in the back door, followed by her abuela, whose sharp black eyes took in the room before she said something to Shay in Spanish.
Shay handed Harper a list.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Things Abuela wants to see in your bakery. She insisted on me telling you what will and won’t sell.”
Harper tried to hand the list back to Shay. “You know how I feel about lists.”
Shay arched a brow. “You want to tell her that?”
Harper looked at Abuela and took the list.
“I’ve got my own list going as well, if you’re interested,” Shay said. “Things I’m out of. You know, in case you happen to see them while you’re out and about.”
“Okay,” Harper said, exasperated. “What are you out of?”
“Wine, patience, fucks.”
Ivy snorted and left the room to start mopping. When she was gone, Harper looked over the list and almost but not quite missed Shay giving Bodie a meaningful look. “Bad idea,” Shay said.
Bodie just looked at her.
Shay rolled her eyes and left.
Abuela smiled at Bodie. Smiled. And then she gently patted him on the cheek and walked out as well.
Harper looked at him. “What was that?”
He shrugged. “Abuela likes me.”
“I meant from Shay. What did she mean by ‘bad idea’?”
“I believe it was a warning.”
“For what?” she asked, eyes narrowed.
“For me not to hurt you.”
Harper blinked, then laughed. “You’ve got that backward. She doesn’t even like me.”
“Probably not,” Bodie said. “She doesn’t like anyone right now. But she could use a friend. She’s good at pretending nothing hurts her, but she is most definitely hurting.”
Harper tried to imagine having the prickly, perpetually irritated Shay as a friend and shook her head. She’d been in too many relationships with people who made her feel bad.
“And hey,” Bodie said. “You just got advice from Abuela, which means she likes you. Shay will come around. They’re good people.”
A week before, Harper had been all alone. And here she was now with a handful of “good people.” It was exciting, but also terrifying, because what if she messed this up and once again ended up with no one?