Wrapped Up in You (Heartbreaker Bay, #8)(11)

“Isn’t her daughter old enough to stay alone?”

“Yeah, but I’d have killed for a safe place to stay when I was fourteen,” she said. “Plus, she’s having trouble with math class and it’s my strong suit. Not to mention, I’ve got heat and Netflix.” She unlocked the front door, which led to a hallway and a set of stairs. The hallway had fake, cheesy holly strung along the walls, held there by duct tape. There were lights too, but they weren’t working.

At least someone had tried.

They began climbing, with Kel eyeing Ivy with a newfound respect. He was getting an idea as to what her childhood had been like and why she wore an armor of toughness, but it seemed that shell of hers hid a tender heart.

The second floor landing had even more holiday decorations and he took a moment to admire the resourcefulness of someone who’d stacked Heineken beer cans—green and white—to make small Christmas trees.

“Why are you doing this?” Ivy asked as they kept climbing, sounding genuinely confused.

“Someone broke into your place of business. Maybe they hit your home too.”

“I told you, it was random. Someone just needing food and money.”

“Probably,” he agreed as they came to the next set of stairs. She took off her hoodie and for a moment gave him a glorious view as he walked behind her on the steps. But then she tied the sweatshirt around her waist, once again covering a fantastic ass that had been perfectly showcased in her leggings. But now she wore only a tank top and that was nice too. “I just want to make sure you get home safe. Is that so odd?”

She didn’t answer.

Which was an answer in itself. In her world, it was odd.

They hit the third floor landing. No holiday decorations here at all. The next set of stairs narrowed and steepened. At the top, there was a single door, and they had to stand very close together as Ivy unlocked it. Close enough that he caught the scent of her shampoo and the fact that she had a tiny, dainty tattoo scripted on the back of her right shoulder—this too shall pass . . .

Ivy turned on a light. Kel poked his head in and took a quick glance around to make sure it was all clear. The open loft could be seen all in one glimpse. The steep pitch of the roof meant slanted walls, which limited much of her space, but open rafters allowed for a large fan to drop down and stir the air. The wood floors were scarred and scuffed, and dotted with throw rugs. Furniture was sparse. A small couch and coffee table, a nook in the small kitchenette with a couple of barstools, and a four poster bed in the far corner, covered with a thick quilt and what appeared to be at least a million pillows. All of it looked like it belonged in another time period.

She shrugged. “The price is right.”

His gaze slid to hers. “I wasn’t judging you.”

“BS.”

“Okay, so I was judging all the pillows. How do you sleep with that many?”

She laughed, that same sweet, infectious sound from earlier, but she didn’t respond, just shook her head. And remained firmly in her doorway, clearly blocking him from coming in any further.

Yeah. Serious trust issues.

“Can I see your phone?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

Afraid she wouldn’t give it to him if he told her he wanted to enter his number in, he just wriggled his fingers in a “gimme” gesture.

She shook her head, but fished the phone out of her pocket.

“Unlock it?”

“Alright,” she said, “but just so you’re aware, that’s not where I keep the nudes.”

He smiled and thumbed his contact information into her phone.

“You really think I’m going to call you?” she asked, amused.

“If you have any more problems, I hope you will.” He held out her phone. She reached for it, but he held firm for a second as their gazes met and held. “Ivy.”

She stared at him, then lifted a shoulder. Maybe, the gesture said. Which was the best he was going to get.

Then, still maintaining the eye contact, she took her phone, retreated a step, and slowly shut her door in his face.

He stared at the wood, thinking she was possibly the most fascinating and frustrating woman he’d ever met.

“Why are you still standing there?” came her voice from the other side of the door.

“I’m waiting for you to lock the door and slide on your security chain,” he said.

There was a beat of silence during which he imagined her prickly pride at being told what to do was warring with her common sense. But then came the sound of the lock and the chain sliding into place.

“Night, Trouble,” he said, and then he had no choice but to walk away.





Chapter 5




Less chitchatting, more ass-kicking!



At five thirty in the morning, Ivy was flat on her back on the mats. With a groan, she rolled to her knees and got back up. She was in kickboxing class with her friends Tae, Abi, and Haley, and they were all lined up facing a row of punching bags.

Ivy’s had punched back.

Sort of the theme of her life.

“Dig deep!” her instructor yelled.

“I’d like to go deep,” Haley whispered on Ivy’s left. Haley was an optometrist who worked on the second floor of the Pacific Pier Building. “Deep back into my bed.”