Wrapped Up in You (Heartbreaker Bay, #8)(4)

Kel rolled his still watering eyes. His grandparents had left him and Remy their ranch, which he oversaw, but had employees handling the day-to-day operations since his day job was more like a 24–7 job. “I’m just a guy on vacay,” he croaked out. The more accurate term would have been assigned-slash-leave, but hell if he was going to share that. Or the fact that his still healing broken ribs ached like a bitch, as did the deep bone bruising he’d suffered down the entire right side of his body from being pitched into the air by a moving vehicle.

Caleb snorted. “You don’t do vacay. As evidenced by the fact you agreed to work for me for the entire two weeks you’re here. I needed him,” he said to Ivy. “He’s got serious skills. He’s going to manage security on several large projects, including my most recently acquired building, the one being renovated into condos.” He looked at Kel. “Ivy’s going to buy one with her brother, who’s an antiquities specialist. It’s a great investment,” he said like a proud parent, even though at thirty-two, he couldn’t have been more than five years or so older than Ivy.

“Actually, it might just be me investing,” Ivy said. “Brandon just got into a deal on the East Coast I was telling you about.”

“The auction house job.”

“Yes, and it’s going to keep him busy for a while, so . . .” She shrugged. “I told him I’d go after this myself.”

“That’s too bad,” Caleb said. “Was looking forward to meeting him.”

Kel stopped chewing because something in Ivy’s tone had just set off his bullshit radar. She was either lying or stretching the truth, but his eyes were still watering and his throat was burning or he might’ve joined the conversation.

Ivy reached out as if to take away his basket, but he held firm to it and kept eating. He was starting to sweat and he couldn’t feel his lips, but he also couldn’t get enough.

“Okay, cowboy, it’s your funeral,” she said, and he couldn’t tell if she was impressed or horrified.

A few more people were milling around her truck now, and she eyed her watch.

“They start lining up earlier every day,” Caleb said.

“Hey, Ivy,” one of the guys who was waiting called out. “The fuzz! They’re coming around the corner!”

“Crap!” Ivy ran toward her truck, yelling to the people standing in line, “I’ll be back in ten minutes. If you wait and save my spot, I’ll give you a discount!” And then she slapped the window and door closed and roared off down the street.

A minute later a cop drove by slowly, but didn’t stop. When he was gone, the group of people who’d been lining up for tacos stepped into the empty parking spot Ivy had left.

Not ten seconds later, a car came along and honked at the people standing in the spot. “Get out of my way,” the driver yelled.

No one budged.

The car window lowered and a hand emerged, flipping everyone the bird.

This didn’t make anyone move either, and finally the guy swore and drove off in a huff.

“What the hell?” Kel asked.

“She’s not supposed to be on the street before seven,” Jake said.

“I’m working on getting her a city permit,” Caleb said. “They’re extremely hard to get.”

Kel was boggled. “But . . . those people are blocking the street. They could get a ticket.”

“Thought you weren’t a cop,” Caleb said, looking amused.

Kel shook his head and went back to his tacos, and for a guy who believed in the law, when the incredible burst of flavors once again hit his tongue, he thought maybe he could understand the flagrant disregard of it in this one case.





Chapter 2




Go hard or don’t go at all



That night, Ivy stayed up late paying the bills that couldn’t wait any longer, setting aside the ones that could, playing around with her credit card, doing the monthly money dance between bank accounts. Just the insurance policies alone—general liability, business owner, commercial auto, self-employed health care—nearly killed her.

But it was also an undeniable thrill to be legit.

For someone who’d grown up in dumpy trailers and motels across the southern states, living off her mom’s cash tips from singing in lounges and crap bars, it was certainly surreal.

She even had a savings account, which made her smile every time she thought about it. A savings! She’d been in the city for just over a year now, living off next to nothing in order to put away every spare penny. She had eighteen grand put away, a fortune for her. But she was still two grand short of having enough for the down payment on a condo in Caleb’s newly acquired and renovated building. The twenty thousand was only half the required down, but there was a first-time buyers program in play to ensure equality of housing, and the mortgage broker—Caleb—was going to match her down payment. The agreement was that she’d work that debt off by catering all of his business events, of which there were many. This was a good deal for both of them. Ivy didn’t have to put up cash she didn’t have, and Caleb was guaranteed her most excellent catering, if she said so herself.

For the first time in her life, she just felt ridiculously proud of herself. She was so close to having it all together. She wanted that condo. Needed that condo. It would be 1,600 square feet of home, and it even came with a parking space for her truck.