The Lemon Sisters

by Jill Shalvis

  But that was all behind her now. She’d promised herself. So she gave the guy a vague not-interested smile and turned away to look out the window. Rude? Maybe. But she was admittedly more than a bit calloused these days and—as every guy she’d ever let get too close had complained—a tough nut to crack. The words cold and scary had also been thrown around.

  She didn’t mind. She actually liked it, even as she realized the image went completely against her Disney princess–like moniker, “Ivy Snow.” But hey, it wasn’t like she’d named herself. Her mother had done that, reportedly on some good prescription meds at the time.

  At her stop, she exited the bus and walked the last two blocks to work, getting a little happier with each step because one, exercise was over for the day, and two, she loved her job.

  For as long as she could remember, her entire life had been temporary. She’d gone to fifteen different schools before getting her GED at age sixteen. As a result, she was a pro chameleon and excelled at temporary—temporary friends, temporary jobs, temporary life. It had suited her for a long time. Until it didn’t.

  She’d woken up one day about a year ago and had realized she’d changed. Moving around no longer suited her, and she was over living out of a backpack. So at the dubiously mature age of twenty-eight, she was now trying a new lane. She’d settled in the Cow Hollow District of San Francisco, running a thing called the Taco Truck and living in an apartment that had her name on the lease.

  Roots. After a lifetime of running, being invisible, and just barely getting by, she was growing roots. She was going to get the life that until now had only existed for her on TV and in movies. Meaning friends and family, real family who’d stick with her through thick and thin. And maybe . . . maybe even someone to love.

  It was unnerving that she was actively working toward the very things that had terrified her for most of her life, but she’d decided she would rather be scared shitless than live with regrets. So she’d learned to put a smile on her face, because everyone knew you had to fake it to make it, right?

  The Taco Truck was parked in the alley behind the Pacific Pier building. She kept it there at night thanks to the fact that the owner of the building, Spence Baldwin, loved her food. On workdays, she pulled the truck out to the street at the entrance to the building’s courtyard, always a gamble because her city permit hadn’t yet come through.

  She’d just moved the truck out of the alley and parked to set up for the day when her day’s deliveries arrived. She received her preordered inventory and eyed the time. Six thirty. She opened at seven sharp, so she got started chopping ingredients, frying up meats, and arranging the makings for the day’s menu. Her menu. She liked the work. Actually, she loved the work, and her boss wasn’t bad, either. She smiled at that as she worked, because she was the boss. She owned the truck.

  Okay, so she was making payments on it, but she was actually in the black. Everything about that thought improved her day on the spot. Today she wasn’t going to worry about bills or permits. Or anything. She was going to enjoy herself, her food, and her new goals.

  She turned around in her small but mighty space of seventy-five square feet. It was here where she worked her magic, making what she liked to think were the most delicious tacos in the Bay Area. It wasn’t an easy job. She spent just as much time prepping and being a mechanic as she did being a chef. And then there was the ordering and buying of all the necessary supplies, not to mention the bookkeeping, which often kept her up late into the night.

  Her work was never done, but she was good with that. Hell, she was great with that. After spending most of her life at the mercy of others, she thrived on being independent and having no one tell her what to do or when to do it.

  She was still prepping when she heard voices outside. She handled breakfast and lunch on her own, and then her part-time helper, Jenny, came in the afternoons to handle the dinner crowd. For now, Ivy still had her CLOSED sign up, but the voices stopped right outside her truck. Men, at least two of them, possibly three. With a sigh, she opened the serving window and stuck her head out.

  A trio of extremely hot guys dressed in running gear and looking hungry as hell glanced up from the menu board posted on the side of her truck. Ivy knew two of them, Caleb and Jake, both currently off the market, so she felt free to give them her flirtiest smile and shake her head. “Sorry, boys, not open for another twenty minutes.”

  Jake, who in spite of his wheelchair was one of the strongest, most stoic, badass men she knew, returned her flirty smile while upping it another factor, which she knew was just a ploy. He’d been dating someone for over a year now.

  “But you make the best food in the city,” he said sweetly, as if Ivy could be swayed by sweet. “And we’ve all gotta be at work by seven.”

  Caleb stood at his side. He was a friend and also a savior to Ivy, as he’d helped her navigate the purchase of her truck after dealing with the previous owner had become tricky. “I’m pretty sure you once said you owed me a favor,” he said, also sweetly, and also always the negotiator.

  Knowing the venture capitalist could talk anyone into just about anything, she laughed and gave in. “Fine. Figure out what you want, and make it quick. But then we’re even, Caleb.”

  They weren’t even. She owed him much more than an early breakfast, and they both knew it.

  Having gotten his way as he always did, he smiled. “The usual for me.”

  “Me, too,” Jake said.

  Ivy nodded and turned her attention to the third man.

  She’d never seen him before; she most certainly would have remembered. Like Caleb and Jake, he was in running gear that fit his leanly muscled bod—one that he held in a way that suggested military or cop. The always-on-alert, scared little kid she’d once been sent an automatic warning to her brain. Danger, Will Robinson!

  But she was no longer helpless, she reminded herself. She no longer had to pretend to be tough and brave. She was tough and brave. So she kept her smile in place, forcing herself to relax. She had nothing to hide. Everything she did these days was on the up and up—she’d made sure of it.

  And it wasn’t exactly a hardship to look at him. His smile certainly was heart-stopping as he added his charm to both Caleb’s and Jake’s. And there was considerable charm. He had dark eyes and dark hair cut short, and in spite of his smile, when those eyes met hers, they gave nothing of his thoughts.

  Yep, cop, she thought. Too bad . . .

  ALL KEL O’DONNELL KNEW was that his body ached like a son of a bitch. Pushing it for a five-mile full-out run hadn’t been the smartest of ideas after what he’d been through. But his more immediate problem was that if he didn’t get food, and fast, his stomach was going to eat itself.

  The woman in the taco truck turned to him for his order. “And you?” she asked, her voice slightly amused, as if life wasn’t to be taken too seriously, especially while ordering tacos.

  But he was taking this very seriously, as his hunger felt soul-deep. “What do you suggest?” he asked.

  Her light green eyes slid to the menu written on the side of the truck, the menu she’d probably written herself.

  Not one to waste words then. Something they had in common. “I mean, what’s good?” he asked.

  This caused twin groans from his cousin Caleb and their longtime friend Jake, which Kel ignored.

  Not his server, though. She quirked a single brow, the small gesture making him feel more than he had in months. Certainly since his life had detonated several months ago, when he’d chased after a suspect and then been hit by the getaway car, getting himself punted a good fifteen feet into the air. No worries—the asphalt pavement had broken his fall, which was when he’d realized he’d been duped by a dirty cop. And not any dirty cop, but a longtime friend and also his partner, nearly costing him his career.

  But hell, at least his life wasn’t on the line this time, or his livelihood. It was just a pretty woman giving him some cute, sexy ’tude while waiting for him to choo
se between avocado and bacon tacos and spicy green eggs and ham tacos.

  She glanced over at his running partners.

  “You’re going to have to excuse my dumbass cousin, Ivy,” Caleb said. “Kel hasn’t lived in San Francisco for a long time and doesn’t know that you’ve got the best food truck in all of Cow Hollow. Hell, in the whole Bay Area.”

  “It’s true,” Jake said, and nudged Kel, and since Jake was in a wheelchair, Kel got the nudge right in the back of the knee and just about went down.

  “Everything on the menu, and I do mean everything,” Jake told him, “is gold. It’ll all melt in your mouth and make you want to drop to your knees and beg Ivy here to marry you, trust me.”

  At this, Ivy sent Jake the sweetest smile Kel had ever seen. Then those compelling eyes were back on him, the sweet completely gone.

  All right. So clearly he was rusty at this whole being human thing, but given the past six months of hell, this wasn’t a surprise. He tried a slow, easy smile that had gotten him whatever he’d wanted in the past. “What do you like best?” he asked her.

  Jake just grinned. “Aw, man, she’s gonna eat you up and spit you out. I’m so happy.”

  Caleb just winced.

  Ivy leaned out her serving window a little bit, bracing her weight on her elbows. She had hair the color of fire, a stunning pile of red held back by an elvish headband that left a few strands around her face, framing it. Her apron read I DON’T WANNA TACO ’BOUT IT. “What do I like best?” she echoed, a small smile playing on her lips.

  “Yeah.” Just looking at her, he could feel himself relax for the first time in . . . way too long. Something about her did that to him. Instant chemistry. He hadn’t felt it often in his life, and it always ended up a train wreck, so why the hell he felt relaxed, he had no idea. But it had him flashing another smile. “How about you pick for me?”

  A smile curved her mouth. “Fair warning—I like things hot.”

  “I love things hot,” he said.

  Caleb and Jake both shook their heads.

  “I didn’t think he was stupid,” Jake murmured to Caleb.

  “Shh. I don’t want to miss him getting his ass handed to him.”

  Ivy just cocked her head at Kel. “Think you can handle the heat?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Five minutes.” And she shut the window on them.

  Kel followed the guys to one of the two picnic tables at the entrance to the courtyard, where they sat to wait for their food.

  Caleb looked at Kel and shook his head. “Man, as much as I enjoy seeing you get your ego squashed, I feel duty bound to warn you: Whatever’s making you smile, it’s never going to happen. Ivy’s not the girl you have fun with and walk away from. And plus, she hates cops.”

  “Agreed,” Jake said. “You’ve got a better shot at stealing Sadie away from Caleb. And good luck with that. Your cousin’s woman is batshit crazy over him, God knows why.”

  Caleb just smiled, apparently not feeling the need to defend his relationship.

  Kel was happy for him. Very happy. Caleb hadn’t given his heart away . . . ever. And for good reasons, which Kel had hated for him because he was a good guy. “About time you found someone who deserves you.”

  Caleb met his gaze. “I like having you here,” he said quietly, kind enough to leave out the tone of recrimination. What he didn’t add was that it’d been a long time, too long—which had been all Kel’s fault. He’d spent the first ten years of his life here in the city, he and his sister and his parents. They’d lived next door to his aunt and her kids, including Caleb. Kel hadn’t realized it at the time, but they’d all been poor as dirt, because his parents had always managed to make it seem like they’d had everything they’d needed.

  Then his mom had destroyed the happy illusion with a single, shattering mistake, creating a huge rift none of them had recovered from. Two years later had come yet another blow. His dad had died, and Kel and his older sister, Remy, had gone to Idaho to be raised by their grandparents.

  It’d sucked.

  “You see Remy yet?” Caleb asked.

  Kel’s sister had moved back here to San Francisco after getting married last year. And no, he hadn’t seen her yet. And yes, he was stalling.

  “Your mom?” Caleb asked.

  Kel slid him a look.

  Caleb raised his hands. “Hey, just asking.”

  “Uh-huh. Do you ask all your employees such personal questions?”

  “No, just my brother.”

  “I’m your cousin.”

  “You’re my brother,” Caleb said with meaning.

  Kel sighed and looked over at Jake.

  Jake shrugged. “He likes to adjust facts to suit him. But you knew that already.”

  Ivy came out of the truck with three baskets. She served Jake first, then Caleb, and finally Kel. She handed him his basket and stood there at his side, a tiny pixie of a woman in that sassy apron, elvish headband, and painted-on jeans, faded to a buttery softness with a few ragged holes that he somehow knew were authentic and not purchased that way. Her boots were serious and kickass, and because he was a very sick man, they turned him on.

  Since she was clearly going nowhere until he tried her food, he took a bite of what looked like the most amazing breakfast taco he’d ever seen and . . . almost died. It was very spicy, but also the best thing he’d ever tasted.

  Ivy smiled at him. “Still think you can handle the heat?”

  Jake and Caleb were doubled over, laughing their asses off. “I’m not a cop,” he managed to wheeze, holding her gaze while he took another bite. And another. Holy shit, yeah, he was going to eat her food the entire three weeks he was here. If he lived that long.

  “He’s a sheriff and ranch owner in Idaho,” Caleb said helpfully. “So . . . kind of a cop.”

  “Also kind of a cowboy,” Jake added.

  Kel rolled his watering eyes. His grandparents had left him and Remy their ranch, which he oversaw, mostly by paying others to handle the day-to-day operations because his dad 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/medical 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 that you agreed to work for me for the entire three 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 older than Ivy.

  “Actually, it might just be me investing,” Ivy said. “Brandon just got into that smokin’ 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.”

  There’d been something to Ivy’s tone that was off. Either she was lying or stretching the truth—both things were automatic alarms for Kel. But his eyes were still watering and his tongue was numb, otherwise he might have 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.

  Two minutes later a cop car drove by slowly, but kept going. When it was gone, the group of people who’d been lining up all stepped into the empty parking spot Ivy had left.

  Ten seconds later, a car came along and honked. The driver wanted the spot.

  No one budged.

  The window on the car rolled down and a hand emerged, flipping everyone the bird.

  This didn’t make anyone move, either, and finally the car drove off.

  “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.”

  “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 hit his tongue, he thought maybe he could understand the flagrant disregard of it in this one case.

  Praise for Jill Shalvis

  “Sisterhood takes center stage in this utterly absorbing novel. Jill Shalvis balances her trademark sunny optimism and humor with unforgettable real-life drama. A book to savor—and share.”

  —Susan Wiggs, New York Times bestselling author, on The Lemon Sisters

  “Jill Shalvis’s books are funny, warm, charming, and unforgettable.”

  —RaeAnne Thayne, New York Times bestselling author

  “With a fast pace and a lovely mix of romance and self-discovery, Shalvis’s novel is chock-full of magnetic characters and seamless storytelling, rich with emotions, and impossible to put down.”