Wrapped Up in You Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Author Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  Announcement to Almost Just Friends Chapter 1

  About the Author

  By Jill Shalvis

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Author Note

  Whelp, as it happens, authors make mistakes. I think, I hope, the trick to forgiveness is to admitting those mistakes. What mistake, you ask? In a previous book, it’s very briefly mentioned that Kel’s mom passed away. That’s not true. She is alive and well and causing some havoc in this book. Just wanted to let you know in order to avoid any confusion. Yes, I said she was dead. No, she’s not dead. Consider it deleted.

  :) Happy Reading!

  XOXO, Jill

  Chapter 1

  Dig deep

  “Stay down.”

  No, she would not stay down. Mostly because Ivy Snow didn’t know the meaning of the words. Not once in her hard-knock, scrappy life had she ever “stayed down.” So she popped back up, using a spin and a roundhouse kick to level her opponent.

  Her kickboxing partner and friend hit the mat and grinned from flat on her back. “That’s gotta be worth at least a donut. You’re buying.”

  “Can’t,” Ivy said, eyeing the time. “I’ve gotta get to work.”

  “Well damn.” Sadie sat up and yawned. “I’ve still got a whole hour and a half before I have to do the same, which means I’m going back to bed. And if I’m lucky, Caleb’ll still be in it.”

  Caleb was Sadie’s fiancé. Ignoring the little spurt of envy at the thought of having someone waiting in bed for her, Ivy hit the locker room to shower and change.

  Fifteen minutes later, suitably beaten up by their four-times-a-week kickboxing session, she left the gym. It was six a.m., her very least favorite time of the day, and she shivered unhappily. It was two weeks before Christmas, which for San Francisco meant it could be any weather at all. Today it was forty-five degrees and she’d forgotten her jacket. She was on a budget, a tight one, but it wasn’t worth freezing to death for a couple of bucks so she decided to forgo walking and hopped on a bus rather than turn into a human popsicle.

  A guy in a suit, sneakers, and holding a huge energy drink took the seat next to her, giving her a not-so-discreet onceover. “Morning,” he said with a charming smile.

  And yes, she’d just felt a little wistful about not having anyone waiting for her in her bed, but that was fantasy, and Ivy was nothing if not grounded in reality. These days she prided herself on her sharply honed survivor skills, but in the past, she’d definitely failed herself in the man department. This was in good part thanks to a wanderlust lifestyle and a weakness for sexy grins that promised—and usually delivered—trouble.

  Like this guy’s.

  But that was all behind her now. She’d promised herself. So she gave him a vague, not-interested smile and turned away to look out the window. Rude? Probably. But she was calloused, and—as every guy she’d ever let in 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 if the image went completely against her Disney princess-like moniker, Ivy Snow. Maybe especially because it did. Her name had been a bone of contention for a long time, but 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 transient. This was mostly thanks to a dad who’d taken off a long time ago and a lounge singer mom who changed bar gigs like other women changed nail polish. As a result, Ivy had gone to a bunch of different schools, managing to slip through a whole bunch of cracks while she was at it. Luckily, she had been insanely curious and loved reading, and had taught herself most of the time. 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 hadn’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 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 for a life that until now had existed for her only on TV and in the movies, meaning friends and family, real family who’d stick with her through thick and thin. And maybe . . . maybe even someone to love.

  Unnerving that she was actively working toward the very things that had terrified her for most of her life, but she’d decided she’d 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 of 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. And his grandpa, Old Man Eddie, who lived in the alley—by choice—had spent most of last year acting as a guard dog for her.

  But just before winter had hit this year, Spence had finally talked his grandpa into taking an apartment in the building, so he no longer had eyes on her truck. Still, it felt safe here.

  On work days, she pulled the truck out to the street at the entrance to the courtyard, always a gamble because her city permit hadn’t yet come through. Permits were incredibly difficult to come by, but she’d been told she was finally going to get one, and hopefully that was true.

  Just looking at the truck had put a smile on her face—a real one. She moved the truck and had just parked 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, 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 these days. Everything about that thought improved her day on the spot. Today she wasn’t going to worry about bills or permits. She was going to enjoy herself, her food, and her new goals.

  She was comfortable here in her small but mighty space of seventy-five square feet, working 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.