Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Owen
Blue and red lights flash in the rearview mirror, and for a split second, I think I’m getting pulled over.
I ease off the gas and check my speed. I’m going twenty-nine in a thirty. Practically saintly.
But the cruiser barrels past, tires slicing through puddles on the winding bluff road.
“What do you think happened?” Hannah asks from the back seat, eyes wide with excitement. “Is there a car chase? A drug bust? Oh! Maybe someone escaped prison—like that episode of Undercover: Surburbia !”
I give her a look in the rearview mirror. “You’ve been watching too much crime TV.”
“But it’s educational.”
“That’s highly debatable.”
My stomach knots as the cruiser swings into the drive next door.
The old Reynolds place.
Which, last I heard, had finally sold after years of the family bickering over who would inherit.
The bungalow had once been charming, but now it was in serious disrepair. Whoever had bought it better be good with a hammer and paintbrush.
“Stay buckled,” I tell my daughter as she scoots toward the window to get a better look.
The sight of flashing lights at the place next door makes my gut twist. Break-ins aren’t supposed to happen in sleepy little Starlight Bay. That’s why I moved back to my hometown after Emily and I unraveled.
I’d needed the quiet streets, even if they came with nosy neighbors.
With one last glance at the old Reynolds’ place, I turn onto the cobblestone drive that leads to my house.
The sound of the heavy rain beating on the roof of the car ends as I pull into the garage. The squeak of the windshield wipers is the only sound in the silence.
A melancholy feeling settles over me as I watch the wipers swish over the windshield. I never envisioned myself going at it alone, but here I am, stumbling my way through single parenthood in the perfect small town.
“Can I have thirty minutes of screen time after piano?” Hannah asks.
“Twenty-five,” I say automatically.
“But I didn’t even use yesterday’s minutes.”
“Minutes don’t rollover,” I say, shutting off the car. “Take it or leave it.”
“What’s a rollover?” she asks, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“It’s…” I start to explain, then stop as the pointlessness of it hits me. “Nevermind. You can have thirty. But go ahead and get a few minutes of practice in before Mrs. Johnson gets here.”
Hannah hops out of the car. “Yay! Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”
“Uh-huh. Sure I am,” I say as she hops out and slams the door before I can change my mind. “When you get what you want, I’m the best.”
Since it’s raining so heavily, I back the car out of the garage so Hannah’s piano teacher can park there and stay out of the rain.
Rather than go inside and listen to Hannah practice, I sit in the car listening to the rain. I savor each quiet moment, knowing they will be the only ones I get tonight.
When Mrs. Johnson pulls into the garage a few minutes later, my time is up. I grab my umbrella and dash through the rain into the garage.
Mrs. Johnson climbs out of her car, eyes wide with curiosity. “What in heaven’s name is happening at the old Reynolds’ place?”
I close my umbrella and place it in the stand by the door. “I’m not sure.”
Her thin eyebrows shoot up on her forehead like exaggerated commas. “I wonder if some bandits are using it as a hideout.”
I smother a laugh. “More than likely a false alarm.”
“Didn’t look like a false alarm to me,” she says, glancing at the door to the house. “Aren’t you worried about Hannah?”
“Hannah?” I open the door. “She’s fine.”
The sound of clanging piano notes drifts down the hall, and Mrs. Johnson winces. “You should probably go check on the commotion next door. Just to make sure.”
I don’t think it’s any of my business to check on the situation, but Mrs. Johnson might have a point. Hannah’s safety is my priority.
“I’ll go take a look,” I say. “You two stay inside with the doors locked until I come back.”
Mrs. Johnson looks more curious than worried as she goes into the house and locks the door. I grab my umbrella and rush back into the pouring rain.
This weather is nothing new for a beach town. We never know when a torrential rain is going to last for hours or turn to drizzle in a flash.
I cross the yard into the old Reynolds’ place, where a late model luxury SUV is parked in front of the house next to the police cruiser.
I should stay out of this. It’s none of my business.
Then I spot two figures huddled on the front porch, and my curiosity gets the best of me.
A woman and a child, and they’re not from around here. The girl is wearing a tutu that looks better suited for a birthday party than a thunderstorm.
The woman is in oversized coveralls, blonde hair plastered to her face.
She’s got one hand protectively in front of the girl like a human shield, the other clenched into a fist. Chin up, eyes narrowed, she’s aiming full hurricane energy at the officer.
“I told you, I’m not breaking in.” The woman’s voice cuts through the rain. “Why are you assuming I am?”
“Just doing my job, ma’am. Someone called it in.”
The woman spots me climbing the steps. Her blue eyes lock on mine in accusation.
“You call this in?” she asks.
I lift both hands. “Wasn’t me.”
Before I can say more, the officer steps forward. “I’m afraid I’ll need to take you in. Protocol.”
The little girl’s face crumples. “Are we going to jail, Mommy?”
The woman drops to her knees and wraps the girl in her arms, shooting us both a glare that could crack stone.
“No. No one’s going to jail,” she says, her voice shaking now. “These men are just… confused.”
“If you’ve got ID, we can clear this up,” the officer offers, sounding more tired than threatening now.
“My car’s locked,” she says. “And my keys are down there.”
She points to a warped board on the porch, where a wide knothole reveals darkness below. I step closer, peer down into it.
“You tossed your keys into a hole?” I ask.
Her eyes bore holes into me. “Of course not. I dropped them.”
The cop flicks his flashlight into the gap, then back to the woman’s face. “Don’t see anything.”
She flinches away from the light, her jaw clenched. “If you call Starlight Bay Real Estate, they’ll confirm it. I own this house.”
From my experience as a single dad, I recognize her tone, which is equal parts fear and exhaustion. She’s barely holding it together while trying not to scare the kid.
And for what it’s worth, my instincts say she’s telling the truth.
“She’s not breaking in,” I say, butting in where I don’t belong.
The woman turns to me, surprise flashing in her eyes. There’s something about her that strikes a chord in my memory. The sharp cheekbones and icy blue eyes seem familiar, but I can’t place how.
“I’m Ivy,” she says. “This is my daughter, Olivia.”
“I’m Owen. I live next door. Welcome to the neighborhood,” I say, offering a wry smile.
She nods, but there’s a guardedness in her eyes now. She pulls the little girl close, like she’s bracing for judgment.
I turn to the officer. “Any chance you can get into her car?”
He looks offended at my audacity. “No can do.”
“At least call a locksmith,” I say. “We can’t tear these boards up right now.”
He hesitates, then sighs. “I’ll call. But with this weather it’s going to be a while.”
It’s clear he doesn’t plan to wait.
“It’s pouring, she’s not going anywhere, and we’re neighbors now. If there’s a problem, I’ll call it in. Sound fair?”
The cop eyes me, then her. “Fine. But keep an eye out.”
He heads back to his cruiser, leaving us alone. A moment of silence stretches between us.
Even soaking wet and covered in goosebumps, she’s striking. Her delicate features, fierce eyes, and natural elegance despite the circumstances create kind of presence that makes it hard to look away.
No ring.
Not that I’m looking.
Okay, I’m definitely looking.
But the last thing I need is a single, gorgeous woman living next door, upending the fragile balance I’ve managed to claw together since Emily and I split up.
Ivy exhales, pushing wet hair out of her face. “This is not how I imagined meeting my neighbors.”
“Me neither. But I’m glad you’re not a burglar. My daughter is about your age,” I say to the little girl.
Ivy cocks her head, narrowing her eyes at me. “You have a daughter?”
“Yes. Her name is Hannah. She’s going into fourth grade.”
Olivia wipes her eyes and smiles, showing a mouthful of missing teeth. “I’m starting third.”
“That’s wonderful. Hannah will be so excited to meet you.”
“Can I meet her now?” Olivia asks, her big eyes bright with hope.
“Sorry,” I say regretfully. “She’s about to start a lesson. Then we have dinner, reading hour, and an early bedtime tonight.”
“Sounds like you run a tight ship,” Ivy says.
I’m not sure if it’s an insult or a compliment. “I hope the locksmith gets here soon. If you need anything, I’m not too far away.”
“Thanks.” Ivy ushers Olivia inside, then turns to me. “I appreciate you vouching for me with the cops. I promise I’m who I say I am.”
I study her face, feeling that spark of familiarity burst again. “I believe you.”
She waves goodbye and closes the door.
The rain is still pounding down as I dash across the street. Something nags at the back of my mind. A worry. A spark. I can’t pin it down.
Ivy is a distraction I don’t need. I’ve got everything buttoned up in my life. And Ivy’s right about one thing: I run a very tight ship.
I unlock the door and slip into the house, avoiding the front room where Hannah is having her lesson.
Despite my umbrella, I’m soaked. I hurry up the stairs to my room. As I pass Hannah’s room, I see her full laundry basket on the floor.
Dad duty never ends, and I may as well get a load of laundry going before starting on dinner.
I freeze when my gaze lands on the giant poster over Hannah’s bed.
It’s a brightly colored print of an all-girl band from a decade ago.
The front woman, who is no more than a teenager, is dressed in a cropped top and mini skirt.
Her blonde hair is tipped with pink edges, and her big blue eyes are outlined in dark liner.
She stands in front of a keyboard, her mouth open as she belts out a song.
My breath catches, and recognition strikes like a bolt of lightning.
It’s Ivy.
My new neighbor is Ivy Ice, the pop star who fell off the radar ten years ago.