And then, the scariest few hours of my life happened. I thought I’d been through some rough stuff up until then. And while I’m not proud of how I got the money, I have the means to replace what we lost. We have insurance. I have a little nest egg. And pretty darn soon, Junie and I might actually have our own house.

  The extended-stay hotel the insurance company put us up in is comfortable, and Aunt Sassy has visited us every day—in fact, she’s pestered me to stay with her while we get through this whole mess. But my aunt has a small one-bedroom unit.

  She’s in her sixties and still working on her feet as a waitress. She has a great life, but she’s done a lot already, and just welcoming me and Juniper into her life is generous enough.

  Junie is playing on a brand-new playmat on the floor of the bedroom we’ve been sharing in the hotel while I flip between images of houses on my phone and the local community college catalogue.

  Ever since the fire, Vito Bianchi has been texting me every day he’s not working to check in on me and Juniper. It’s sweet and very chill.

  I never get the sense that he’s flirting, not that I’d mind if he did. I never really thanked him for being so kind to me the night of the fire. It was all such a shock. I didn’t realize he was a firefighter, so I had the hardest time in the moment recognizing who he was.

  But since that night, I have to be honest, I think about handsome Vito Bianchi—and I think about him a lot. Too much.

  And ever since I moved to Star Falls, I’ve been thinking about what comes next. I have ten years of guaranteed income and some money set aside for Junie’s education, but the reality is, time is going to pass, and I’m going to need a career.

  I can’t imagine spending ten years out of the workforce to raise my daughter as a single mom is going to make for a really impressive future résumé.

  “What should we do today, Junebug?” While my daughter chews on a plastic spatula, I hold up one finger on my right hand. “Junie,” I say, trying to get her to follow the numbers. “One means we go to college and check out the campus.” Then I hold up two fingers on my left hand. “And two means we go shopping for a new house.”

  I smile at her and hold up both hands. “One or two, Junie? One or two?” I hold up the corresponding fingers to help reinforce the numbers while I let my sweet girl pick our plan for the day.

  Junie climbs up onto her bare feet and reaches one hand toward my right hand and the other toward my left. “One, two,” she laughs.

  I pick her up and cuddle her close. She smells sweet and fresh, her soft brown curls silky against my cheeks. I smooch her and blow ticklish raspberries against her neck.

  “You want it all, huh? One and two.”

  She laughs hard and kicks her feet, so I put her down and she drops to the playmat to grab a toy.

  I check the time. It’s only half past nine in the morning. We have no insurance calls to make, no clothes or furniture to replace. We have the whole day ahead of us, and I am hell-bent on making my future in Star Falls a lot better than the first couple of weeks have been.

  “So, it’s settled,” I say. “Let’s do both.”

  I call a local real estate agent and inquire about a few properties. Once I get through to someone and share the properties I saw online, a nice woman named Taylor agrees to call me back as soon as she can set up viewings.

  “I might not be able to set them all up today,” she warns. “But I believe at least two of the properties have lockboxes, so with some notice, we should be able to get inside.”

  Taylor takes some information from me, including my name, current address, and my driver’s license number. I’m a little hesitant to give that out over the phone, but then she explains it’s a safety precaution they put in place for the agent’s sake.

  “We’d like you to take a picture of your license and text that to this number,” she tells me. “Along with the names and ages of all the people who will be attending the walk-through.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Okay. How soon do I need to get you that information?”

  “An hour before the first showing, I’ll check the system and make sure we have everything we need. So, the sooner you can get that over, the better. But at the latest, one hour before we actually plan to meet. Of course, we don’t have firm plans now, so if you can get things to me this morning, we should be good to go as soon as I have time slots confirmed.”

  “I can do that,” I tell her. “The only thing I’m not sure about is the age of one of the people in my party.” A slow smile spreads over my face. “I mean, I need to confirm that he’s even available. I am new to town, and I only have a few local friends.”

  “How sweet, Eden. Where did you move here from?”

  I give her the standard song and dance. Moved from LA, single mama, one-year-old baby.

  She asks me the usual questions—did I ever see anyone famous, is LA traffic as bad as they say, do I miss the weather?

  I did, in fact, see many famous people—it was part of my job. But since those so-called celebrities were also my undoing, I give my standard answer to that question too. “I once sat in a booth at a diner behind Keanu Reeves.”

  That’s actually true. I did, so I don’t have to embellish too much for that story.

  After I answer all Taylor’s questions—yes, in person, he looks exactly like he does in movies, and no, I didn’t speak to him. Yes, he seemed really, really nice. I confirm that yes, LA traffic is the worst, and yes, I do miss the weather a little.

  “But I really love the seasons,” I explain. “I’m enjoying having a real fall here in the Midwest.”

  After we’ve exhausted her questions, she reminds me to send over my license and the names, and she promises to send over a time as soon as she’s set up some showings.

  Before I send over my driver’s license, I grab my phone and hover a finger over the text messages. I pull up one hunky firefighter’s number, and before I can talk myself out of it, I send off a text.

  Me: Weird question. Two, actually. How old are you, and are you off work today by any chance?

  My heart thumps against my ribs, and I start grinning like an idiot. Is he going to think I’m too forward?

  As the minutes pass by and I don’t get any answers, I start to spiral into embarrassment.

  I’m an idiot. I should text him back and say never mind. Just then, my phone chirps with a text alert.

  Vito: I’m thirty-four, and I’m free as a bird. Off until Sunday. Whatcha got?

  My palm starts sweating, and my cheeks heat.

  Me: I don’t want to lure you in under false pretenses, but could I hire you as an informal fire safety inspector? Payment is lunch at the restaurant of your choice as long as it’s kid-friendly.

  He responds this time in seconds.

  Vito: You said my two favorite words. Fire and food. But I am curious why you need my age. I’m not going to pass for under twelve if you’re going for a kid’s meal discount.

  I shake my head and stifle a small giggle while a little tiny spark of excitement blooms in my chest.

  Me: I must disclose the names and ages of anyone I want to take on a house showing today. I called a real estate agent. Hence the need for someone who might help me not rent another deathtrap of a house. Maybe this time, I’ll buy, but I’d love a hand inspecting things that I never knew existed. Like fan vents…

  He sends back a crying laughing emoji and a thumbs-up emoji.

  Vito: Let me know where and when. But do me one favor?

  I send back just a simple question mark.

  Vito: Maybe don’t give Juniper OJ in the car…

  I full-body laugh at that and send back a long line of cracking up and mind-blown emojis. Then I drop the phone and take a picture of the front and back of my newly minted Ohio license and text it to Taylor along with our names: Eden Byrne, 26, Juniper Byrne, 14 months, and Vito Bianchi, 34.

  Seeing our names together like that makes us look like a little family. I shut down the thoughts before they can even take hold.

  “No boys, Junebug.” I drop down onto the playmat and pretend to cook up an over-easy plastic egg on a little blue skillet. “No boys, no dating. Just friends.”

  She mouths something that sounds like, “Nahlalaha mends,” and I give her a high five.

  I can’t pretend, though, that I’m not looking forward to meeting my hot new friend later today. Sigh. Maybe my closed-down heart isn’t as shut off as I’d thought.

  Let’s just hope, this time, I don’t get burned.

  Vito arrives at the hotel where I’m staying a full thirty minutes earlier than I’d asked. He asked if we could go over some stuff before we look at any houses, and I agreed.

  When I open the door of my hotel room, he’s looking freshly showered and hotter than I remember. He’s wearing blue jeans, bright-blue running shoes, and a tight black T-shirt. It’s a gorgeous fall day, but both Junie and I are dressed in layers in case it gets too warm or too cool. Vito’s got his arms out to hug me, and with his hair slicked back, sunglasses over his eyes, and a sexy grin on his face, it takes everything inside me to stop myself from knocking him over and wrapping my legs around his waist.

  He’s just a friend, I remind myself.

  I lean in for a chaste hug, pat him on the back, and then hurriedly pull away before his cologne or his soap or whatever fucking erotic scent I sniffed in that two-second hug becomes my undoing.

  Damn my libido. She’s a clueless bitch. She never learns.

  “Eden, hey.”

  “Uh, come on in,” I say. I walk away from him and the open door and wave my hand toward the table and chairs in the little kitchenette. “Want to sit?”

  “Shit,” he says, but then he covers his mouth, points at Junie, and mouths, “Sorry. I mean, oh shoot.”

  I grin at him and shake my head. “It’s all right. As hard as I try to keep the language clean, I wouldn’t be surprised if this one can spell the F word before preschool.”

  “That would be impressive.” Vito jerks a hand toward the parking lot. “Ma sent over some food. She will kill me if I let it go bad. Be right back.” He dashes away, closing the hotel door behind him.

  Once he’s gone, I heave a huge sigh. God, he’s gorgeous. Adorable. Hot. Sweet. How on earth is this man single?

  That’s when it hits me.

  He lives at home with his mother and father. He’s, like, really old not to have his own place. My tummy clenches as I think of all the things that are probably weird and broken about him. Maybe he’s bad with money and in debt up to his eyeballs. Maybe he’s irresponsible or can’t cook. He has one dress shirt, for God’s sake.

  I square my shoulders and take a deep breath. This isn’t a date. This is a new friendship. And anytime my instincts start looking for anything more, I’ll just remember that he’s probably a mama’s boy with terrible habits who would make the world’s worst partner, lover, husband. That’ll keep me from going into overdrive.

  “Knock, knock.”

  I hear his voice call through the door as he raps lightly. I let him in again, but this time, I step back so there’s no chance for a second awkward hug. Besides, there’s no room to get close to him. He’s carrying a brown cardboard box that looks like it weighs twenty pounds.

  “What on earth is all this?” I ask.

  Vito laughs and lifts a brow at me. “Lunch, dinner, and a hell of a lot of snacks.” He sets the box down on the small kitchen table and points to it. “Leave that here. I need to do something first.” He looks around the small living room, squinting dramatically. He seems to make eye contact with Juniper but then looks away. He cups his hands around his eyes and squints, then calls out in a loud voice, “Juniper? Juniper? Are you here?”

  He strides into the kitchen and opens the dishwasher, then pretends to call into the racks. “Juniper. Juniper?”

  While he wanders the extremely small living space of the hotel suite, Juniper lies with her face on the couch cushion and just blinks at this silly goof of a man.

  He’s playing a game with her that probably every child knows, but it strikes me in a really deep place. Nathan’s never met his daughter. Wanted her gone before she even existed. And this man who’s met her once is already playing with her and giving her his time and attention.

  I shake my head to clear the confusing feelings and remind myself he’s probably a man-child. Don’t believe everything you see, I tell myself. He’s a gnome. A mama’s boy.

  “There she is.” Vito says, clapping and dropping to his knees. He points to Juniper once he’s on her level and waves. “Hiya, kiddo. Remember me? I’m your mama’s friend, Vito. Vito,” he says again slowly.

  “Veeloo,” she echoes, a dribble of drool spilling past her lips.

  I grab a cloth diaper from her go bag and blot her lips. “Vito, baby,” I say, enunciating the T. “Can you say hi?”

  She holds out her arms to Vito, and I cock my chin at him. “Is this cool?”

  “More than cool,” he says. He picks up Juniper, gives her a quick hug, and then sets her on the floor. “I’m going to put some food away, but then maybe we’ll have some time to play?”

  She waddles after him like one of the children enchanted by the Pied Piper. But I’m no better. I’m in a daze for this man as much as my daughter is. We stand in the kitchen holding hands while we watch Vito get to work.

  “It’s good you’ve got all the amenities here,” he says as he unloads plastic containers with labels on the lids into the fridge. “Full-sized appliances. So much better than those dorm-sized jobs most hotels give you.” Once he’s done, he turns the cardboard over, strips the tape from it, and breaks the box down flat. “You got recycling here? I can take this back to my parents’ if you don’t know.”

  I watch him make himself at home in my little space and can’t quite explain what I’m feeling. In all the time I was with Nathan, he came to my place hundreds of times. We ate out, brought home leftovers, and he never once so much as remembered to bring leftovers in from the car, let alone put anything in my fridge. He wouldn’t even help himself to a glass of water.

  To be fair, he never stayed more than a couple of hours. Never a whole night. But I don’t know how to feel about Vito showing up and just being so at ease.

  It’s like he’s comfortable in my life and with me, and there’s nothing new or awkward about this.

  But he doesn’t give me a lot of time to process or think.

  As if he read my thoughts, he opens a cabinet, grabs a drinking glass, and helps himself to a glass of water from the tap. “You want something?” he asks, as though proving he is the opposite of the kind of man I’ve known before. He might as well be named Not Nathan.

  “No. I’m good, thanks,” I manage, picking up my daughter and holding her close. I don’t like to use her to comfort me, but I could go for a little comfort. But Junie knows what she wants, and she is excited about her new friend.

  She wiggles out of my arms and toddles over to Vito before grabbing on to the leg of his jeans.

  He sips the water, then sets the glass on the counter. “All right, ladies. What do we got?”

  He’s looking at me expectantly, and I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about. I’m struck speechless by the fact that he’s come into my hotel room, made himself at home, and now, he’s picked up my daughter and is bouncing her on his hip.

  “Eden?” he asks, giving me a confused look. “Everything all right?”

  “How are you so good at this?” I ask, not even trying to mask the sound of my confusion.

  “Kids?” he asks, sounding equally surprised. “I’m one of four kids, and in the last two years, I’ve become an uncle to four kids.”

  I nod. “Yeah, I remember, but a lot of people have siblings and kids in their family. You’re, like, really good at this.”

  “It’s in the genes,” he says, his voice low. “I come by it naturally. I love kids. Love people, honestly. I’m easygoing. You have to be when you’re a Bianchi.” He grows quiet for a moment, as if he’s thinking. “Have you been around a lot of people who are not good at this?”

  I swallow hard and murmur, “Yeah. You could say that.”

  Vito taps Junie on the nose and grins big at both of us. “Well, ladies, you’re in for a treat today.”

  5

  Vito

  Eden pulls out some toys to keep Juniper entertained while we sit knee-to-knee at her kitchen table poring over the listings on her phone.

  “So, the agent sent me six,” she says. She’s leaning toward me, holding her phone in one hand, but it takes all my concentration to look at the pictures and not at the generous amount of cleavage I can see when she leans closer to me.

  Eden Byrne is gorgeous. Her hair is long, and the loose curls practically float over her shoulders. Her eyes are a perfect shade of coffee brown.

  Every time she leans closer, I catch a whiff of something light but so elegant. She smells expensive, like the luxury spas Michelle used to treat herself to. What I can’t figure out is this girl’s story.

  “I really like these,” she says, flipping the display to reveal a couple of houses that would be way out of my price range. “But then, Taylor sent over this one too. It looks older, but it’s the cheapest on the list, so I thought it would be worth seeing.”

  “Oh fuck,” I say before I can stop myself. I look toward Juniper, but she seems engrossed in her magnets. “Sorry about that.”

  “What is it?” she asks. “Something about this house? Was there a fire or something?”

  I shake my head and take the phone from her hands, letting my fingertips just graze hers. Heat flows from her hand through my body, and I’m suddenly feeling about ten degrees hotter.

  “No fire,” I explain. I zoom into the listing to confirm the address. “I know this house.” A little sadness jerks at my chest just looking at the place. “I haven’t been there in a while,” I say. I hand the phone to her. “My ex-wife’s grandfather lives there. I hear he’s been moved into a memory care facility across town. They must be selling the house.”