From the photos he’d seen of the place, he knew that’s where he’d need to do the most work, so he might as well take a look.

  He was about to hit the light switch when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Something was headed toward him, and he caught whatever it was in mid swing, his heart pumping triple time as he figured he was about to get blasted on the head by a tire iron or something equally skull smashing. In what felt like hours but in reality was probably only a few seconds, he had the offending weapon in one hand and the intruder wrapped around him in the other.

  “Hey, hold on there,” he said, realizing whoever it was trying to kill him was a lot smaller than him. And lighter, since he’d grabbed his or her arm and their weapon, which was a . . .

  Cast-iron skillet?

  He held the squirming burglar against his chest and leaned back to fumble around the wall for the light switch. He hit the switch with his elbow, which bathed the kitchen with light.

  Okay, this was unexpected. He quickly let go of the intruder, and they made a hasty retreat to the other side of the room.

  Linc had figured maybe a teen, or a small man. But never in a million years did he figure he’d come face-to-face with a gorgeous woman dressed only in a T-shirt and underwear, along with several glaring sets of eyes directed at him. He quickly counted—

  Five dogs. And they hadn’t even barked.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” he asked. “What are you doing in here?”

  She tugged the T-shirt over her flowered cotton panties. “I think I should be the one asking the questions here, since you just broke in.”

  He shook his head. “No, I own this place.”

  “You do not. I’m friends with the owner.”

  “You mean the former owner. I closed on this house three days ago.”

  She frowned. “Prove it.”

  He frowned. “You prove it. Who’s the owner of this place?” He wasn’t about to give her a lead.

  “Ginger and Greg—”

  “Powell,” he finished for her.

  Her eyes widened. “They sold the house?”

  “Yeah.”

  She lifted her chin, a defiant look on her face. “I don’t believe you.”

  Now that his heart rate had come down to a more manageable level, he could think a little more clearly. And since whoever this woman was seemed to know the former owners, she was likely scared, too. Which was so not his problem since she was the one squatting in his house. “You should call her. Now.”

  She grabbed her phone off the corner of the peninsula while she eyed him warily. She pressed a button and waited.

  “Ginger. It’s Hazel. I’m at your house and some guy just came in and said he bought the place.”

  She listened, still staring at him.

  “It’s okay. I just didn’t know. I would have left if I’d known.”

  She listened some more.

  “I’m fine, honestly. Nothing happened other than both of us scaring the hell out of each other.”

  Then she laughed, and it was such an amazing sound. Light and easy.

  He didn’t care how she sounded. Why would he care? His first objective needed to be getting her the hell out of there.

  “Yeah, I don’t think either of us would want to see pics of what just happened. But we’re both okay. No harm, no foul.”

  Linc motioned to her. “Mind if I have the phone for a second?”

  She hesitated. “Uh, Ginger? He wants to talk to you.”

  She listened, then gave him the phone. He put it on speaker and laid it on the counter. “Hey, Ginger, how’s it going?”

  “Linc. I am so embarrassed. For some reason I had it down that you weren’t coming in until next month. And then with our move and everything going on, I totally spaced and forgot to tell Hazel that the house had sold. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry to both of you for this.”

  Linc looked over at the woman, who still had her arms wrapped around herself but seemed a lot less terrified than she had a few minutes ago.

  “Hey, it’s okay. We both survived the scare. Is Greg there?”

  “Oh, he’s here, trying not to laugh.”

  “I wasn’t laughing,” Greg said. “Glad you didn’t get arrested, bud.”

  He saw Hazel cock her head to the side. “Greg and I know each other.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “I’m so sorry, Hazel,” Ginger said.

  “Me, too,” Greg said. “But it’s still Ginger’s fault.”

  “Hey, you could have called Hazel, too,” Ginger said.

  “I could have. My bad.”

  “It’s all good,” Hazel said. “Love you guys.”

  “I’ll call you after this project, Greg,” Linc said, “and we’ll get together for a round.”

  “You got it,” Greg said.

  Hazel clicked off. “Okay, apparently you’re legit. Ginger didn’t tell me. She told me she’d let me know when they accepted an offer so I could clear out before the new owner arrived. I guess that’s you.”

  “And I guess you’re not a burglar.”

  She slanted a look at him. “Do I look like a burglar?”

  He gave her the once-over, from her wildly tousled dark hair to her tanned bare legs. “Not any burglar I could ever imagine.”

  “Do you mind if I put some pants on before we continue this conversation?”

  Actually, he did mind. She had amazing legs. “Sure, go ahead. And while you’re at it, you can pack up whatever things you have so you can leave.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, right. Sure. I can do that. Sorry.”

  The look on her face was one of utter dejection. Linc would not feel sorry for her. She wasn’t his responsibility, and he had things to do to this house that did not include a woman and five dogs.

  “Come on, babies,” she said, and just like that, her dog entourage followed behind, but he could swear that little beige Chihuahua gave him a dirty look before leaving the room.

  Finally, Linc had a chance to exhale. And put the skillet on the stove.

  The woman—Hazel—was talking upstairs. He should follow and make sure she didn’t do any damage. And while she might be friends of Ginger and Greg, she wasn’t his friend. In fact, he didn’t know her at all. He’d known of squatters who kicked in drywall or did any number of things to screw up property before running off. He had his investment to protect, so he quietly made his way up the steps, stopping in the hallway when he heard the sound of her voice just inside the bedroom.

  “It’s okay, babies,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “We’ll figure something out. We always do, don’t we?”

  He peeked his head inside the door to see a blow-up mattress and an oversize backpack. Was that all she had? She’d put on a pair of shorts and wound her long, dark hair into a bun on top of her head.

  “I promise I’ll take care of you. You won’t be homeless. We won’t be homeless. I’ll make this work. Somehow.” The pit bull came over and laid his head on her thigh, and Hazel dropped her head to her chest and her body shook.

  Dammit. She was crying. Linc turned away and made his way back downstairs.

  This—she—was not his problem. He didn’t even know her.

  Hazel came downstairs a short time later, her eyes swollen and red rimmed, but she had a smile on her face. The dogs all followed her, then sat at her feet like little statues.

  Weird little fuckers.

  All she had was the remnants of that mattress and a couple of bags. Was that all she owned?

  “I’m really sorry about nearly crushing your skull with the skillet. We’ll get out of your way now. I have a chair outside—oh, and my skillet. I’ll just put these in the car and be on my way.”

  She headed toward the front door, the dogs following. It was the most pitiful entourage Linc had ever seen.

  Fuck.

  “Wait,” he said.

  She stopped and turned to look at him.

  “It’s late and you obviously don’t have anywhere to go. You can stay in the guesthouse for a day or two until you figure something out.”

  Her eyes lit up like bright round diamonds. “Really? Oh my God, thank you so much. I’m Hazel Bristow, by the way.” She held out her hand, so he did the same.

  “Lincoln Kennedy.”

  She gave him a look. “That’s very . . . historical.”

  “I go by Linc. And my mother’s a history teacher. She named all of us after historical figures.”

  “All of you. So you have siblings.”

  “Two brothers.”

  “I see. So you’re moving in?”

  “Sort of. I mean, not really. I’m renovating this place.”

  She frowned. “Why? What’s wrong with it? It’s a great house.”

  “It needs some updating before I sell it.”

  “Oh.” She chewed on her lower lip for a beat. “So you’re one of those people.”

  The way she said that told him she wasn’t a fan of his livelihood. “You mean people who invest in homes, fix them up and make them better, then sell them and improve the neighborhood?”

  He didn’t miss her derisive snort. “Yeah. House flippers. You come in, do some cheap modifications so you can make a quick profit, then turn around and sell and then you’re off to the next house.”

  “Well, when you say it like that it does sound bad. But that’s not what I do.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure.”

  “And what do you do, Hazel?”

  Her gaze shifted down to her dogs. “I foster dogs.”

  “Is that what those are?”

  “Yes. Sort of. Mostly.”

  That was vague. “And you’re staying in an empty house because . . . ?”

  “It’s complicated. Say, are you hungry? I’m hungry. I was going to fix myself some dinner. Would you like something to eat?”

  She was avoiding the question, but he was hungry. “Sure.”

  “Awesome.”

  She seemed relieved not to answer the question about what she was doing staying at the house, but Linc supposed the answer to that question could wait.

  At least until after dinner.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Hazel was happy to have a reprieve from explaining her current circumstances to Linc. And deliriously relieved to not be out on the street with the pups. Also, she really was hungry, since she’d gotten distracted streaming a show on her iPad while folding laundry so she’d sort of forgotten about dinner. And then she’d heard a noise downstairs, so her hunger had been momentarily replaced by utter panic.

  Finding a shadowy figure in the kitchen had just about sent her on a dead run out the back door. She’d have done just that if it had only been her, but she had the pups to think about. She was so grateful they had been silent, one of the first commands she taught all new dogs she fostered, because no one liked barky dogs and she never knew where she was going to end up next.

  Linc sure was good-looking, she thought as she stirred the noodles in the boiling pot while she poured wine in the skillet that she’d almost used as a weapon to defend herself. It was a good thing Linc had sharp reflexes, because she’d been aiming for his head. Not that she could have hit him there, since he was very tall. He had a thick head of dark hair and some intense brown eyes. And one amazing ass that she was not looking at anymore, otherwise her shrimp were going to taste like Penelope’s squeaky toys.

  She drained the pasta, then poured the shrimp scampi over the top. She fixed up a basic Italian-style side salad with olives and tomatoes, along with an Italian vinaigrette dressing.

  “Sorry about the paper plates,” she said as she scooted a plate across the peninsula toward him. “I don’t have dishes. Or a table and chairs. But there are barstools.”

  She handed him a plastic fork.

  “Not a problem. This smells amazing.”

  “Thanks. I like to cook, and I went to the store today so it’s all fresh.”

  He dug into the food, and since she was hungry, so did she, only occasionally slanting surreptitious glances toward him. Since the dogs got their cues from her and she’d accepted him, they had as well, though as with all strangers, they kept their distance, preferring to monitor Linc from across the room.

  He finally looked up at her and smiled. “This is exceptional.”

  “You think so?”

  “Absolutely. You can more than cook, Hazel. I’ve had plenty of excellent food in my lifetime, and this is . . . perfection.”

  “Really?” She’d rarely gotten compliments on her cooking from her ex-husband, who had always mindlessly shoveled food in his mouth and then left the table without a word. So to get praise like this was a boon to her sorely battered ego.

  “I did forget to get bread. It’s much better with bread, but it’s too hot to make it in the oven right now.”

  He arched a perfect brow. “You make bread, too?”

  “When it’s a little cooler outside I can.”

  “Wow. Amazing.”

  When she finished the small plate she had made for herself, she leaned back on her barstool. “So, while you’re doing your fixer-upper thing, what do you eat?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes I’ll make a sandwich or whip up eggs for breakfast. Otherwise, I’ll find a local chef who can curate some meals for me and I’ll pay extra for that.”

  An idea immediately formed in her head. Then again, she didn’t really know him. Like at all.

  “How do you know Greg?”

  “We’ve worked together a few times, doing some investment projects.”

  “So he’d vouch for you. You know, confirm you’re not a serial killer.”

  He laughed. “Uh, yeah, I think so.”

  “Excuse me a second.”

  She disappeared and stepped outside, making yet another call to Ginger and Greg, who probably had second thoughts about their friendship with her. But Greg confirmed that Linc was a good guy and she had nothing to worry about, though Ginger asked why she wanted to know and if he’d done anything wrong. She assured her friend that he’d been a perfect gentleman and was even allowing her to stay for a few extra days. When Greg confirmed that was the Linc he knew, she felt immensely better.

  When she got off the phone, she had a plan formulated. Linc would probably never go for it, but it might buy her some time to figure things out. She pulled up to her spot at the peninsula and said, “You must burn a ton of calories while you’re doing your . . . your thing around here.”

  “You could say that.”

  “Wouldn’t it be great to have an on-call chef to cook for you?”

  He cocked his head to the side and studied her for a few seconds, then said, “Go ahead and tell me your idea.”

  She leaned forward. “Okay. Say the dogs and I stay here while you’re renovating. I promise you we are very good at not getting in the way. And while you’re working, I cook for you.”

  “You know I’m demolishing the kitchen, right?”

  She shrugged. “There’s a kitchenette in the guesthouse behind the pool. Has a mini stove and an oven. Plus there’s the grill out back. Trust me when I tell you that I am very resourceful when it comes to cooking.”

  “And in exchange, you’d only want the ability to crash here.”

  “Not exactly. I still have to take care of the dogs and I have other expenses, so I’d expect a minimal salary.”

  “We can discuss that. But first you tell me how you ended up here, in an empty house, with five dogs and no furniture.”

  Damn. She was hoping she wouldn’t have to reveal that part. “Fine. My ex-husband swindled me out of our house and all our money.”

  His eyes widened. “What? How did he manage that?”

  “Let’s just say I foolishly allowed him to handle our finances, and before I knew it, our bank accounts were empty, the house was double mortgaged, and there was nothing left. And then he filed for divorce and left the state.”

  His jaw dropped. “Wow. I’m sorry. That must have sucked.”

  “It did. We were a mess before that, but I guess I didn’t pull the divorce trigger fast enough. And I have no one to blame but myself for letting things go south like that. I should have been paying closer attention. It wasn’t like I didn’t see the signs. He’d always been a shady shithead, I just didn’t think he was that shady.”

  He stabbed a shrimp with his fork and pointed it at her. “People can hurt you more than you think.”

  “I guess so. Anyway, we lost the house to foreclosure, but by then he was long gone anyway and I was out of a place to live. I have a tiny bit of savings that I had in a separate account from money my grandmother left me after she died, so I rented a small house, but when the lease came up, the owners decided to sell, so I was out on the streets again. That’s when Ginger and Greg decided to move and said I could stay here for an interim period. And now here I am.”

  “Huh. You sure got screwed, didn’t you, Hazel?”

  She shrugged. “I learned a valuable lesson about trust and always keeping my eyes wide open.”

  “That’s a very good lesson to learn.” He picked up the plates and dumped them in the trash, then started to take the skillet to the sink.

  She slid off the barstool. “Oh no. Part of the cooking is the cleanup. I’m sure you have some unpacking to do.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely. Go on.”

  “Okay. Thanks again for dinner. It was amazing.”

  Her lips curved, and she couldn’t help the warmth in her cheeks over his compliment. “You’re welcome.”

  After he left, the dogs came over to sniff the area where they had eaten.

  “There isn’t a crumb in the vicinity, kids. Sorry. We ate it all.”