Wrapped Up in You - Jill Shalvis Page 0,1

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.

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, her two biggest meals. After that, her part-time helper, Jenny, came in the afternoons to handle the much thinner dinner crowd and closing. 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. “Sorry, guys, not open for another twenty minutes.”

Jake returned her flirty smile from his wheelchair while upping it another factor, which she knew was just a ploy to get his way.

“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, and was a friend of Ivy’s, and also a savior as he’d helped her navigate the purchase of her truck when dealing with the previous owner had gotten tricky. “I’m pretty sure you said you owed me a favor,” he reminded her, 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. But having gotten his way as he always did, he smiled. “The usual for me.”

“Me too,” Jake said.

Ivy nodded