Page 66 of Head Over Heels

Carefully covering the rest, I set the container on the counter and moved into the bathroom. The water heated up quickly, and as I shed my pajamas and stood under the spray, I let the gloriously hot water and perfect water pressure beat down on my shoulders until my skin was pink, my muscles putty.

With my robe wrapped around me, I took my time getting ready for the day—moisturizing my legs and arms with my favorite lotion, sliding on a light floaty mint green dress that belted around my waist with a thin gold chain. I braided my hair off my face, anchoring it at the nape of my neck before I swiped some mascara over my lashes, slicking a nude gloss over my lips and some blush over my cheeks.

There.

When I stood back and studied the mirror, I finally felt like me again.

Except my eyes.

Something about being in this place knocked loose a capstone piece of the wall I’d built when arriving in Sisters. Everything above it wobbled tremulously.

Hotel managers carefully packing my things.

Homemade muffins and cream in my coffee.

A soft bed with even softer sheets.

Men on motorcycles who showed up in the dark, just to make sure I was okay.

Big baskets filled with comforts of home.

Not my home, though. And never, ever delivered from the person who’d raised me.

I steeled my expression, practicing that chilled exterior that worked so well the first couple of days. But it felt heavier. Harder to hold in place.

So I let it drop with a sigh.

My phone rang, and I flipped it over, heart jolting with the possibility that it might be my dad.

Cameron Wilder. At the sight of his name, my heart jolted for an entirely different reason.

“This is Ivy,” I said.

“You answer that way even when you know who it is?”

There was a smile in that deep, smooth voice, and if I closed my eyes, I could picture it perfectly.

“Depends on who’s calling,” I told him airily. “This is a work phone call, no?”

“Oh, I suppose it is.”

Sure. Tell that to the way my belly rolled with fluttering nerves, just by hearing him talk directly into my ear.

“What can I do for you?” I asked, adjusting the belt on my dress.

“You sleep okay last night?”

“Is that your business now?”

He laughed. “Considering I delivered you to that very comfortable bed, I’m going to say yes.”

I sighed. Fair enough. “I slept just fine, thank you.”

“Good.” His voice deepened as he said it, and a chill slipped up and over my spine before I could stop it. “Are you able to come over here?”

My brows lowered. “What’s up?”

He paused, and I heard male voices in the background. “I think I found your ghost. But I’m going to need your help.”

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