Liv moved the basket of eggs to her other hand and started back toward the farmhouse. Her breath formed white puffs around her face in the chilly morning air. Even in Tennessee, it could get cold on an April morning. Rosie lived on twenty acres a half hour outside the city in what had once been nothing but farmland but now skirted the edges of strip malls and suburban chain stores.

Rosie shook her head and started muttering again as she walked out of the cellar. “Still can’t believe we’re fighting this shit. Marched my ass off in the seventies so your generation wouldn’t have to deal with pricks like that.”

Liv followed Rosie into the main house through the back door. It led to a mudroom with an ancient washer and dryer set, a pile of rubber boots covered in chicken poop and other farm gunk, and a line of hooks where they hung up their coats and hats. Rosie had knit each of them. She was on a knitting streak lately. Said she needed a hobby to keep from losing her mind over the news. Every hen now had a sweater to wear when the weather got really cold. Which wasn’t as crazy as it sounded. Rosie subscribed to a backyard chicken magazine, and hen sweaters were a thing among the crazy-chicken-lady set.

Rosie kept muttering to herself as she made her way into the kitchen to start breakfast. Liv helped cook whenever she was home, though Rosie always told her she didn’t have to. I pay you to tend to the animals and the garden, not cook. Liv didn’t know how to tell her—or maybe was just too embarrassed to tell her—that she liked it. Cooking with Rosie reminded her of the years she and Thea had lived with their grandma. Gran Gran’s kitchen was where she’d discovered her love of cooking. Some of her best memories were of Gran Gran, Thea, and her making dinner together as Gran Gran told stories and imparted sage bits of wisdom. Those years were the only time in her life when she’d felt like she and Thea had a real family.

The bang of the back door interrupted her, followed by a loud belch. Moments later, Earl Hopkins wandered in.

Hop, as he went by, was a part-time farmhand who was madly in love with Rosie, and either Rosie had no idea or maybe she just didn’t care, because no two people could be more opposite. He was a Vietnam veteran who liked to drink beer and rant about the liberal media, and she was an avowed hippy who’d once protested the war and now watched Rachel Maddow at top volume every night.

“Start a fire, will ya?” Rosie said, pretending not to watch Hop’s butt as he walked into the living room and squatted in front of the fireplace.

“Quit ordering me around,” he griped.

“If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to find breakfast somewhere else.”

“I’m probably better off. You’re going to poison me one of these days.”

Liv scooped the onions into a neat pile and then dumped the peelings into a bowl that Rosie would take out to the goats later. They wouldn’t be thrilled, but they’d eat it. They’d eat anything. Cabbage day was definitely their favorite. Wait, no, second-favorite. The best day was when Rosie made them fresh biscuits.

Jesus, this was her life now. She knew the eating habits of chickens and goats. Liv groaned and dropped her forehead to the island and banged it twice.

“What’d I miss?” Hop asked, wheezing slightly as he came back into the kitchen.

“Livvie got fired last night.”

Hop patted her on the shoulder. “Finally told him where he could stick his spatula, huh?”

Liv laughed. “I wish.”

Rosie spun away from the sink, knife pointed like a weapon. “I’ll tell you what happened. She caught him sexually harassing a young college girl, and he fired her for it. Just like a typical man.”

“Spoken like a typical feminist,” Hop snorted.

Liv sighed heavily and shook her head. This fight was going to be a long one. She removed the knife from Rosie’s hand. “I’ll finish the potatoes.”

Rosie swatted her hand away. “You go on up to your room and relax. I’ll bring you some food when it’s ready.”

Liv considered protesting, but Rosie and Hop had settled into a hearty argument. She was too exhausted to play referee. She slipped out the back door and headed toward the garage. A staircase in the back of the building led to her apartment, which was cozy but small. The door opened into an eat-in kitchen that faced a small living room. A single hallway led to her bedroom on one side and the bathroom on the other. It smelled faintly of dust from the garage below, but she could usually mask it with a couple of well-placed candles.

Liv sat down at her small kitchen table and turned on her laptop. She’d lied when she’d told Thea she’d already done this, and she had officially put this off too long. She needed to crunch some numbers. She logged into her bank account and did some quick math.

After ten minutes of holding her breath, Liv realized she had enough in savings to last three months without a paycheck. Would it take that long to find another job? Would she be able to find another job? And if she did, would it be in Nashville? She didn’t want to leave. Thea and Gavin and their twins were there. And Rosie was basically a grandmother to her.

What if Royce really did try to ruin her in the restaurant scene? Now that she’d seen him in action, he knew she was a threat to him, so he probably would make good on his threat to make sure she never got another job. A man who would sexually harass an employee would think nothing of ruining someone’s career to protect his dirty little secret.

If it even was much of a secret. How many women had he done this to? How many women had he harassed or fired to cover it up? How many people had helped him?

Part of her wanted to scream it’s not fair! But nothing in her life had been very fair, and whining about it hadn’t ever done much for her.

Maybe she was being stupid. Maybe she should just give in and take Thea up on her offer and open her own damn restaurant and be thankful that her sister was willing to get her started. But money had a way of changing things between people. It had a way of corrupting. She didn’t want that hanging between her and her sister. Thea was too important to her.

When Rosie knocked on the door, Liv jumped up and let her in. Rosie walked in balancing a tray. “Brought you an omelet and some toast.”

Liv stretched her arms over her head. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Rosie set it on the table and then pointed a finger at Liv. “Now you listen to me. I know you, so I know you’re sitting here worried about how you’re going to pay your rent and all that shit, so just stop. I don’t care about that.”

“Rosie, I can’t live here rent-free.”

“You can if I say you can.”

Liv swallowed against a surge of emotion. “All I want you to do is decide what you’re going to do about that bastard and to protect that girl,” Rosie said.

“I don’t think she wants my protection.”

“Then you’ll just have to convince her, won’t you?”

Liv wandered to the window to stare at the farmland outside. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Get her out of there, Livvie. Whatever it takes, just get her out of there.”

CHAPTER SIX

Two days later, Liv pulled her Jeep into an open parking space along the curb in front of the ToeBeans Cat Café, the coffee shop and bakery owned by her friend Alexis.

Alexis was the only person on Earth who hated Royce as much as Liv, which was probably why they’d bonded so quickly during the brief time when they’d worked at Savoy together.

Alexis had been there for almost two years when Liv started, but she’d left within a couple of months to care for her sick mom. She and Liv remained friends, though, and after her mom passed away, Liv helped her pursue her lifelong dream of opening her own place—a dream they both shared.

Judging by the line of people waiting to order when Liv walked in, business was good. Of course, it was Tuesday, and Tuesdays were always busy for Alexis, because that was the day when a local cat rescue brought in cats and kittens who were looking for homes. Alexis had a soft spot for lost things and lonely creatures.

Which was another reason she was the only logical person for Liv to turn to for help. She’d never turn Jessica away. If Alexis agreed to hire her, then Jessica would have no reason to stay at Savoy.

Liv sidestepped the back of the line. Alexis spotted her and lifted her hand in an enthusiastic wave, sending the knot of curls on top of her head into a bouncy dance. She spread her fingers wide and mouthed, Five minutes?

Liv pointed to the swinging door that led the kitchen. Alexis nodded and returned her attention to the customer in front of her. The small kitchen was bright and clean, with white subway tiles along the walls and open shelves displaying plates and bowls in rainbow colors. A single cook maneuvered feverishly between a grill and a stainless-steel counter where he assembled plates of sandwiches, salads, and pastries. He barely spared Liv a glance when she walked in. She understood. When the heat was literally on in the kitchen, there was no time for politeness.

Liv ducked out of his way and wandered to the back, where a tray of fresh scones was cooling on top of a range. They smelled like a cozy Saturday morning and a warm blanket. Liv’s stomach grumbled instinctively.

“Lemon and lavender,” Alexis explained, coming up behind her. “I’m not sure if the flavor is right yet, though. Will you taste one and let me know what you think?”

Liv picked one up and took a bite. The pastry melted on her tongue. “It’s perfect,” she breathed, wiping a crumb off her lip.

Alexis smiled in relief. “You’re sure? This is my fourth attempt.”

Liv took another bite and nodded. “Definitely put this on the menu.”

“If they have your stamp of approval, then it’s done.” Alexis untied her apron and hung it on a hook by the tiny office in the back corner. “Can you sit for a few minutes? Are you on your way to work or something? How’s Riya? You have to tell me about the plans for the cookbook release. Is Royce driving everyone crazy?”

Liv tried to keep up with Alexis’s typically frenetic rapid-fire questions as her friend opened the door to her office.