Finding Home
When unwished-for love lands on your doorstep, do you embrace it or bolt?
Bernie Pedersen has built a quiet life running her little pizza joint on the coast, far from the chaos of her runaway past. But when a frightened teenager shows up at her door, Bernie sees herself in the girl’s wary eyes—and vows to protect her at all costs.
Paul Gibson didn’t come to this weathered seaside town looking for love. A weary social worker on the verge of burnout, he’s focused on one thing: finding a missing teen. What he doesn’t expect is to collide with a fiery, redheaded business owner who challenges him at every turn—and makes him dream of roots he never thought he’d want.
Legally, Paul’s bound to send the girl back. But when the truth about her home life surfaces, he and Bernie must fight together for the child’s safety. The more they battle side by side, the harder it is to ignore the fire burning between them.
Now Paul faces an impossible choice: protect his job—or risk everything for the girl who needs them, and the woman who just might heal his soul.
~EXCERPT~
“Gladys?” Bernie came out wiping her hands on a towel. She smiled when she saw the white-haired woman wrapped in her usual layers of clothing. “I was wondering if I’d see you today. Want some pizza?”
“Nah. You gave me enough yesterday to feed me for a week. Thank you very much for that.” Gladys patted Bernie’s cheek. “I brought you a stray.”
Bernie leaned sideways to see behind Gladys. “A stray?”
“Yeah. You collect them, don’t you? Find them homes?”
“Stray animals, Gladys. Animals. Who’s this?”
“I don’t know. Found her rustling around outside your place. Didn’t look like she was up to much good.”
Bernie edged around the counter to stand in front of the girl. Young, maybe preteen by the look. Hard to tell through all that familiar dirt. Bernie sniffed. Been a while since the kid had bathed, too. She leaned in for a closer look and the girl yanked her head back.
“Don’t touch me.”
Warning bells jangled in Bernie’s head. She knew this defensive posture too well. Damn.
“What do you want to do with her?” Gladys asked, having sat in a nearby chair.
Bernie watched the girl for a long moment, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shuddering at memories she still couldn’t quell at the age of thirty-two. She should call Social Services and let them deal with the kid. That was the right thing to do. At least, that’s what the law said. She knew differently. The idea of sending those angry blue eyes off to some foster home didn’t sit well. Some were good. Some? Well, not so much. Bernie rubbed her churning stomach. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this. “Leave her with me, Gladys. I have an idea or two.”
“Whooeee.” Gladys turned to the girl. “You’re in trouble now. This one,”—she pointed at Bernie—“doesn’t take shit off anyone.”