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  For the Piper girls, returning to Spinning Hills, Ohio, is a chance to rebuild their lives. And in the process, each of them will welcome the promise of a whole new love . . .

  For Hope Piper—aka Heartless Hope—career is everything. Requesting a transfer from her tony California office back to the Dayton regional headquarters where she got her start is a sacrifice she would make only for her sisters. There are good reasons she left Spinning Hills behind years ago—and once she’s back, her subconscious mind decides to replay them, leading a sleepwalking Hope back to the scene of her young heartbreak. And as luck would have it, the man living in that house is currently her fiercest opponent . . . and a distractingly good-looking one.

  Matt Williams has one job—to keep industry in Ohio. When he learns that one of the region’s most important employers has secret plans to close their local headquarters, he takes action . . . and finds himself up against the woman who keeps showing up at his house in the middle of the night. In those moments, when Hope is grieving and vulnerable, Matt would give anything to ease her pain. But romance isn’t realistic for two people with completely different goals—unless working together gives them both the chance to vanquish ghosts, heal old wounds, and start living for love . . .

  Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Books by Inés Saint

  The Piper Sisters

  Good Gracie

  Perfect Paige

  The Spinning Hills Series

  Fixer-Upper

  Needs a Little TLC

  Flipped!

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Haunted Hope

  The Piper Sisters

  Inés Saint

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Books by Inés Saint

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Teaser chapter

  Meet the Author

  Lyrical Press books are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2017 by Inés Saint

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  LYRICAL PRESS Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  First Electronic Edition: September 2017

  eISBN-13: 978-1-60183-956-6

  eISBN-10: 1-60183-956-1

  ISBN: 978-1-6018-3956-5

  To my youngest son; I’m amazed at how strong and resilient you are.

  To my close family and friends, especially my husband and oldest child. The past few months were challenging and tough, and you understood and supported me/us. I’m forever grateful.

  And to Hobbit (the dog) for his unconditional, undemanding love. Nothing like writing with a supportive partner always at your feet.

  Acknowledgments

  A special thank-you to the truly amazing small-business entrepreneur Alissa C. for helping me flesh out my main characters. Breakfast with you was so much fun, and listening to your genuine interest in all the small businesses you meet with inspired my hero’s career. Everything we talked about, in one way or another, made its way into the pages of this book. I’m also grateful to you for sharing the “winning at yoga” story: It was just too funny to pass up! You’ll find a version of it in Chapter 4 (it also helped bring out a fun competitive streak in Hope!).

  Chapter 1

  Early May

  Matt Williams took off his safety glasses and blinked hard a few times, trying to get the dust out of his eyes. What had possessed him to think he could strip the place to the studs by himself in one weekend?

  He sighed, remembering. Two of his best friends, Marty Medina and Johnny Amador, had told him he’d never get it done by himself. Challenge accepted. And now there he was. It was half past one in the morning, he had an early meeting, and he was covered in sweat and dust and feeling dead tired. He also wasn’t warming up to the house. He’d bought it because it had great potential and the price had made it seem like a good investment, but it wasn’t growing on him the way he’d expected it to.

  A knock on the door made him look up and frown. Who in the world could be knocking at the door of a house nobody lived in at such an hour? His lips quirked when he remembered the little boy next door telling him he’d seen Bessie White, one of the town’s most famous ghosts, banging on his door a week back. The kid’s mom had told him the boy had a wild imagination.

  Matt walked to the window nearest to the door and peered out. A woman with wavy hair so black it was almost blue was standing at his door, wearing a billowy, bright white nightgown. A chill ran down his spine, and it said something about his foggy mind and bleary eyesight that for a split second, he wondered if the vision was a ghost.

  He shook his head and opened the door. The woman stared up at him. There was a dazed look to her eyes and Matt took a step back, in case she was high or drunk.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  The woman tilted her head to the side and said, “You don’t look like Derek. He couldn’t grow a beard. And you don’t sound like him either.” A few tears welled up in her bright blue eyes and rolled down her pale cheeks. “Where is he? Do you know?”

  Something about the profound sadness in her voice and the confusion in her eyes made Matt’s chest tighten. One moment, his heart was reaching out to her, the next, he was giving his head a quick shake, telling himself to be reasonable. Common sense kicked in, and he made a quick study of the woman to make she wasn’t holding anything that could be used as a weapon.

  Next, he stepped outside and shut the door behind him, not wanting to be alone with a woman who was obviously out of it. He looked around, to make sure the whole thing wasn’t some sort of sick prank, and then focused on the stranger. Her glassy-eyed stare was still fixed on him, as if she was waiting for an answer.

  “Uh—no, I don’t know where Derek is. But Ray Walker lives next door, and he knows everyone in town. I’ll give him a call and ask him to come over and help you.”

  The woman shook her head. “Sheriff Walker was no help. He never found him,” she said, her voice full of despair.

  Matt didn’t know what to say. He hated to wake his elderly neighbor up, but he had no choice. If the woman knew Walker, it stood to reason the retired, long-time sheriff knew her, too. “Let’s call him anyway. He can help us get you home.”

  The woman looked confused. “This is our home. But you’re not Derek.” Fresh tears ran down her face, and against his better judgment, Matt reached out and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. Maybe the woman had lived there at some point, and now that she was ill, she’d come back to a place she knew.

  “Don’t cry. We’ll figure this all out. I’m not Derek, but I want to help you. I promise. Why don’t you have a seat on that rocker while I call Sheriff Walker?”

  The woman nodded, and to Matt’s surprise, she waddled over to the rocker, holding her back and planting her legs wide as she sat down, as if she were pregnant. Maybe the nightgown was hiding something, but as far as Matt could see, the woman was either not pregnant, or not far along enough in her pregnancy to merit waddling. For the second time that night, Matt gave his confused head a shake. He made the call, and the groggy-sounding old man became instantly alert when Matt explained the situation. Walker assured him that he’d be right over.

  Matt sat down on the porch swing facing the woman. She was now rubbing her belly and singing “Somewhere over the Rainbow.” Her voice didn’t have much range, but it was sweet and melodious. When she was done, she looked over at him. “I remember now. We were going to buy the house and fix it up someday. Did we hire you? I get so tired sometimes, so tired of trying to figure out what’s wrong with Derek, that I forget things.”

  Afraid to upset her, Matt ran down a list of things he could say. He decided on, “The house was bought and it’s being fixed up, yes,” because it seemed like a safe answer. In his experience, sticking close to the truth was always best.

  A movement caught his eye then and he saw it was Ray Walker, sprinting awkwardly across the lawn in a short, silky, navy blue robe. When he climbed the porch steps and got a good look at the woman, the worry lines on his face cleared. “Hope,” he said with a sad smile. “I thought it might be you.”

  Hope looked up. “Hello, Sheriff.” She smiled, and Matt was struck by how very beaut
iful she was. With her wavy, shoulder-length black hair and almond-shaped bright blue eyes, she was both conventionally pretty and femme fatale at once, like a movie star from the forties, but he’d been too anxious about her strange presence at his door to notice it before.

  “Let’s call your grandmother,” Ray Walker said to her.

  “Am I staying with her and not Derek?” she asked, looking confused. “Is he even home today? I swear, he’s like a parasite sometimes. Sucking all my energy…”

  “We’ll find out if you’re staying with Sherry, okay?” Sheriff Walker answered, his own eyes guarded. “Why don’t you come over to my place, and we’ll give her a call.”

  Hope shook her head. “No. I want to wait here. I need to supervise the renovation,” she said with a new, take-charge attitude that hadn’t been there before.

  “There’s the Hope I know,” Walker said, before glancing over at Matt to make sure it was all right with him. Matt nodded, and Walker walked away to make the call in private.

  Hope respectfully, but pointedly, began grilling Matt about renovation costs and materials, and he answered each and every question, too bemused by the entire situation to do anything other than submit to her inquisition.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, three older women were racing across the lawn. Matt shook his head to make sure he was seeing right. One of the older ladies was wearing revealing red lingerie, another was wearing a silver nightcap in the shape of a witch’s hat, and the third was wearing monkey pajamas along with monkey slippers. That last one called out, “Hope,” her features lined with worry. “I got here as soon as I could!”

  “We fell asleep binge-watching The Walking Dead,” the woman in the witch’s cap explained. Matt grinned at that, but the irony seemed lost on everyone but him.

  “Hi, Grandma, Rosa, and Ruby! Look. We did it. We bought the house. And this is the man Derek and I hired to fix the place up. It seems like he knows what he’s doing. This is…” Her nose scrunched up, and Matt quickly stood up and stuck his hand out.

  “Matt Williams,” he said.

  The three women took turns giving him firm handshakes and dirty looks. Hope smiled and said, “Matt Williams, this is my grandmother, Sherry Stokes”—she pointed to the woman in monkey pj’s—“and her business partners, Ruby Meriwether and Rosa Medina.” Matt nodded toward Ruby, the witch, and Rosa, the siren, in turn.

  Medina. He now knew who the three women were. They owned the Gypsy Fortune Café and Bakery in downtown Spinning Hills. Rosa Medina was his friend’s grandmother, and he wondered if telling them he knew Marty would ease the suspicious looks they were sending his way.

  “They’re like my second grandmas,” Hope continued. “And I got my business sense from them so stay on your toes ’cause they’ll be watching you closely now, too.”

  “You bet we will,” Rosa declared in a melodious accent at odds with her scowl.

  Sherry looked over at Ray Walker, Ruby, and Rosa. “Can you three escort Hope to my car? Be careful not to wake her. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “Sure thing,” Walker said. “And don’t worry ’bout Matt here. He’s a good kid. Wouldn’t do your granddaughter any harm. And I’m always next door with a rifle anyhow.”

  “I’m sure Matt will remember that,” Ruby answered without looking at him. There was no need to. The unnecessary message had been received, loud and clear.

  To Hope, Sherry said, “You’re staying with me tonight, honey. Sheriff Walker, Rosa, and Ruby will take you to my car, and I’ll be there in a moment, okay?”

  “Be careful not to wake her?” Matt repeated Sherry’s words as soon as a waddling Hope was out of earshot.

  Sherry let out a sigh before eyeing him warily. It was obvious she didn’t relish having this conversation with a stranger. “Hope used to sleepwalk. It stopped when she moved out of state, but now that she’s here for an extended stay, it has started up again. She’s having a hard time believing she can’t control it. The most she’s agreed to do is wear that reflective nightgown her sister made for her, just in case. So now I’m left to call upon either your sense of honor or your sense of self-preservation, whichever is greater, to tell you that even though we’ll take new measures to keep it from happening again, if she does come back here, you are to call me or her sisters straight away. I’ll leave you our numbers. Do not take her inside with you. Keep her out here, but whatever you do, don’t wake her. Sleepwalkers tend to be disoriented when they’re awoken in the middle of an episode, and they can lash out if they’re woken up by someone they don’t know. And if you see her around during the day, don’t, under any circumstance, ever approach her as if you know her. She never remembers anything, and she won’t know you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” was all he could think of to say. Sherry gave him three phone numbers and rattled off a few more threats, while Matt tried to explain that he was only there on weekends to work on the fixer-upper he planned to move into early next year, and that he was rarely there so late. He asked Sherry one question and only because it had to do with Hope’s safety, should she come back. “Is she pregnant?”

  Sherry looked stricken. “No. And please, I know I don’t know you, but I plead with you never to mention what happened here today to anybody. She’d be so hurt.”

  Matt didn’t know if it was the late hour, his exhaustion, or the strange situation, but he was compelled to say something he’d never said aloud before. “I know some secrets are necessary to a person’s survival, whether physical or emotional. Please trust that I understand that and that I’ll keep everything that happened here tonight to myself.”

  Sherry left, half mumbling to herself about it being time to take desperate measures. When Sheriff Walker came back up to thank him for his patience and to say goodnight, the only question Matt dared ask the reserved older man was, “Did she used to live here?”

  Walker hesitated before saying, “Yes. A long time ago. And that’s all you’re getting out of me.” He then squeezed his shoulder, and said, “Goodnight, son.”

  Matt nodded and bid him good night as well, but he remained where he stood for a long time, staring out into the foggy night, wondering what had happened to Hope that she was waiting for a man named Derek while rubbing her nonexistent pregnant belly.

  * * *

  Mid-August

  Matt’s arms felt about ready to fall off. What had possessed him to think he could drywall the place, all by himself, in just one weekend? He sighed. Marty Medina and Johnny Amador had bet him ten measly dollars he couldn’t. And now here he was. Again.

  He’d won. Or had he? It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he had anything to do anyway. He was twenty-eight and a lot of the things he used to enjoy doing, like partying the night away with friends, barhopping, and playing the field, had gotten old and stale. Fixing up the dump he’d bought had been keeping him busy. Even if he still couldn’t look at it and think of it as home.

  He slid down the wall and rested his head against it, wondering if he could lift his arms enough to steer his car home. Maybe he should just close his eyes and sleep right where he was. His first night in his first home, he thought as he dozed off.

  Loud banging on the front door made him open his eyes and loll his head to the side to try and see out of one of the sidelites. When he heard a sobbing woman, panic gripped him the way it hadn’t in years. He scrambled up and rushed to open the door. “What happened? Who hurt you?” The words were out of his mouth, and he was looking every which way before his thoughts could catch up.

  “No one hurt me.” She gulped. “I don’t know why I’m crying!” Hope threw herself into his arms.

  His still-foggy brain registered that she was unhurt and there seemed nothing else for him to do but put his arms around her and try his best to comfort her. “Shh.” He tried to soothe her, wondering if she was sleepwalking again. Probably. She was wearing reflective pajamas, she had thrown herself into a strange man’s arms, and she didn’t know why she was crying.