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see her. She eyed the dirty floor mats and frowned. She could make out bits of grass, gravel, a large oil stain, a dried-up French fry, and something else she couldn’t identify on them. She might just be wearing jeans, but these were custom-made Earnest Sewn jeans. At a grand a pair, she wasn’t about to ruin them with whatever was on that carpet.
    Ivy glanced at the truck again and sighed. “Don’t be a chickenshit!” she told herself, then opened the car door.
    Before the heels of her boots hit the gravel, Pepper snatched the car keys out of her hands. “Naughty,” she scolded, slipping them safely into her purse. “Let’s get inside before he does.”
    “Yeah,” Ivy agreed, following her to the front door. “Hopefully everyone in there hasn’t heard about my incident today.”
    Pepper frowned, pushing open the door. “What incident?”
    Ivy stopped in her tracks as her eyes adjusted to the dark bar and she realized everyone was looking at her. The jukebox in the corner started a new song and the first verse of “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” blared throughout the bar. Ivy groaned, dropping her head in her hands.
    Pepper grasped her wrist and tugged her farther inside. “Come on,” she said. She led Ivy through the tables and the people milling around to get two seats at the bar.
    Ivy tried to focus on the dark, polished wood of the bar, ignoring the people around her. She’d never actually been into Woody’s before. When she’d lived in Rosewood she’d been underage. She’d celebrated her twenty-first birthday at Drai’s in Hollywood.
    She lifted her eyes in time to see the hunk of a bartender coming toward her. He was well over six feet tall with wide shoulders, shaggy blond hair, and a wide, friendly smile. He had the laid-back carriage of a surfer with the strong, callused hands of a man who made more than just drinks. All the pretty boys she’d run across in LA had nothing on this guy.
    “Hey, Emmett,” Pepper said.
    Emmett planted his large hands on the top of the bar and flashed them both a ridiculously charming smile. “Evening, ladies. Who have you brought with you, Pepper?”
    Ivy chuckled. She didn’t run across that much; of course, Emmett didn’t look like a Top 40 guy. He wasn’t from around here, either. She would’ve remembered him.
    “Oh, come on, Emmett! Really?” Pepper sighed. “This is Ivy. Ivy Hudson . Ring a bell?”
    Ivy nudged Pepper and shook her head. Her public persona carried with it a lot of baggage and presumptions. She actually liked that he didn’t know who she was. It wouldn’t last long, and she wanted to enjoy it while she could.
    Emmett shrugged off their exchange and offered his hand. “Emmett Sawyer,” he said in introduction and gave her a firm but gentle shake. “Nice to meet you, Ivy. What can I get you two to drink?”
    Pepper ordered a vodka cranberry and Ivy got a rum and Diet Coke. Emmett disappeared to make their drinks.
    “Where did Rosewood find a guy like that?” Ivy asked.
    Pepper smiled and reached over for a couple of pretzels from a nearby bowl. “Emmett bought the bar about two years ago. Moved here from Florida, I think, although God knows why. He’s done an amazing job with this place. Honestly. It was never this nice before. He refinished all the wood and recovered all the leather booths and stools. He does some carpentry work on the side, and there isn’t a better advertisement for him than this place. I was thinking of hiring him to do some work at my new house.”
    That explained the hands. “You bought a place?”
    “Yeah,” Pepper said. “I finally saved up enough to buy one of the little historic houses off the square. Unfortunately, all I could afford was one that was more old than historic. It needs a ton of work. But it’s all mine and I can walk to the salon when the weather is nice.”
    “I’d love to see it,” Ivy said.
    “No way,” Pepper said. “No one is setting a foot into