When We Met (5 page)

Noelle winced. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh. There have been stalkers and, oh, do you remember the girl who pretended to be pregnant?”

Taryn nodded.

“I feel bad for him,” Larissa admitted. “He's a great guy, but he's been burned a bunch of times. Now he refuses to get involved at all. His family doesn't help.”

“They're not into boundaries,” Taryn said simply, thinking it was time to change the subject. “So, what's new in town? Any hot gossip?”

Jo appeared with chips and salsa, along with a bowl of guacamole. “On the house,” she said with a smile. “Because of the new girl.”

Larissa blinked at her. “Thank you. That's so nice.”

“Yeah, I'm a nice person. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Taryn eyed the chips and felt her stomach growl. Fine. She would add fifteen minutes to her workout that afternoon. Fifteen ugly minutes of gross sweating would be worth it if she could indulge a little.

“Gossip,” Isabel said as she grabbed a chip. “Mayor Marsha's assistant is leaving, so she'll be hiring a new one. That is going to be so weird. Marjorie has worked for the mayor for years. Since maybe high school or something.”

“I wonder who the new assistant will be,” Dellina said, then chuckled. “I'll tell Fayrene. She's the sister with the temp agency. I'm sure she'll offer to fill in during the interview process.”

“I need her number,” Taryn said. “We sometimes need help with big projects at Score.”

“I have a card right here,” Dellina told her, and reached into her bag.

“Mayor Marsha is going on vacation,” Noelle said, scooping up guacamole. “She was in the other day and bought a couple of things for—”

Both Isabel and Dellina stared at her.

“What?” Noelle asked, visibly shrinking in her seat. “What did I say?”

“The mayor's going on vacation?” Dellina demanded.

“She never goes on vacation,” Isabel added. “I mean never.”

Taryn didn't get the problem. “Isn't she allowed? From what I've seen, she works pretty hard for the town. Going away might do her good.”

Dellina and Isabel exchanged a look. “Maybe,” Isabel admitted. “But it's weird. Like she might never come back.”

Larissa looked as confused as Taryn felt. “Does she have a husband?”

“She's a widow.”

Taryn reached for another chip. “Maybe she has a mysterious, handsome man she travels with,” she teased.

Isabel's eyes widened. “Mayor Marsha with a secret lover?”

Noelle shook her head. “Okay, I'm kind of with you on that one. While I want her to be happy, it's kind of strange to think about.”

“We should all be so lucky when we're her age,” Taryn said firmly. “I vote for the secret lover story. The mayor has earned it.”

“Troublemaker,” Dellina grumbled.

“You know it.”

* * *

T
ARYN
WAS
NAKED
.
Angel stared at her and felt the breath leave his body. Good thing because that made room for more hot blood to fill his groin. She was tall and leggy and totally naked, with her long hair covering her breasts and hard nipples playing peekaboo with him. And speaking of hard—

“Get up.”

“I am up,” he mumbled only to realize the slightly crabby voice wasn't coming from the vision in front of him but was instead at the periphery of his consciousness. Nor was the voice in question talking about
up
in the sense that he meant it.

He sat up instantly. But even in his newly awake state, he had the sense to make sure the sheets were covering his now painful erection.

Consuelo stood in the doorway of his bedroom. The hall light was on and she was already dressed. He glanced at the clock and saw it was a few minutes to six.

“Why are you awake so early?” he asked.

“We have to be somewhere.”

“Where?”

“A basketball game. At Score. It's the PR agency with the football—”

“I know what it is,” he said, willing his penis to calm down. There was no way he could stand with Consuelo in the room. She wasn't the type to pretend to ignore it, and he didn't want to take the ribbing.

“You're crabby,” she told him. “We're leaving in five minutes. Be ready.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He waited until she walked out of the room and closed the door before standing. He pulled on sweats and a T-shirt and then got socks and athletic shoes. Five minutes later, he was presentable in all ways possible and headed out the door.

It was still dark outside, but first rays of light were visible over the mountains. Consuelo stood by her truck, her keys dangling from her fingers. He noticed she'd removed her engagement ring.

“Hey,” he said, pausing by the passenger door. “You two set the date yet?”

“Do you want me to start the day by killing you? Because I can.”

Her tough talk didn't bother him. He knew the cause. He grabbed her around the shoulders, then twisted her until he had her in a headlock. He wasn't trying that hard and she could have broken free at any second, but she didn't. Instead she leaned into him.

“Don't be scared,” he said quickly. “Kent's lucky to have you.”

Consuelo shrugged free of his hold and stared at him. “What if I don't know how to be what he wants?”

“Dollface, you're his fantasy.”

“Fantasies change.”

“He's not going to change his mind. He loves you.”

Under any other circumstances he would have added something like “God knows why.” But she was vulnerable and he wouldn't tease her when she was down.

“Yeah,” she said, not sounding convinced. “I guess.”

He pulled her close. She stepped into his embrace. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Look at it this way. If he does change his mind, you can kill him and I'll help you hide the body.”

She chuckled. “Deal.”

They drove to Score. On the way, Angel briefly wondered if he would see Taryn, only to realize she wasn't exactly the organized sports type. He'd seen enough of her to know that she had to work out, but in a clean, civilized way. An elliptical, he would guess. Maybe some free weights. Probably pink and with a designer label.

The image made him smile. Yeah, that was Taryn. Not fussy, he thought. Perfect. What he would give to see her with a little mud on her cheeks. Or naked. Naked worked for him.

They pulled up in front of the offices, then Consuelo made a U-turn. Angel saw the full-sized basketball court and the guys waiting.

Ford and Justice were his business partners. He'd met Jack and Kenny around town and knew Sam by sight. Also joining the game were Ryan Patterson, a local engineer, Raoul Moreno and Josh Golden. Which meant they had a full team.

“Hey,” he said as he and Consuelo walked onto the court.

They greeted each other and shook hands. He half expected a comment about the
girl,
but her reputation seemed to have preceded her.

Jack stepped into the middle of the group. “Let's divide up into teams and see who gets their asses handed to them. Sam?”

Sam stepped forward with a cloth bag in his hand. “We'll draw chips. Consuelo's team is shirts.”

Kenny grinned. “Am I the only one who wanted her on skins?”

Angel prepared to get between them, knowing Consuelo was more than capable of doing permanent damage to the man. It didn't matter that Kenny was more than a foot taller and at least a hundred pounds of muscle heavier. She could have him on the ground and screaming in a heartbeat.

But she only raised an eyebrow and murmured, “In your dreams, rookie.”

The guys all laughed, then reached for the bag to pull chips.

Two minutes later, they were sorted into teams. Angel pulled off his shirt and told Kenny, Raoul and Sam to stay clear of Consuelo. “She'll play to win and she plays dirty.”

Justice, also on their team, nodded. “He's not kidding. Don't let her size fool you.”

Jack took a basketball out of a bin on the court and tossed it in the air. “Let's play ball.”

The game started hard and fast and continued that way. Angel hadn't played in a couple of years and found the stop-start of the game got his heart rate going. Nearly as fun as a run straight up the mountain, he thought, as he stole the ball from Ford and passed it to Sam, who scored.

The sun rose overhead. While the early morning was still cool, they were all soon sweating and swearing. Good thing the court was in a more industrial part of town, Angel thought humorously as Jack let loose a string of curse words that had Consuelo wagging her finger at him.

“You kiss your mama with that mouth?” she asked.

“Funny.” He tossed her the ball.

Angel turned, prepared to go after him. Just then Kenny gave a wolf whistle, then yelled, “Looking good, Taryn.”

Even as he told himself to focus on the game, he couldn't help looking. Taryn was across the street, walking from the parking lot to the Score building. She wore a pale blue suit that hugged her body the way he wanted to. Her legs were long and bare, and she had on yet another pair of ridiculously high heels. These were beige with a white heel and screamed
Come fuck me.
How was he supposed to resist that?

Her hair hung down her back. She had a purse dangling off her forearm and a briefcase in her other hand. Keys jingled. She looked powerful, sexy and—

Something hard banged into the side of his head. He turned and saw Ford grinning at him as the basketball bounced away.

“Sorry, man,” Ford said, obviously not the least bit sorry. “I thought you were paying attention.”

Angel gave him the finger, then went after the ball. When he next looked across the street, Taryn was gone and the day seemed just a little less bright.

CHAPTER FIVE

T
ARYN
GLANCED
UP
at the screen on the wall, then frowned. Normally she had one of her staff work on her PowerPoint slides, but she hadn't been happy with this presentation from the beginning and was determined to get it right. After three tries from the graphic folks, she was tweaking it herself. What she didn't understand was how what looked perfectly fine on her computer suddenly seemed to have less pop on the giant wall screen. Of course if it was a size issue, she should ask one of the boys, she thought with a grin. As men, they would be more sensitive to the topic.

“What's so funny?”

She looked up and saw Sam had walked into the conference room. “Trying to get a presentation right,” she told him.

He glanced at the chart on the wall. “I fail to see the humor.”

She pressed her lips together rather than tease him by saying he usually did. In truth Sam had a good sense of humor. But right now he was frowning his “something isn't right” frown.

“What's up?” she asked as she rose and walked toward him.

He glanced down at her bare feet. “Why do you wear those shoes if they're so uncomfortable?”

Because once again she'd kicked off her heels as soon as she'd gotten to her office. “They have a six-inch heel. Even with a one-and-a-half-inch platform, they're hardly something I can wear all day.”

“Then why buy them?”

She rested her palm against the side of his face. “Did you see them? They're works of art. Prada bicolor peep-toe pumps. They're suede. Somewhere right now a poem is being written to those shoes.”

“But you can't walk in them.”

“You can't have sex with Miss April, but that doesn't stop you from buying
Playboy.
”

Sam took her hand in his and lightly kissed her palm. “I haven't bought
Playboy
since I was nineteen. You're a very strange woman and I don't understand your shoe obsession.”

She smiled. “But that's not why you want to talk to me.”

“No, it's not.”

Sam crossed to the glass door of the conference room and looked into the hall. Taryn didn't think he was watching for anything in particular. Obviously whatever he had to say was difficult for him. With Sam, it could be anything. Jack tended to tell her everything, and Kenny shared the normal amount, but Sam often kept things to himself.

“How was the game this morning?” she asked, both to help him relax and also because there was an off chance he might mention Angel, and she would like that.

She'd been so careful not to stare while walking into the building. But once inside, she'd positioned herself so she could see the game. Angel had played well and the man looked good in shorts and nothing else. It was enough to give a girl ideas.

“Good. Intense. Have you met Consuelo?”

Taryn nodded. “Yes. I know who she is.”

“Plays a hell of a game.” He grinned. “I want her on my team all the time.”

Taryn had a feeling that if Sam asked, Consuelo would say yes, even if she
were
engaged. As a rule, women liked Sam. He was quiet but intense. Handsome. For those who found big men intimidating or just too bulky, Sam was the perfect combination of lean and muscled.

Taryn knew the basics of his past. How he'd grown up in a close, athletic family. His father had played professional basketball in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Sam's mother had been an Olympic equestrian. His sisters had excelled at sports, but Sam, the youngest, had been sick as a kid. Sick enough that he never got to do anything.

He hadn't blossomed until college, when he'd discovered he could kick a football better than nearly anyone else. She'd often wondered if the transition from nerdy to hunky had been difficult. With the sudden availability of all kinds of women had come the issue of trusting them. Something Sam had learned the hard way he couldn't always do.

Now she studied him before asking, “Are you seeing anyone?”

He glared at her. “What? No. And I'm not talking about it.”

He was nothing if not private, she thought. “Don't bite my head off. I was just asking. It's been a while. Unless you were seeing someone and didn't want us to know.”

“Yeah, because that went so well last time,” he muttered.

He had a point there. In his previous relationship Sam had been determined not to let anyone know he had a woman in his life. Unfortunately he'd kept so quiet, not even Kenny and Jack had known. So when the woman in question had come on to them, they'd seen no reason to refuse her invitation. Individually, of course. It was only later they'd discovered they'd inadvertently slept with their best friend's girl.

Sam had dumped her as soon as he found out and had accepted his friends' apologies. But since then, he'd stopped seeing anyone. Taryn understood why but believed Sam needed to get over it. When he wasn't in a relationship, he could get solitary and moody.

“Everything okay with the business?” she asked.

“Fine. We have a good client base and they mostly pay on time.” He drew in a breath. “About the client party,” he began.

“What? I thought I made my position clear. You three decided to have a big party. I didn't want to. I'll be there, I'll smile and I'll look pretty, but that's it.”

Sam held up both hands. “You've said that before. I'm saying I need help. It's a big event to plan. I need some recommendations for someone to help me. And not Dellina.”

“Why not Dellina? She's great. And suck it up, big guy—she's the only one in town who's qualified. Look, Sam, I don't know what your deal is with her, but she does good work. We have to support the local businesses so we can fit in.”

“Since when do you care about fitting in?”

“Since always. PR is our business. Town support is a big deal. Bringing in someone from outside would be a mistake and you know it.” She put her hands on her hips. “She's capable—parties like this are exactly what she does. What is your problem with her?”

“It's complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it. If you won't tell me what's wrong, I can't help. Which means this is now your problem and you need to solve it.”

His jaw tightened. “This isn't you at your most supportive.”

“Do I look like I care?”

He surprised her by smiling. “That's the thing, Taryn. You always care. Unfortunately right now you're being a pain in my ass.”

“Then my work here is done.”

* * *

A
NGEL
ARRIVED
AT
City Hall five minutes before the Grove Keepers' meeting. He'd meant to do a little research online beforehand—find out about the organization and who was in charge. But a last-minute redo of an obstacle course had kept him busy for the past couple of days. Still, he knew he would pick up what he needed in plenty of time for his first grove meeting.

For a second he hesitated, thinking about what it would be like to work with the boys. Would they remind him of Marcus? Despite the time that had passed, he thought about his son every day. Missed him every day. Sometimes the memories were easy and sometimes they were hard, but they were always there.

Marcus would approve of this, he reminded himself. He'd liked hanging out with his friends.

Angel took the stairs two at a time and headed for the conference room on the second floor. He walked in and found most of the chairs around the long table were already full. Of women.

Angel paused in the doorway as he worked the problem. It made sense that moms would want to get involved with their sons, he thought. They were the traditional caretakers of the family. But shouldn't there be a few dads in the mix, too?

It wasn't that he didn't like women. They were great. His wife had been a woman. But this was different. Teenaged boys needed a male role model.

A woman in her fifties walked up to him and smiled. “Hello, Angel.”

It took him a second to recognize Denise Hendrix—Ford's mother. He'd had dinner at her house a few times since moving to town last year. She was friendly and well loved by her six children.

“Mrs. Hendrix,” he said. “Nice to see you.”

She shook her head. “Please, don't call me Mrs. Hendrix. That makes me sound older than I already am. I'm Denise.”

“Sure.” He glanced around the room. “You have an FWM grove?”

“Not exactly. I'm the head of the Grove Council. Thank you so much for volunteering. We're all very excited to have you aboard. Fresh blood and all that. We were afraid we'd lose you to the Boy Scouts, but we didn't and we're thrilled.”

She guided him over to one of the empty chairs and started introducing him to everyone. He nodded and put names with faces, then took his seat.

Even as he settled in his chair, he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. Something was wrong. Denise's mention of the Boy Scouts had confused him. Why would there be the FWM to help young men grow up when they could join the Boy Scouts instead? Was Fool's Gold really big enough to support both organizations? Or had he misunderstood what the mayor had been telling him?

Denise took her place at the head of the table and started passing out thick notebooks. As she placed one in front of him, Angel was painfully aware of the fact that not only was it pink but the lettering across the front proclaimed the motto of the FWM.

Growing Our Girls into Capable Young Women.

He swore silently. Girls? He couldn't take care of a grove of girls. He'd never had a daughter, and what he knew about women wasn't exactly helpful to anyone.

Denise walked back to the head of the table and faced the group. “Thank you all for coming today. As you know, Marjorie has run the Grove Council for several years now and has done an excellent job.”

Angel saw Mayor Marsha's assistant sitting near the front of the table. She waved when her name was mentioned. While she was still obviously upset, she wasn't currently crying, which Angel appreciated.

“With her moving to Portland, there was an opening on the council,” Denise continued. “All three of my girls were once members of FWM.” She smiled. “Although it was a long time ago, I still remember their excitement as they grew from Acorns to Mighty Oaks. FWM was a positive influence on them in so many ways. So when I was asked to take over Marjorie's position on the council, I said yes.”

Everyone applauded. Angel joined in. To be honest, it didn't matter who was in charge. Not when he'd just learned he was going to be responsible for
girls.
What happened to the teenaged boys? That he could handle.

“Angel, you're going to be starting with our newest girls,” Denise said with a smile. “You can figure it out together. I think that always works best. While your commitment is year to year, I hope we can count on you to stay with your grove until they, too, are Mighty Oaks.”

All the women in the room were staring at him, nodding and mostly smiling. A few looked doubtful, which made sense. He was doubtful, too. Or screwed. It kind of depended on how he looked at things.

Denise went through the rest of the “growing season.” The other groves had started in September. Only his would have a short season to get them used to the program. She mentioned a few all-grove events, then answered questions.

Angel tuned out the conversation and reached for the notebook. The
pink
notebook. He flipped it open and scanned the table of contents. There were sections on each level of the FWM along with subheadings.

He read the mission statement, then discovered that the Future Warriors of the Máa-zib marked their progress by earning small wooden beads after studying different areas of life. Some lessons were practical like learning knots and reading maps. Some were related to community. His girls were expected to take on a short-term civic project. There were also beads for family and friendship.

He kept turning pages and saw there were girlie activities like face painting. He wondered if there was a bead for style and if he could get Taryn to be a guest speaker.

He could do this, he told himself. Maybe just for the couple of months required for this season. Then he would explain to Denise and the mayor that he wasn't an FWM kind of guy. No way he could take his grove through—

He turned the page and came to a stop. He swore silently, then began to look for an exit. Holy shit. There was a bead for the feminine cycle. What had the mayor been thinking when she'd suggested this was where he should volunteer? Was the old woman starting to lose her marbles? He couldn't talk to a bunch of—he checked which year that happened in and did the math—ten-year-olds about menstruation.

He carefully closed the notebook and stayed in his seat. When the meeting broke up, he headed directly for Denise. He waited until the other women had left, then faced Ford's mother.

“I can't do this,” he said, putting his notebook down in front of her. “I'm not the right person for the job.”

She surprised him by smiling. “Done in by the feminine cycle?”

He felt himself flush. “Look, I've faced a lot in my life. There are things I know, things I've done. Camping, sure. Knots and map reading, I'm good. But the rest of it? No way. These are little girls. They need a woman. Or at least a man with a daughter.”

Denise's mouth straightened. “Angel, I understand your fear.” She paused. “All right, I don't, but I believe it's real to you.”

Talk about not being very supportive, he thought grimly.

“Most of the girls who have signed up for FWM this year come from either broken homes or they have suffered some kind of loss. While I want to believe nothing bad ever happens in Fool's Gold, that's not true. Mayor Marsha and I talked about this at length. We believe you're the right man for the job.”