When We Met (8 page)

“You know how to braid, right?” she asked Angel.

“Of course.”

“Then this will be easy.”

As the other girls watched and Chloe sat without moving, Taryn talked him through the process of French-braiding the girls' hair.

Angel's fingers were clumsy, but he kept at it and eventually had a reasonably straight braid.

“Not bad for a rookie,” Taryn told him. “What do you think, Chloe?”

The girl touched her braid and offered Angel a slight smile. “Thank you,” she whispered.

The door to the hut opened and the first of the parents arrived. The girls scrambled to their feet and started to talk about their afternoon. The new bracelets and beads were shown off. Taryn rose and introduced herself to some of the parents. Angel did the same. Fifteen minutes later, they were alone.

“We survived,” she told him as she collected her brushes and the rest of the ties.

“I need a drink.”

She glanced at him and saw he looked shell-shocked. He was kind of pale and there was a glassy expression to his eyes.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I'll never be able to do this.”

“You were fine. The girls loved you.”

“I French-braided hair.”

She couldn't tell if he was proud or horrified.

She grinned. “See? Your first rite of girl passage. Soon you'll grow breasts.”

“Funny.”

She walked toward the door. “Tell you what. You stop at Hunan Palace and get us Chinese and I'll head by the bakery for cupcakes. We'll have a celebratory dinner at my place.”

“What do you have to drink?” he asked.

“Plenty of beer.”

When he raised his eyebrows in question, she laughed. “You're forgetting about the guys I work with. I always have beer in the refrigerator and steaks in the freezer. It's in my employment contract.”

“I gotta get that in mine.”

* * *

G
ETTING
DINNER
TOOK
a little longer than Angel had planned. There was a line to get takeout at Hunan Palace. Apparently a kids' baseball game had just ended. But he placed his order and waited, then drove over to Taryn's.

He parked in front of her small one-story house and made his way up the front walk. She opened the door before he got there and he nearly dropped the food when he saw her.

She'd traded dark washed jeans and boots for pale, worn jeans and bare feet. Her silk blouse was gone and in its place was an L.A. Stallions jersey with Sam's number on it. Her long hair was loose, her face free of makeup. She looked young enough that if he hadn't known her actual age, he would have told himself to keep moving without stopping.

“A transformation,” he said as she approached.

She smiled as her violet eyes brightened with amusement. “The real me.”

“I like.”

She moved aside to let him into her house. There was a nice-sized living room with a leather sofa and two big chairs. A huge flat-screen TV sat above the fireplace, and to the left was an Andy Warhol–style painting of Jack.

Angel stepped toward the piece of art. The subject was dressed for a game and had taken a knee on the field. His helmet was beside him. Jack looked straight out, as if into the viewer's eyes.

He turned back to Taryn, who was watching him. “Nice,” he said.

“It was a gift.”

Like her shirt? If he'd had any doubts that the guys she worked with were an important part of her life, seeing all this had made the situation clear. For a second he paused to wonder if he was bothered, and then he remembered what she'd told him about her past with Jack. They'd been married before. They were friends. But they weren't together. He could relate to that—after all, he lived with Consuelo. Although the situation was slightly different—he and Consuelo had never been married, or romantically involved—the principle was the same.

He smiled at Taryn and held up the bag. “Hungry?” he asked.

“Starving.”

She pointed through the doorway. He saw the table in the dining room beyond had been set. There were beers in place, along with plates. Music played in the background.

They sat down and started passing containers of food back and forth. Taryn reached for an egg roll.

“You survived your first meeting,” she said with a grin. “That has to make you happy.”

“It was tough,” he admitted. “I'm glad you were there. The hair braiding was brilliant.”

“It can become a tradition.”

He wasn't sure he was ready for that. “Little girls aren't my area of expertise.”

She looked at him. “You would have preferred boys?”

A simple question to which he should have said yes. Because he'd assumed his volunteer position
would
be with boys. Only now, after the fact, he wondered.

She set down her fork. “Angel?”

Her voice was soft, questioning. He had a feeling that if he brushed off the question, she would go with it.

“I had a son,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Marcus.”

She continued to study him but didn't speak. As if letting him find his way.

“I went into the army right after high school. My dad died a few weeks before graduation. The coal mines did him in and he made me promise I would get out. I didn't want to leave the town where I'd grown up, but I knew he was right. If I stayed, I would be trapped. So I left.”

“That must have been hard.”

“It was. I got through boot camp and ended up in Louisiana of all places.”

Where he'd met a girl, Taryn thought, sensing where the story was going. She briefly wondered what Angel had been like when he was younger—before he'd met the man who'd tried to slit his throat. Maybe even before he'd begun the kind of work that had put him in that position in the first place.

“What was her name?” she asked.

“Marie. She was beautiful. Tiny and Cajun, with a stubborn streak.” He flashed a smile. “She terrified me as much as she intrigued me. Luckily the love-at-first-sight thing happened to both of us. We were married within a couple of months.”

Love at first sight? Taryn wasn't a big believer. She'd never seen it in action. She knew that lust could blossom from almost nothing—if the women who showed up in the boys' hotel rooms were anything to go by. But that was different. That was about power by association. The bragging rights.

Love was different. There were—

She reached for her beer, then leaned back in her seat as the pieces all came together. Angel had loved his wife and now he wasn't married. He'd said he'd had a child, but it hadn't been real until now.

“Then you and Marie had Marcus.”

He nodded.

She watched the emotions chase across his face and wondered what he was thinking. Love was clear, as was pain and a sense of loss.

She waited, knowing he would answer the most important question when he was ready.

“They died,” he said at last. “Marcus was fourteen and Marie was driving him to a baseball game. There was a storm. From what the police could figure out, it was a single-car rollover. The coroner said they went quickly.”

Because Angel would have asked. He knew about suffering and wanted to make sure those he cared about didn't. She realized there weren't any words and instead reached across the table and lightly touched his hand.

“I didn't know what to do,” he admitted. “I buried them, sold the house, put everything in storage and walked away.”

“Did that help?” she asked.

“No.” He squeezed her fingers once, then pulled his hand out of reach. “I spent a few months drinking. Quit my job and gave serious thought to ending it all.” He shrugged. “But I knew how much Marie would hate that. So I went back to work. But my heart wasn't in it. Then one day, Justice showed up and talked to me about coming here. Once I visited the town, I knew it was the right decision. Fool's Gold reminds me of where I grew up. I can get involved.”

And stay disconnected at the same time, she thought.

The idea of tragedy in Angel's past didn't surprise her. She'd been pretty sure he couldn't do what he had done and not be exposed to loss. But the type of loss was unexpected. A wife and a son. A woman he had loved for years. What must it be like to be able to give your heart so completely? She'd never done it. No one close to her had done it successfully. The boys had tried. Well, not Jack, but Sam had, and Kenny... Okay, Kenny's situation was unique. But Sam had been in love when he'd gotten married. And since then, he'd made more than one attempt to find genuine love.

“Then the girls are a good choice,” she told him. “Similar and yet different. It might have been difficult to work with teenage boys.”

He nodded slowly. “If they reminded me of Marcus. You're probably right.”

“And now you know how to French-braid hair.”

He relaxed in his seat and smiled at her. “A necessary skill for a Grove Keeper. They should put that in the handbook.”

She grinned. “The handbook is pink. I'm thinking they assumed you already knew.”

Conversation shifted to the various girls in the grove. How a few had stood out and others would require a bit more time to get to know.

“Chloe was sweet,” Taryn said. “I hope the group can help her open up more. I think she wants to participate. I saw flashes of that, but it was almost as if she didn't remember how to make friends.”

“She might feel guilty about having fun,” Angel told her. “If she laughs, she's not missing her dad.” He paused. “It took me a while to recognize that in myself.”

“You must miss both Marie and Marcus.”

“I do. I think about them every day. I'll never not think about them. But the ache isn't there all the time, even if the guilt is. I should have been there to protect them.”

She wondered if that was about the driving or something more. “Because you would have done better navigating in a storm?”

“Because there's no point in saving the world if you can't save the people you love.”

An interesting twist, she thought.

She studied the man across from her. The scars, the cold gray eyes. He was dangerous and appealing. Knowing about the sadness in his past only made him more sexy. And yet...

To quote him, this wasn't her area of expertise, but if she had to guess she would say that for Angel to heal, he needed to have faith, and she was the last person to help him with that. Trust was an overrated commodity. She'd learned that the hardest way possible.

They were a couple of broken souls, she thought, passing him the spare ribs. A man who had loved and lost and a woman who didn't believe in romantic love at all.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
ARYN
SPENT
A
restless night, which didn't make for a good morning. The night before she'd been worried about her first meeting with the Acorns. Last night she'd been thinking about what Angel had shared with her about his past. She told herself that they all had ghosts to wrestle with, but somehow Angel's seemed more tangible than hers. Or maybe the difference was he'd met his as an adult, while hers were all left over from childhood.

She got into the office, still confused about what had happened or not happened. Their conversation didn't exactly lend itself to a romantic interlude. But somehow learning what she had about Angel had added dimensions to an already intriguing man. The safest and most sensible course of action seemed to be to cut and run. Not exactly an option.

She got to the office and turned on her computer. A few seconds later her calendar appeared with a large red block right in the middle of her day.

“Why didn't I know this before?” she asked out loud, even as she remembered entering the date herself. But it had been a few weeks ago and somehow she had forgotten.

Taryn called over to the graphics department and got one of the guys to set up the main conference room. Then she put a call in to Isabel and explained the crisis.

“I'm going to need food and beer,” she said. “Do I call Jo? Does she deliver?”

“Call Ana Raquel,” Isabel said. “Dellina's sister. She and her fiancé do catering. They wrote the Fool's Gold cookbook that was out last year. Just tell her what you need and she'll bring it to you.”

Taryn took down the number, then made the call. Ana Raquel promised to have the spread there on time. Just as she hung up, Larissa walked in with a couple of DVDs in her hand.

“For later,” the blonde said.

“You remembered?” Taryn asked.

“Sure. All the guys have been talking about it for a couple of weeks. You know how it bothers them.”

“No one reminded me.”

Larissa's eyes widened. “We're not ready? You know how they get.”

“I'm very clear on how they get, and it's handled. Sort of. We'll have plenty of food and beer in place when it's time.” She looked at the DVDs her friend held. “Let's get those into the player.”

They went upstairs to the large viewing room. There were oversize, comfy sofas and chairs, a massive TV and posters of the boys everywhere. There was also plenty of room for food and beer. Larissa loaded the first DVD and pushed Play. After a couple of seconds of blackness, images filled the giant screen.

A very young Jack stood in front of a reporter. Jack's suit looked painfully new and the jacket pulled across his broad shoulders.

The reporter, a seasoned veteran used to rookies, guided Jack through the interview.

“The L.A. Stallions made it clear they wanted you,” the reporter said. “That must have helped you get through the process.”

Taryn watched as twenty-two-year-old Jack tried not to smile too brightly on camera. But what the hell—he'd just been a first-round draft pick for his dream team. The man deserved to celebrate.

He said all the right things, because someone had taken the time to give him a few pointers. Back then he'd been seen as a way for the losing team to finally start to win some games. But the older, more experienced quarterback had made a comeback, benching Jack for nearly three years. What the impatient young player hadn't realized was he'd needed the time to refine his game and mature physically. When Jack was given his first shot at starting, he'd already been tested in safe situations and was ready for the responsibility. He'd taken his team to the play-offs six years in a row and had won the Super Bowl.

Taryn had met him the summer between his first and second winning seasons. He'd been hot, in every sense of the word.

Now she looked at the young man he'd been and wondered at the differences.

“He was a baby,” Larissa said with a laugh.

“That he was.”

The DVD played on. The scene switched to Kenny and then Sam having the same conversation, although Kenny hadn't gone until the second round and Sam had been right after him. Rare for a kicker.

Taryn had seen the interviews dozens of times, but they were still fun to watch. Sam, not wanting to give anything away, and Kenny both excited and concerned. The former because he was going to be a star and the latter because of what was happening at home.

Twenty-two, Taryn thought, doing the math. Kenny was a father-to-be by then. Or so he'd thought.

The door to the TV room opened and the men in question entered. They were older now. All in their mid-thirties. Former players in suits that cost more and fit better. They weren't as muscled, but they were all still fit.

Jack crossed to Taryn. “You remembered.”

She thought of the red notice on her computer and held in a need to wince. “I know this day is tough for you.”

“A lot of memories.”

She handed him the remotes. They would watch the coverage of their own NFL draft before switching over to view today's draft live. They would drink beer and tell stories and get absolutely no work done. Which was okay. They'd earned the break.

Taryn left them and went back to her office. She glanced at her phone and saw she'd received a text from Angel. It showed a picture of a rock-climbing wall. At least she assumed that's what it was. She'd only seen them in the movies or on TV. Next to the picture were a place and time.

She smiled. “You're not one for picking up the phone, are you?”

A second text came through.
You helped me. Now I help you.

A man with a sense of fair play, she thought. That was something she could appreciate.

* * *

L
ATE
S
ATURDAY
MORNING
Angel arrived at the sports center by the Lucky Lady Casino and Resort. From what he'd heard, the rock-climbing wall was a new addition. There were plenty of cars parked out front. He maneuvered his Harley to the parking lot on the side, then tucked his helmet under his arm as he headed around front. He saw Taryn walking toward the entrance.

She'd dressed appropriately—a loose T-shirt and some kind of fitted workout pants that left virtually nothing to the imagination. His gaze lingered on the length of her legs and the curve of her butt. He barely noticed her athletic shoes or that she'd pulled her hair back into a ponytail. It was only when he realized she'd come to a stop and had put her hands on her hips that he raised his attention to her face.

Both eyebrows were raised. “Really?” she asked. “You can't be more subtle?”

Caught red-handed, so to speak, and he had no one to blame but himself, he thought with a grin. “I'm unrepentant. You're more temptation than the average man can handle.”

“And here I was hoping for better than average.”

In flat shoes, she was several inches shorter than him, which he liked. He took her by her wrist and tugged her around the side of the building, then put his helmet on the sidewalk, cupped her face in both her hands and kissed her.

They were in a public place, in the middle of the afternoon. Not exactly conducive to a make-out session, but what the hell? He'd wanted to kiss Taryn from the first second he'd seen her last fall. He'd done his best to play things smart, but how was he supposed to resist her when she looked the way she did and sassed him on a regular basis?

Her mouth was soft and yielding. A bit of a surprise, but maybe she wasn't nearly as tough as she pretended. She put her hands on his sides. The touch was light, as if she wanted connection but didn't need his help to stay standing. Which would be just like her.

He brushed his mouth back and forth, exploring her, getting a feel for how it was going to be between them. Then, when the wanting started to grow, he drew back. He stared into her smoldering violet-blue eyes, pleased to see she'd been as intrigued as he had. He was about to kiss her again when a minivan pulled into a nearby parking space and about sixty kids tumbled out of the vehicle.

Taryn followed his gaze. “I never want that,” she said.

“Kids?”

“A minivan.” She shuddered.

“Because it would mean surrendering your identity?”

“Because no one needs that many cup holders. My assistant's kids are all grown and she still drives a minivan because she loves it. She brags about the twelve cup holders. Whenever she runs an errand she goes on and on about how much she can hold. It's not natural.”

He chuckled and put his arm around her. “The same could be said about your shoe collection. Do you really need that many? And those heels can't be good for you.”

She glanced at him. “Angel?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a favorite pair of my heels?”

He thought about how she looked in them and shook his head. “They're all good.”

“Imagine what it would be like if I was wearing them...and nothing else.”

They'd been walking toward the entrance. He stumbled and had to catch himself as the image she'd planted in his brain blossomed to life size and beckoned him closer. Was it him or was it hot out here? A naked Taryn in five-inch heels. That kind of reality had the power to kill a man.

He swore quietly. She smiled.

“Ever going to mock my shoes again?” she asked sweetly.

“Hell, no.”

“Then my work here is done.”

“Remind me to congratulate your partners for surviving as long as they have,” he grumbled.

She was still laughing when they stepped into the sports center.

Despite the fact that there was a festival going on in town, there were plenty of people wanting to rent racquetball courts or hit baseballs. Angel guided Taryn to the back where they would check in for the rock-climbing wall that dominated the center of the building.

“Ever done this before?” he asked.

“No, and I don't see the point now. The Living Life at a Run guy isn't going to make us climb the side of a mountain.”

“You don't know that.”

“I'm pretty sure. We don't have those kinds of mountains around here.”

She was right, which impressed him. He wouldn't have guessed she paid attention to her environment beyond whether or not it was comfortable.

“Rock climbing helps with coordination and upper body strength,” he told her. “Plus, you can talk about it and you'll seem like a jock.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, joy. Because my life has been so empty without that.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were signed up. Taryn hesitated before signing the waiver, then scribbled her name. She only gulped once when she saw she would be wearing rented climbing shoes.

“Just like bowling,” she murmured. “How lovely.”

But the joke was on him when she put her keys and cell phone in a small locker, then pulled off the loose T-shirt. Because underneath she had on a formfitting tank top cut low enough to make it hard for him to concentrate. It was going to be a long afternoon, he thought.

* * *

T
ARYN
HAD
ACCEPTED
the rented shoes, the noise coming from the other areas of the facility and the harness that was snug in places that hadn't seen action in a long time. Although after that very brief, very intense kiss earlier, she was hoping to have that chance soon. But what she wouldn't accept was Angel's silent laughter as she clung halfway up the damn fake rock, unable to move up or down.

“Raise your right hand,” he said from his position next to her. “Reach out.”

Which sounded oh, so easy, she thought grimly. She told herself she was secure. That there was some broad-shouldered college kid holding on to the rope that was clipped to her harness. Should she start to slip, he would catch her. Or at least hold on to her rope and lower her gently to the floor. Only she couldn't do it. She couldn't stretch out to the next hold and she couldn't trust enough to let go.

Angel moved closer and put his hand on top of hers. “Come on,” he said, his tone more gentle. “I'll help.”

She didn't want his help. She wanted to be somewhere else.

“I can do it,” she told him, trying to shake off his touch without releasing her hand. An impossible task.

“It's only a few inches away,” he told her.

Her arms and shoulders ached from the unaccustomed movements. Her legs were starting to tremble. Around them monkey children shot up to the top at lightning speed, calling out to each other as they went. She caught sight of an older couple making way more progress than she was.

“I'm going to kill Kenny and Jack,” she muttered, stretching out her arm so she could grab on to the next hold. “I'm going to get something heavy and beat them with it until they—”

Gravity was an unforgiving mistress. One second Taryn had a firm hold on the bumpy outcroppings of the fake rock, and the next she was falling toward the earth. She had no idea how far the floor was or how much it was going to hurt when she hit. Well before impact, she suddenly jerked to a stop as the guy holding her line stopped her fall.

The harness cut into her crotch, her hips and her side. She felt burns in places that should never see that much friction. She dangled, arms and legs frantically crawling for purchase, and then she was moving again, more slowly this time until she touched the floor.

The second she was on her feet, her spotter rushed toward her.

“You okay?” he asked. “You didn't scream. When people fall, they always scream.”

Taryn felt the adrenaline rush flood her and knew it was just a matter of time until she was looking for a quiet place to curl up and be sick. Angel expertly lowered himself and hurried toward her.

“You all right?”

She nodded, determined not to let anyone see she was shaken. “I slipped and now I'm fine.”