When We Met (Fool's Gold #13)(22)

He walked out into the afternoon and told himself it was way too early to get drunk.

Girls. He was going to be responsible for seven-year-old girls. He paused by the curb and stared at his motorcycle. He rode a Harley. What if there were trips with the girls and he was expected to drive? People could die in a car accident. His scarred heart was living proof. He swore again, this time loudly and with emphasis.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pushed a couple of buttons.

“It’s me. What’s your afternoon like?”

He waited for Consuelo to tell him she was too busy to bother with him, but she surprised him by pausing and saying, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything. I’m screwed.”

“What do you need?”

He stared at the Harley. He loved riding it. Loved the feel of the wind, the speed. The sense of freedom.

“I need to buy a car.”

“What?”

“I need something safe. That holds a lot of people. Like an SUV.” Or a minivan. Only he couldn’t even say the word. “One of those three-row ones.”

He could feel the walls of life closing in on him.

“Do I want to know why?” Consuelo asked.

“No.”

“Okay. See you at home in fifteen minutes.”

* * *

TARYN STARED AT the simple dark chocolate truffle that had been delivered to her office, along with a note. There was a restaurant name and a time. No signature, no greeting. Just Henri’s and seven o’clock. Either Angel was showing that he was into making an effort or he really didn’t like to pick up the phone.

Before she could decide, Kenny and Jack walked in. Kenny dropped a massive backpack onto her desk and grinned.

“You’re back,” she said, stating the obvious.

“We are back and we’re the best,” Kenny told her.

Jack sat on the corner of her desk and shrugged. “We can’t help it,” he said modestly. “We’re simply that good.”

“Lucky me.”

Jack and Kenny had been in Los Angeles for the meeting with the owner of Living Life at a Run.

“So your conversation went well?” she asked.

“You know it. You’re going to love Cole,” Jack said as he slapped the top of the pack and grinned. “And he’s going to love you.”

Kenny nodded enthusiastically. “We talked sports, of course. He’s a football fan.”

“Who isn’t?” Taryn asked, trying not to look at the jumbo backpack taking up most of her desk. It was huge and very black. There were poles on one side. If she didn’t know better, she would think they went against the body—maybe to distribute the weight more evenly. A horrifying thought.

But the LL@R logo was facing her, so it was unlikely that part went against your back. Besides, if it didn’t face out, how would you open it? Still, she wasn’t sure she was excited about wearing something so heavy that it needed weight-distribution engineering built into its design.

“He skis,” Kenny added, sounding impressed. “He knows Kipling Gilmore.”

Taryn had learned long ago that it was easier to fit in with her business partners than to fight the inevitable. Besides, there were three of them and only one of her. So she’d learned the language of sports. She could intelligently discuss nearly every game played with a ball or even a puck. She understood which had innings, quarters and periods. Every year she sat with the boys during the NFL draft and listened to them tell what it had been like for them when they’d gone through it. Which meant she knew exactly who Kipling Gilmore was.

Kipling Gilmore was an American skier who had dominated at the Olympics. He’d taken the gold in both the Super-G and the combined events.

“I’m sure they’re brushing each other’s hair even as we speak,” she said.

Kenny shook his head. “Why aren’t you impressed by sports celebrities?”

“Because I have you and Sam and Jack already. What could be better?”

“Good answer,” Jack told her, and patted the backpack again. “Cole’s excited about our meeting. The plan is for us to do an introductory presentation. Then we go camping for the weekend, followed by a more detailed discussion of what we could do for him.”

Taryn nodded. This wasn’t the first time a client had made that sort of a request. Many of them wanted to be sure the PR firm understood the product. They’d had a great time in Cabo with a client who made tequila. She had a feeling that for her, camping equipment and sports gear wouldn’t be as fun. Not that she would get that intimately involved.

She was about to tell them to have a good time when she noticed how Kenny and Jack were looking at everything but each other. And her.

“What?” she demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Kenny nudged Jack. “You do it.”

“You said you would.”

“You were married to her.”

Jack sighed. “Chicken.”

“I’m good with that,” Kenny admitted, then smiled at her. “Jack has something to tell you.”

Taryn didn’t like the tone of this conversation. “I’ve guessed that.” She looked at Jack and raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Cole wants us to take a weekend trip with him.”