When We Met (Fool's Gold #13)(36)

She ran a successful business, so he knew she had a brain, but until this morning, he hadn’t realized she had a spine made of steel. Because despite the fall, she’d gotten back on the rock wall and made her way to the top. It hadn’t been fast or elegant, but she’d made it. When she’d reached the floor again, she’d unfastened the harness, stepped out of the straps, walked over to a nearby trash can and promptly thrown up.

She had the heart of a warrior, he thought as he pulled up in front of her house. She did the job and handled the fear later.

He parked his Harley and walked toward her door. They’d agreed to go to the Spring Festival after they’d both gone home and changed clothes.

The front door opened and Taryn stepped out. She’d replaced her skintight workout clothes with skintight jeans. Nice, he thought, wishing she would turn around so he could look at her ass. Studying the curves had a way of anchoring him in a very good place.

She had on some kind of sweater set. The bottom piece was tight enough to be interesting, but not so tight that she couldn’t fit in with the families that would be flooding downtown. He glanced down and saw that for once, she’d put on boots with only a two-inch heel.

She followed his gaze and raised her eyebrows. “Making sure I’m able to walk long distances?”

“Didn’t know if you expected to be carried.”

“I understand the concept of the festivals,” she told him, checking to make sure the door was locked then joining him on the walkway. “I’ve been to several. I bid on casseroles at the Great Casserole Cook-off in February.”

“Did you win?”

She tilted her head. “Seriously? You have to ask?”

“Apparently not. How are you feeling?”

“Fine. I had a couple of crackers and sparkling water. I’m better.” Her mouth twisted. “Is this the awkward part of the conversation where I point out I brushed my teeth when I got home?” She looked away. “I can’t believe I threw up. Or fell. Or any of it.”

“You thought you were going to crash into the floor. You reacted. We’ve all done it.”

“Fall off a fake mountainside? I don’t think so.”

“It’s not the mistake,” he told her, reaching for her hand. “It’s what you do once you realize you’ve screwed up. You got back on the horse. Or in this case, the mountain.”

She started to pull her hand away, then paused and looked at him. He sensed she was about to make a decision. He wanted her to choose him. After what felt like a lifetime, she relaxed and laced her fingers with his.

“I feel like a prize idiot.”

“That’s the best kind of idiot to be.”

They reached the sidewalk and he turned them toward town.

“The first time I met Marie, she was pulled off at the side of the road and changing a flat tire.” He paused, remembering the moment and smiling. “I take that back. Two guys had stopped to help or maybe try to pick her up. Either way, they were talking to her and she wasn’t looking too happy about it.”

“Competition,” Taryn murmured. “Let me guess. You ignored them and changed the tire while they attempted to charm her.”

“You got it,” he said, surprised she had guessed. Although he shouldn’t be. Taryn saw things others didn’t. “When I was done, Marie told the other two to get lost. She was only interested in a man who took care of things, not ones who just talked about it.”

He stopped, startled at the turn of conversation. He never talked about Marie and certainly wouldn’t with a woman. Yet here he was, spilling his emotional guts.

Way to get laid, he grumbled silently. Because talking about his late wife was sure to get Taryn hot.

But he’d already plunged into this particular ocean. He was going to have to swim for shore.

“She was tough,” he continued. “Confident, but with a soft side. You remind me a lot of her.”

She glanced at him. “Thank you. I know how you felt about her, so it’s a compliment.”

He nodded, pleased that she understood where he was coming from.

They reached the center of town. The parade was over but there were booths set up all over.

“This was my first festival,” he told her. “When I got here last year. Shocked the hell out of me.”

“I’ll bet. And now look at you. An FWM Grove Keeper.”

“Yeah, I still haven’t figured out how that happened.”

“You volunteered.”

Taryn smiled at a couple of people she knew and called out a greeting to a third. She felt ridiculously exposed, walking around with Angel, holding his hand. She wanted to pull away, to put distance between them. But she didn’t—mostly because in a weird, twisted way, it felt good to be just like everyone else. Even if it was only for an afternoon.

They stopped by a booth with a display of dried and silk flowers. “You could get a bouquet for your dining room table,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes. “Really?”

He grinned. “No. You’re not the flower type. You’re more edgy. Maybe just the stems in a statement on modern minimalism.”

“I’m surprised you know what minimalism is, modern or otherwise.”

He flashed her a smile. “I don’t. I was faking it.”