When We Met (Fool's Gold #13)(43)

“See?” Kenny said. “It’s funny in a way they don’t mean it to be funny.”

“I’m sure it’s just the three of you,” she told him. “You’re all overgrown teenagers. No one else is thinking what you’re thinking.”

“You are,” Jack said. “Now you won’t be able to think of the slogan any other way.”

She hated to admit it, but he was right. “Happy ending,” in a certain context, could be a euphemism for an orgasm. Usually a male orgasm. “Well, crap. Fine. I’ll mention something to the mayor.”

“Can I come listen?” Kenny asked eagerly.

“No, you can’t. It’s going to be difficult enough to explain the double entrende of happy endings to a woman in her sixties as it is. I don’t need you giggling in the background.”

How on earth was she supposed to start that conversation with the mayor?

“Maybe it would help if we brainstormed a few ideas for you,” Jack said.

Taryn studied him. “Are you being serious or messing with me? Because I have other things I could be doing.”

“There used to be a man shortage,” Kenny said helpfully. “Now there isn’t.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Fool’s Gold—Where Men Are Finally Coming.”

The three guys all started laughing. Taryn collected her folders and walked out. Juveniles, she thought fondly. She was working with juveniles.

She started toward her office, only to be stopped by Larissa.

“You have visitors,” her friend said. Larissa looked more concerned than pleased. “I didn’t know how to stop them.”

“That sounds ominous. Who are we talking about?”

Larissa glanced over her shoulder, toward Taryn’s office. “They’re two old ladies. Eddie and Gladys. I’ve seen them around town. I want to say they’re harmless, but I have a bad feeling about them.”

“I’m sure they want the company to sponsor something,” Taryn said, moving down the hall. “A race or maybe they bowl.” Or maybe they wanted the boys to make a personal appearance. Three former football players as good-looking as Kenny, Sam and Jack had a way of drawing a crowd.

She walked into her office and saw the two older women waiting by her desk. One of them wore a floral print shirt over slacks, while the other had on a bright yellow velour tracksuit.

“Good morning,” she said with a smile. “I’m Taryn Crawford. How can I help you?”

“I’m Eddie,” the woman in the tracksuit said. “This is Gladys. We want to talk about the basketball game.”

Taryn wasn’t sure what she meant. “Which game?”

Gladys and Eddie exchanged a look. If Taryn didn’t know better, she would swear they were silently saying they thought she would be brighter than this.

“The one in the morning. With the guys from the bodyguard school. It’s not every morning. We want to know which mornings it is.”

Taryn sat down behind her desk. “Is the noise bothering you?”

The women exchanged another look. Eddie sighed and spoke more slowly. “We don’t live nearby, so no, it’s not a bother. We want to know when they’re going to play so we can come watch.”

“The basketball game the guys have in the morning. For exercise?”

“Yes,” Eddie told her, her tone exasperated. “That one. Half of them take their shirts off. It’s shirts and skins. We want to watch.”

Taryn felt her mouth start to drop open. She carefully closed it, then nodded. “Of course,” she said, not sure if elderly women watching seminaked guys play basketball was impressive or creepy. “If you want to give me your email address, I’ll send you their schedule.”

“That would be very nice,” Eddie said as she and Gladys rose.

Taryn escorted them out, then returned to her office. As she sat down she thought about telling the guys what was happening. She shook her head. Better for them to find out on their own.

* * *

ANGEL WATCHED AS Taryn pulled in next to his SUV and parked. He’d offered to drive her to the launch spot of their kayaking adventure, but she’d had an unexpected teleconference with a client.

“Sorry,” she said as she locked her car and walked toward him. “There’s a crisis in the world of sushi restaurants. At least for three of the ones we work for. Sasha Andersson, the actor, claimed a bout of food poisoning, which could be death for a restaurant. Fortunately he was simply sick from too much drinking and has since apologized, but there’s still damage control.”

Angel nodded as she spoke, more interested in what she wore than what she said. Once again she’d done her research. She had on waterproof running pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a long ponytail and she’d tucked a baseball cap under one arm. She’d already zipped her small wallet into a pocket on the side of her leg and did the same with her car keys.

“Sorry about the sushi crisis,” he told her.

“You couldn’t care less,” she teased.

“I could care a little less, but not much.”

She moved close before raising herself on tiptoe and lightly kissing his mouth. “Not into celebrity gossip?”

“Nope.”