When We Met (Fool's Gold #13)(54)

She was pretty, with brown hair and brown eyes. She grabbed the hem of her Brew-haha T-shirt and pulled it off. Her jeans followed. Taryn told herself not to judge the plain cotton bikini briefs and unadorned white cotton bra. No doubt Patience was a much better person than she could ever aspire to be.

Patience took the black dress from Isabel and pulled it on. It was a simple tank style—fitted, with princess seaming and a hemline a good six inches above her knee.

“Nice,” Taryn said. “It fits you great.”

“It’s tight.” Patience tugged on the hem. “And short.”

“Sexy,” Taryn corrected. “You need a good push-up bra with that and a matching thong.” She grinned. “Only don’t let him see you getting dressed or you’ll never make it to dinner.”

Patience drew in a breath. “You’re right. I’m busy with Brew-haha and he’s busy with CDS. We have Lillie and everything else that keeps the household running. I need to be more adventurous.” She turned to Isabel. “I’ll take it!”

“You should,” Isabel told her with a grin. “It’s Taryn. She inspires us all.”

Taryn stepped out of the red dress and put it back on the hanger. “I want this for sure. Now for the snake-trimmed suit.”

Isabel sighed. “I won’t even ask if you have shoes worthy of this. I’ve seen what you wear.”

“If I don’t have the right shoes, I’ll buy them. I love clothes and accessories and I don’t care who knows it.”

“I want to borrow your attitude for a night,” Patience told her. “Justice wouldn’t know what hit him.”

“Neither would Ford,” Isabel admitted.

“Your men love you the way you are,” Taryn reminded them. “And my attitude comes with a price.”

She smiled at them, as if joining in the joke, but she knew she was telling the truth. She copped an attitude because sometimes it was all she had to get her through. She’d learned early not to trust people and that the world could be a cold, unfeeling place. Pretending a strength she didn’t always have had gotten her through more than once. Now that she was in a place where maybe she could relax a little, she didn’t know how to let down her guard. At least not all the way.

She’d made friends here, and she was grateful. But every now and then she looked at women like Patience and Isabel and envied them. They were loved and could love in return. What would that be like? Not the friendship kind of love, but the romantic kind. Where she was the most important person in someone’s life. Where there was commitment and sharing and the promise of always.

For a second she thought about Angel, then shook her head. She knew better. He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking and she’d been through too much to ever see the romance of wanting what she couldn’t have.

They were good together, the sex was impressive and he didn’t get on her nerves. For her, that was plenty and she was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

* * *

THE INVITATION HAD been very clear. Young ladies were to wear dresses to the mother-daughter tea. Taryn took that to mean that older ladies were to do the same.

She appreciated the chance to wear her Naeem Khan print organza cocktail dress. She’d fallen in love with the off-the-shoulder black-and-white-print silk dress a few months ago and hadn’t figured out where she could wear it. Okay, sure, it might be a little over-the-top for the event, but she didn’t care. The full skirt made her feel like an extra in a 1950s movie. She’d slipped on her Pedro Garcia Candela sandals and twisted her hair up in a bun. Simple pearl studs finished off the look.

All the groves were seated around tables in a smaller ballroom at Ronan’s Lodge. The girls were dressed in spring pastels. Some mothers had also gone all out, putting on pretty dresses. A few were in jeans and shirts. Humorously, there was only one man at the event. A dark-haired gentleman with gray eyes and a pained expression.

Taryn walked up to Angel. “Stop looking for the exit,” she told him.

He cleared his throat, then fingered the collar of his black shirt as if he wanted to loosen his tie. Only he wasn’t wearing one.

“I’m not,” he told her.

“You’re about thirty seconds away from succumbing to flop sweat.”

Those cool gray eyes settled on her. “I’ve never had flop sweat in my life.”

“There’s a first time for everyone.” She turned and smiled as Regan walked over, her mother in tow.

The pretty seven-year-old beamed at Angel. “This is my mom. Mom, this is Angel, our Grove Keeper. And Taryn. She’s helping him.”

Regan’s mother was probably a couple of years older than Taryn and had on a wide wedding band. But that didn’t stop her from batting her eyes at Angel.

“Regan says so much about you,” she gushed. “You’re doing a wonderful job with all the girls.” As she spoke, she put her hand on Angel’s forearm. “If you need any extra help, you can give me a call.”

If Angel hadn’t looked so nervous, Taryn might have been annoyed. Since when had she become invisible? But her irritation was tempered by amusement.

“Oh, look,” she said, glancing toward the entrance. “Felicia is here. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t leave me,” Angel said through gritted teeth.