by Rachel Hauck
“Not yet, no.” He kept his gaze on the menu.
Taylor turned to her mom. “Get him to a doctor.”
“He’s fine, Taylor. He’s fine.”
“Dad, has this happened before?”
Grant held up his hand. “Taylor, I’ll make an appointment.”
“Okay.”
Will paid the check, and while Bobby helped the ladies with their coats, he whispered to his brother, “I’m going to say hello to Taylor.”
Bobby shifted his gaze to the Hansons’ table. “Don’t make a big deal. You may not want to marry Mia, but she’s your date for tonight.”
Will held out his hands. “I’m going to say hello to an old friend.”
“Then we’ll come with you. Elle, Mia, let’s go over and say hello to the Hansons.”
“Who?” Mia asked, louder than Will thought necessary.
“Some friends of ours,” Elle said, smiling, buttoning her top coat button. “Taylor was my maid of honor.”
The small blond smiled. “Really.” She slipped her arm possessively around Will’s.
He winced. If he moved his arm, it would be rude to Mia. But the last thing he wanted clinging to him when he greeted Taylor for the first time in ten years was another woman.
“Good evening, Grant, Trixie,” Bobby said, shaking Grant’s hand as the man stood. “Hello, Taylor.”
“Elle! Bobby. Hello.” Taylor rose from her chair.
Will stood back, watching. Her movements were sublime and controlled. He saw a confidence in her words and manner that must have come from living and working in New York.
“Where’s her husband?” Mia asked, squeezing his arm.
Will looked down at her. “She’s not married.”
“Oh,” Mia said sharply.
“You have to come over and see our youngest, Max. He’s four already,” Elle said to Taylor.
“Already? And I’ve never met him.”
Will noticed her fingers tapping against the tabletop.
“Taylor’s at the house; give her a call, Elle,” Grant said, waving his cheese-covered bread in the air.
“Dad, please.” Taylor faked a chuckle. “They don’t want to know all about me.”
Will recognized the look on her face. Apparently, New York hadn’t removed all of her anxieties.
“Of course we do, Taylor. You’ve got to come over before going back to New York. Please.”
“Well, all right.” Taylor pressed her hand against the back of her neck, then glanced around at Will.
He waved and moved away from Mia’s grip toward Taylor. “Good to see you.”
“You’re looking well,” Taylor said, giving him a slight hug. The clean, subtle scent of her perfume lingered around him. Their eyes met for one brief moment.
“You look amazing,” he said.
“Ahem.” The blond dynamo sidled up next to Will.
He stepped aside. “Taylor Hanson, I’d like you to meet Mia Wilmington.”
“Nice to meet you.” Taylor offered her hand.
“Likewise.” Mia slipped her arm through Will’s.
Will smiled to cover his uneasiness. “Mia teaches at the high school.”
Taylor grinned, revealing perfect, white teeth. Will thought she was beautiful. “Very nice.” She shifted her gaze toward him.
He knew that look, too. Her “Adams, what are you doing?” look.
Grant brought up the topic of Lambert’s Furniture, which took Will and Bobby off in conversation. Elle and Trixie were engaged in a discussion about the last ladies’ Bible study, and Mia studied Taylor, arms folded.
Will kept one ear in the conversation with Grant, one listening to Mia and Taylor.
“What do you do?” Mia asked, her voice too sweet.
“I’m a principal CPA,” Taylor said with control and grace.
When the waiter appeared with their salads, Will said, “Bobby, we’d better go.” He smiled at Taylor. “Good to see you.”
She tipped her head. “You, too. Nice to meet you, Mia.”
Elle reached for a final hug. “It’s been too long.”
“I know,” Taylor said.
Will was the last one through the door. Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes met hers as she watched him leave.
Late Wednesday afternoon Taylor zipped her overnight bag shut and set it by the bedroom door. She slid a few extra résumés inside her leather portfolio. Tomorrow afternoon she would fly to Charlotte, North Carolina, for her first post–Blankenship & Burns interview.
It had been a week since she left the prestigious New York firm and the life she had built in New York. Mechanically, Taylor moved through the days, one goal in mind: Find a new job.
When Conrad & Associates called Monday morning, her hopes soared.
It had been a long time since she’d interviewed, so as Taylor changed from jeans to running sweats, she mentally rehearsed answers to possible questions.
Conrad: Where do you see yourself in five years?
Taylor: Contributing to the overall vision and goal of Conrad and Associates. Moving toward becoming a partner.
Conrad: What are your greatest strengths?
Taylor: Vision, determination, decisiveness, and ability to focus. Follow-through.
Conrad: Weaknesses?
Taylor: Don’t know when to quit, sometimes. Stubborn.
She tied on her running shoes, laughing at herself. Perhaps she’d learned a lesson from the Blankenship experience after all. She was stubborn. More than she knew.
Conrad: How can our firm benefit from hiring you?
Taylor: I have more than ten years’ experience in finance, accounting, and investments. I worked at one of the world’s most popular financial magazines, Millennium. I’m smart, quick, and an excellent team leader or player, whichever is needed.
Taylor left her room and jogged down the back staircase into the kitchen.
Conrad: Tell us why you left Blankenship & Burns.
“Are you going for a run?” Trixie looked up from where she peeled potatoes, her housedress covered with a wide apron. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.”
“Yes.” Stretching her legs, Taylor regarded her mom. Trixie Hanson was more like a fifties housewife than a twenty-first-century woman.
Outside, Taylor scanned the orange and red horizon, colored by the setting sun. She drew a deep breath. Cold air, scented with the fragrance of fall leaves, filled her lungs.
Running down Main Street, she kept an even gait, gradually hitting a rhythm, and the anxiety over her life eased.
She would never admit it out loud, but being home—being in White Birch—was like coming home to her best friend. It rejuvenated her, made her focus and remember what’s important in life. Odd to think that a town could be her friend. But in many ways, White Birch was just that.
With each step, Taylor reviewed the last few years. Rapid promotions—adding ten or more hours to each workweek. Almost engaged to Ryan Logan. She thanked the Lord many times for saving her from that relationship.
It had been two years since her last vacation. She and her girlfriend, Reneé, had spent a week in Paris. Ugh, that was exhausting. Reneé had refused to sleep. She had to see everything; the sunrise, the sunset, the Louvre, every mile along the Seine River …
She made a mental note to call Reneé with an update. When Taylor had decided to leave New York, she called the movers, then Reneé.
“Why are you leaving the city? Leave the firm, but stay here,” Reneé had insisted with a girlfriend’s whine.
“Girl, you know I love you, but it’s time for me to move on. Crazy as it seems, quitting has freed me. Now I can see what the rest of the world has to offer.”
The feeling of freedom and confidence lasted until Taylor ended the conversation with Reneé and drove out of the city limits. She had battled with anxiety ever since.
But her God was a God of peace. She had to trust in that.
Taylor let her thoughts wander over the past week—d
inner with her parents at Italian Hills, her father’s pale complexion, Pastor Marlow’s Sunday sermon, seeing Bobby and Elle, and Will …
Will Adams. Handsome as ever, strong and quiet, speaking volumes with his blue eyes and rakish smile …
Taylor wondered about Mia. Though very beautiful, she didn’t seem like Will’s type. But what did she know after all these years?
Mia certainly seemed into him. Taylor remembered the woman’s possessive hook on Will’s arm.
As she headed down Main Street and rounded the corner toward Milo Park, she heard the echo of a bouncing ball then the rattle of a hoop.
She slowed her pace as she neared the courts, stopping to peer through the chain-link fence.
Catching her breath, she couldn’t help but grin and challenge the lone player. “You still any good at one-on-one?”
three
Will turned at the sound of her voice. In a million years, he couldn’t have suppressed his smile.
He dribbled in place, regarding Taylor from midcourt. “I’m still better than you, if that’s what you mean.”
“You think so?” She rounded the fence, tall and angular in her baggy red sweats and faded university sweatshirt. It hung loose about her torso, and the ends of her short, chestnut-brown hair pointed in all directions.
Will laughed. “Any day of the week and twice on Sunday.” Harry bounded across the court, his tongue dangling from the side of his mouth.
“And who is this?”
“Harry.”
Taylor leaned forward and met him nose to nose. Harry surprised her with a sloppy kiss.
She wiped her nose with the edge of her sleeve and winked up at Will. “Harry, please. We just met.” Harry nudged her again, and she buried her face in the fur around his neck. “He’s beautiful.”
Will watched with a grin. “He’s an Old English sheepdog rescue. Some family in Maine couldn’t care for him, so I adopted him a couple of years ago.”
Taylor looked up. “He’s a lucky dog.”
“I believe you challenged me to a game of one-on-one.”
She stood straight, her hands on her hips. “I believe I did.”
Will motioned to the side of the court. “Harry, go lie down.”
The big dog hesitated, looking between Taylor and Will as if he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to obey his master or stay with his new friend. “Harry, lie down,” Will repeated, pointing courtside.
This time, Harry obediently loped over to the grass.
Will tucked the ball under his arm. “Look at you. One face lick and you’ve captured the affection of my dog.”
“Seems to be my only talent these days.”
Will raised a brow, wondering what that was supposed to mean, but let the comment go. He bounce-passed the ball to her. “Ladies first.”
“I haven’t played in a while,” Taylor said, dribbling, squaring off in front of Will.
“Whoa now, no excuses. You challenged me, remember?”
She laughed, and he remembered how much he loved the melody of her merriment.
With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she taunted him. “Is that a spare tire around your middle, Adams, or have you put on a few pounds?”
Will guffawed and patted his belly. “Nothing spare around here, Hanson. You worry about yourself. Having worked a desk job and all, I’m wondering if you have the stamina for this.”
On the heels of his last word, Taylor drove the ball up the middle of the lane. Will moved into her path, but she shoved past him for an easy layup.
“I believe that’s one for me and nothing for you.” She tossed him the ball then turned in a circle, waving her index fingers in the air. “One to nothing, one to nothing.”
Will shook his head, bouncing the ball. “You are so going to be humiliated, Hanson.”
She made a funny face. “We’ll see.”
He’d forgotten how competitive she was. “First player to twenty-one wins,” he said.
“What’s the prize?” Taylor asked, leaning forward, her hands on her knees.
The word came without thought but from the depths of his heart. “Dinner.”
Taylor stood upright, her jaw jutted forward. Will thought he saw a flicker of … what? Anger? Doubt? Resistance?
After a second, she said, “What about your girlfriend, Mia?”
Will squared his shoulders. “She’s not my girlfriend. Just a dinner date.”
“Does she know that?”
“I made no promises, if that’s what you mean.” Will bounced the ball once.
“All right, then, dinner,” Taylor said.
Will smiled with a nod, then jumped into motion, running around the top of the basketball key. “Good. I hear your New York salary can afford to take me to a nice place.”
Taylor tried to block, but he ran around her for an outside jump shot. An easy point.
Taylor took the ball, recounting the score. “One to one.”
“Getting scared yet?”
“No, are you?” she asked with a sideways smirk.
Actually, yes—afraid of falling in love before the game is over.
Taylor made another basket, then he made two as daylight faded to dusk. Will played hard, but as always, Taylor proved to be a worthy competitor.
When the score reached fifteen to sixteen, Will called for a time-out. “I need a little water.”
Taylor smiled. “I just ran five miles, and you don’t see me begging for water.”
“Overachiever.”
“Jealous.”
To Will, the whole scenario was like a picture out of their past. After high school, most of their friends married or moved away from White Birch, so Will and Taylor spent nearly every college summer break together, shooting hoops, taking long runs, or grabbing pizza at Giuseppe’s. Then, during Bobby and Elle’s wedding festivities, their relationship had spiked to a new level.
“Let’s go.” Taylor clapped her hands, the sound reverberating in the cold air.
Will took a last sip from the water fountain and dribbled the ball back to the court. He made an easy shot before Taylor was in place.
“Cheater,” she protested with a laugh then took the ball and shot over Will’s head.
“Sixteen to seventeen.”
Will watched her, bemused. “Still think you can win?”
“Just make your shot, Adams. Stop stalling.”
When the score tied at twenty, Will had the ball. “This is it. No backing out now. You’re buying me dinner.”
“Unless you lose.” Taylor bounced side to side on the balls of her feet. Will chuckled at her energy. Sweaty and red-faced, yes, but she looked incredible anyway.
He drove up the lane, then stopped. Taylor rushed him, arms up, going for the block. Will aimed at the basket and released the ball right over her head.
Swish. The ball sank through the net.
Taylor flew past him, moaning as he scored the winning point. He retrieved the ball, tucked it under his arm, and slapped Taylor with a high five.
“Nice win, Will.” She ran her hand through her hair, making it stand even more on end.
“Hey,” he said softly, “you don’t really owe me dinner.”
“A deal’s a deal.”
Will walked over to the side of the court where his jacket lay. “Tell you what, dinner at my place. You bring the trimmings; I’ll provide a couple of steaks.”
Taylor hesitated. “I was thinking more like Giuseppe’s.”
“All right. Tomorrow?”
“I can’t.” She offered no more information.
“Friday night?”
She nodded. “Friday night. Six?”
He agreed, motioning for her to walk with him to his truck. “Harry, let’s go, boy.” Will whistled and the dog came running.
Taylor stopped short and squinted at her watch. “Dinner.” She tapped the face of her timepiece. “Mom said it’d be ready in an hour.” She looked up at Will. “I’ve been gone almost two hours.” She tu
rned to run home.
“Taylor, Taylor! My truck’s right here.” Will ran after her and grabbed her by the arm. “I’ll give you a ride.”
He opened the passenger door for her then climbed in behind the wheel. Thirty seconds later, they were cruising down Main Street toward the Hanson home.
He cleared his throat and glanced sideways at her, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t sports related.
In the soft light of the dashboard, he could see the glow on her face from exercise and the cold.
How is it that it felt so right to be with her? After so many years … It astounded him.
“How long is the whiz kid in town?” he ventured in a casual tone.
She smiled but looked away, out the window. “Not long.”
Will nodded once. With the energy of basketball fading, Taylor’s bright countenance seemed to fade. “Does your dad still call you the whiz kid?”
She nodded, looking over at him. “He does.”
“The whiz kid,” Will repeated.
“Anyone good at computers, math, or numbers is a whiz kid to him.”
“Oh, no, but you’re not just good at computers and math. You’re the volleyball star, basketball MVP, debate team captain—I think you even won a spelling bee or two.”
“Okay, okay.” She held up her hand for him to stop.
“The whiz kid,” he whispered with a light laugh.
She gave him a smirk. “And who, driving this truck, was Mr. Football and the baseball home run king? Hmm? I believe he also got all As, all four years of high school.”
Will laughed. “Touché. I had a few Bs. Maybe.”
Taylor said, “Right,” with a snort. “Now you’re Mr. President.”
“How’d you know about me taking over Lambert’s Furniture?”
“Dad. Who else?” She picked at the fuzz balls on her sweatpants. “Do you like it?”
He grinned. “I do. Bobby oversees sales. Ethan is over production.”
“Guess you got what you wanted.”
He sensed her gazing at him. “I guess so.”
“You told me you wanted to run the family business the night of Bobby and Elle’s wedding, remember?”
He remembered. The night he let her go. “When we were at the covered bridge.”