Climbing Heartbreak Hill

by Joselyn Vaughn

  He scanned the desk in front of him and found the woman’s nameplate tucked against the back of her flat screen. Tara Mansfield. He’d always had an affinity for the name Tara. Once, he’d had a run-in with a girl named Tara. It hadn’t ended well on his end. He hoped she’d fared better, but he never saw her again. Every time he met another Tara, he remembered the gorgeous blonde and wondered what had happened to her.

  This Tara was certainly eye-catching. He’d been staring at her curvaceous figure like an adolescent schoolboy. Couple that with the sunlit blond hair and sapphire blue eyes, and she had all the makings of a swimsuit cover model.

  And yet, she was here in sleepy, old Carterville in an accounting office filing 1040s, wearing an ill-fitting business suit. There was probably a story behind that. He shifted his leg again. Her story was probably as pathetic as his own.

  The office around him had been recently renovated with warm purples and fresh greens. Despite the functional look of the chairs, they accommodated his tall frame. Off in a corner was a small, primary-colored table with a box of toys and puzzles arranged next to it. The room Tara had led the couple into was glassed in. Blinds could be drawn to create privacy. She’d left the blinds open, and while he tried not to be obviously nosey, his attention kept focusing on how she interacted with the couple.

  He could tell she was struggling to hide her nerves. As she talked to them, her hands flitted from straightening the papers in front of her to slipping the clasp of her necklace to the back of her neck to situating the mouse on its pad. He supposed having a boss about to deliver a baby upset one’s schedule.

  It wasn’t long before she ushered the couple out, assuring them there wouldn’t be a problem completing their returns before the fifteenth. She waved them out the door, clutching the handle as it swung closed. Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath, then she plastered a smile on her face.

  “Sorry about the wait. We should be able to get your information sorted out before the next customer arrives.” Tara tugged the front of her beige jacket down, then walked around her desk.

  “No problem.” Ryan slid his foot to change the position of his knee. Boy, the sucker ached today. His mom would say rain was coming. His ibuprofen was wearing off. He dug in his pocket for the pill bottle he hadn’t left home without in the months since his injury. “I’m supposed to stay off my feet anyway.”

  “Knee surgery?” Tara asked as she settled into her seat. Her gaze wandered the desk as if trying to assess where they had left off.

  “Torn ACL. I see the surgeon again next week. Then I can get rid of this puppy.” He tapped the brace straining the nylon fabric of his pants.

  “You said you were staying with your mom, right?”

  “Yeah, while I’m on the injured list I can’t stay at the track club.” He didn’t add that the club had released him because they didn’t think he would ever recover to competitive shape again. The club physician had claimed his knee was completely shot. But the surgeon had been optimistic, and he clung to that, despite the hesitancy of his physical therapist.

  "Yvonne’s a good friend of mine. I’m surprised we haven’t met before.” Tara picked up a pencil and made a note on her calendar.

  Ryan knew exactly what she was talking about. His mother’s hobbies would keep him on the other side of the country even if his training hadn’t. Although if he had known Tara was in her circle of matchmaking prospects, he might have been more open to her suggestions.

  The door flew open and an older woman blew in. Almost literally. Her sneakers barely scraped the carpet, and her ivory hair stood on end. “I heard Leslie’s in labor and came right from my aerobics class.”

  Ryan pondered the ability of news to travel so quickly. He hadn’t seen Tara make any phone calls. Perhaps the Tenaples had passed on the message.

  “Hi, Minnie,” Tara said. “They left barely twenty minutes ago. Did Mark call you?”

  “No. Beulah Tenaple’s senior aerobics class is right after dance aerobics. She said Mark came flying in here like his butt was on fire.”

  “Leslie had a few contractions, but it is way too early. I’m sure the doctor will get them stopped. I didn’t know you were taking aerobics classes.”

  “It sounded like fun. Gotta keep in shape, you know how it is.”

  Ryan doubted Minnie and Tara socialized in the same circles, but there wasn’t anything wrong with Tara’s figure. He appreciated the time and effort it took to keep one’s self in good shape.

  Minnie’s gaze swung to Ryan, and he suddenly wished he had ducked out the door as soon as she came in. She gave him a once-over thorough enough to read the numbers off his credit card through his wind pants. Her evaluation stopped at his left hand and her eyes narrowed.

  “And I see you’ve met this fine young man." She winked at Tara.

  Ryan pushed himself to stand and held out his hand. “I’m Ryan. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Grant, right? Yvonne’s son. Your mother and I have been friends since she moved over from Glendale. I heard about your knee. Wasn’t there some big race coming up?”

  Ryan’s stomach churned just thinking about it. He was going to miss it. Again. “The Boston Marathon. It’s in four weeks.”

  “Isn’t it the one with the nasty hill everyone cries about?” Minnie smoothed her hair down.

  “Heartbreak Hill,” Ryan murmured more to himself than to the women. It had broken him last time. This year was supposed to be different. He trained to be a contender, but his body had failed him before he’d set foot on the course.

  “Well, your mom enjoys having you around.” She clapped her hand on his arm, then squeezed the muscles. “I guess running does something for your arms too.” She raised her eyebrows, and Tara shrugged. Minnie reached for her hip. “Shoot. I left my phone at the exercise class. I’m going to make some phone calls. If Leslie’s at the hospital, I’ll skedaddle. And let you two get back to…” She waved her hand and Ryan wondered what she expected them to get back to besides his tax return. His imagination supplied some ideas, but they weren’t on the agenda.

  Tara waved as Minnie bounded through the door.

  “My mom’s friends are so weird,” Ryan said when the door whipped shut.

  “I think they’re a hoot.”

  “They’re something all right.” Ryan lowered himself back into his chair. “What else do you need from me?”

  Tara had been sorting through his papers and looked up at him. Her lips dropped open. Glossy and red, inviting him in. Their eyes met, and Ryan forgot the rest of the world existed. His mom’s friends could sing karaoke naked around them, and he wouldn’t have noticed. The only thought in his mind was tasting her lips.

  The phone rang and Tara grabbed it. “Knotts Accounting.” She made some notes on her calendar, then hung up. “Sorry about that. This time of year is crazy. Maybe we should get your information taken care of before we have another interruption.” The alluring facade had disappeared. She turned to her computer and poised her fingers over the keyboard. “How are you filing?”

  “Single, no dependents.”

  A smile tickled the corners of her mouth. Ryan’s eyebrows quirked. So she was interested, was she? His time in Carterville might not be as tedious with Tara as a companion. A little fling would help take his mind off his knee and the possible prognosis.

  She ran through the rest of the basic questions, then sorted through his papers.

  “You have a couple 1099s here, but I don’t see any expenses related to them. You can deduct business-related expenses and lower your tax obligation.”

  “Really? The guy I had do them last year didn’t say anything about it.” Ryan straightened in his chair. With his sponsorships dried up, any extra cash would be helpful.

  “You may be able to file an amended return. If you’re interested, I can look into it, but not until after the fifteenth.”

  “Cool. What kind of expenses should I have?”

  “Anything r
elated to these 1099s. What did you get them for?”

  “I have a couple mobile apps that are selling pretty well. The distributors send 1099s for my portion of the sales. I’m working on something that might appeal to college students.”

  “Okay.” Tara tapped her manicured fingertip against her mouse. “Internet service, manuals, professional memberships, graphic artists. You can even deduct part of your rent or mortgage, but that gets more complicated. I can give you a sheet with the specifications.”

  “Wow. Thanks. That could save me a lot of money. I got nailed last year.”

  “No problem.” She yanked open a drawer and pulled out a checklist. She passed it across the desk to him. He grabbed the edge, tempted to reach closer to her hand to see if her skin was as silky as it appeared.

  “You must have been doing this for a while to come up with all that so quickly.”

  “Actually this is my first year preparing returns.” But her face brightened at the compliment. “I’ve been working with Leslie for three years. I guess I’ve picked up a few things.”

  “When will my return be ready?” He wanted to see her again. He wondered if he would need an excuse to see her sooner. She was smart enough to have a decent conversation, but fun enough to keep everything light and easy. He’d be moving back to the training camp after he got the go-ahead from the surgeon. He didn’t want to start a serious relationship and be distracted from his recovery and training.

  “I’ll have it ready for you to review in a couple days. If it’s acceptable to you, we can e-file it, and you should have your refund in about two weeks.”

  “If there is one.”

  “Well, yeah.” She rolled her eyes as if that was obvious. The blue sparkled mischievously.

  “Maybe we could go for coffee some time.” A couple of days was too long to wait. He had to find someone to spend time with besides his mother.

  “I’m free tonight, but for the next few weeks, I’ll be tied to my computer.”

  Chapter Three

  Ryan was still figuring out how to maneuver himself out of his vehicle without torquing his knee. Each time he made it out, he was thankful that he’d destroyed his left knee and not his right. If it had been his right, he wouldn’t even be driving yet. He was also glad he’d rented an SUV instead of the compact hybrid he’d considered. With a taller vehicle, once he maneuvered his long legs out from under the dashboard, all he had to do was establish his balance and stand up. It didn’t require much bending and weight-bearing on his bad knee. Trying to unfold himself from behind the wheel of a small car would be a nightmare of pain.

  He prepared himself to stand when a car angled into the slot in the next row. The driver looked like Tara, but he wouldn’t have pegged her for driving a nondescript sedan. It couldn’t have shocked him any more to see her climb out of a minivan with a passel of kids swarming around her. He’d expect her to drive a convertible or something sporty, not a decades old sedan with an exhaust leak.

  She climbed out of the car and slung her purse over her shoulder. She must have switched out her heels because he doubted the lime green gardening clogs had been intended to coordinate with her suit. Her car door creaked menacingly as she slammed it. Looking down at her watch, she muttered something and dashed in his direction.

  Ryan stood tentatively and turned to shut his door. Tara looked as good as he remembered. Curvy and vivacious, even with the clogs. He let go of the door, and pivoted on his good leg to reach for the rear door and his crutches. Tara appeared around the back of his vehicle, her head bent, searching in her purse. Before he could call out a greeting, she slammed into him. The next thing he knew he was flat on his back on the pavement with a head of peroxide-blond hair tickling his nose. He coughed as the oxygen that had been slammed from his lungs trickled back in.

  The body on top of him squirmed invitingly and lifted away, but she still straddled his legs. He missed the pressure and warmth on his chest immediately. Tara had raised herself to her knees and was shoving her hair away from her face, but her weight shifted to his bad leg and stars swirled in front of his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m running late for a—” She glanced down at his face, then she realized her position and who it was connected to. “To meet you.” She scrambled off him and shoved the fabric of her skirt back in place. “I didn’t hurt you worse, did I? Let me help you up.” She held out her hands.

  Ryan blinked, waiting for his personal planetarium to fade. It took a moment to ignore the sensations of Tara’s body being pressed against his and evaluate whether any damage had been done. Eventually the stars dissipated, and he was able to take her hands and pull himself onto his good leg. He leaned against his vehicle and brushed off his running pants. “No. I’m fine. No worse than before.”

  Tara wiped some grit off her pantyhose, but that appeared to be more effort than it was worth. A hole circled her knee and runs raced away from it. She hadn’t skinned her knee, but sometimes the road rash appeared later. He knew that from tripping and skidding across the finish line in his last 5k. He checked her other leg to see if there was any damage there. It looked okay. Excellent to be precise.

  Tara followed his gaze and saw the mess of her pantyhose. “Drat. My last good pair.” She pulled at the fraying nylon and twisted her leg to evaluate the damage. “I’m going to have to ditch these.”

  Whatever her exercise regimen, it did great things for her gams. He limped around to open the door to his vehicle and remove his crutches. The pads were murder on his armpits, but it felt so much better to get the weight off his leg.

  “Shall we?” He tilted his head toward Bart’s Sandwich Shop.

  She smiled. Lines deepened around her mouth and at the corners of her eyes. “I’d be delighted. I’ll duck into the ladies’ and ditch the pantyhose.”

  Ryan watched her thread through the tables to the restroom, trying to suppress the image of her peeling the filmy material down her legs. If his brain kept traveling in this direction, he’d have to contemplate another variety of motions with his bum knee.

  She returned before he’d had a chance to peruse the menu. “I hope you don’t mind if I grab a sandwich too. I came straight from the office. We had a non-stop stream of customers this afternoon.” She settled into the seat across from him. Bart’s was hopping with the Friday evening rush. Ryan had secured a two-seater in a corner by the front window as a busboy brushed the remnants of the last diners’ meals into a plastic tub.

  Local sports memorabilia peppered the walls. Team photos, pennants, game balls and pom-poms all in Carterville Hornet gold and green. Not a hint of the Glendale red and gray, but that was to be expected. Home-town restaurants didn’t celebrate the archrivals, even if they were only the next town over.

  “It’s that time of year, isn’t it?”

  Tara folded the menu to the burgers. “Yeah and everybody in town heard Leslie has gone into labor. The phone rang constantly. It took me twenty minutes to get through the voice mails. At least a dozen people came in with 1040EZs. Those were a snap to do, but I had to electronically file the extra returns, and the system is always slow on Fridays.” Tara shook her head. “I hope Leslie just had a few contractions and can be back to work on Monday. I don’t want to be there by myself for the next two weeks. It’s too overwhelming.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He ordered a coffee from the circling waitress. “If you’re eating, I think I’ll get a sandwich too.” The waitress took their orders and left them with a basket of french fries. Ryan took one look at the grease-soaked paper lining and decided to pass. While his training was curtailed, he had to be especially careful about his weight. It would be too easy to add pounds without exercise to burn the calories.

  Tara dipped a couple fries in the ranch sauce and popped them in her mouth. “I really shouldn’t, but I’m really going to. It will make up for breaking the heel off my shoe when I stepped off the curb.”

  Ryan laughed.
He couldn’t help it. “I wondered about the clogs.”

  Tara slid her foot out to the side of the table. “They don’t exactly go with my outfit.”

  “How’d you end up in Carterville?” Ryan asked. Tara’s eyes jerked up to his and he realized it was an abrupt question. He’d been spending too much time with his mother. Asking nosey questions of perfect strangers. Another reason hanging out with Tara would be good for him. He would recover his social graces.

  “I moved back about three years ago. Once I’d left, I never imagined I’d come back. I was on to bigger and better things.” Her voice trailed off wistfully.

  “What did you dream of doing?” Ryan leaned back in his chair. Her story sounded so familiar, except his stay wouldn’t be permanent.

  Tara faced him, yet she stared over his shoulder. “I was steps away from being a cheerleader in the NFL.”

  Ryan started. A professional cheerleader? Perhaps Tara was out of his league. Cheerleaders barely gave him a second glance. They only had eyes for the football or basketball team, not the track team.

  “I made it through the first round of auditions, and the coach and choreographer were encouraging. I thought I had it in the bag. Then they showed us the new uniforms.”

  To Ryan’s eye, any outfit from dental floss to a garbage bag would have been drool-inducing on Tara. Though her current coordinating suit and jacket disguised her figure, it would be impossible to dismiss the curves underneath it. While the blouse was conservatively cut, it wasn’t prudish by any means. “I don’t see how that would be a problem.”

  “They wanted perfection and I have some scars the skimpier uniforms wouldn’t cover. I don’t care if people see them, but it’s so frustrating to have a little wrinkled skin ruin my career. They said I could try out again the following year, if I had plastic surgery to fix the scars, but I had enough surgeries after the car accident.”