Her dad nodded sharply. “A walk sounds good. Love the way the air smells. Clean and fresh.”
“Walking is out of the question.” Mom looked down at her skyscraper Louboutins.
“Fine.” Tara handed the bottles of wine in the cloth carrier and Sherlock’s leash to her father. “We’ll drive.”
She went back inside to get her BMW out of the garage, realizing she hadn’t driven her car in weeks. It probably needed to be started anyway.
After they were all loaded up and on their way, she glanced in the rearview mirror. “Ryan just remodeled his home and it’s beautiful, Mom. You’ll especially appreciate all the cherry wood built-ins. And the view of the lake is stunning.”
Before her mother could answer, they were at Ryan’s house and heading down his drive.
“Is this it? A cabin?” Her mom’s forehead knitted as much as a forehead could when filled with Botox.
Tara pulled around the back of the house and parked in front of Ryan’s garage. “Just wait. You’ll see.”
As they unloaded from the car, Ryan walked onto the deck and lifted a hand in silent greeting. He wore a snowy white dress shirt, charcoal slacks, and black leather loafers. She’d never seen him in anything but his uniform and running gear. The action hero she’d been starstruck by the day before had nothing on Ryan, even with the bruises on his face.
When he smiled, her heart nearly stopped.
Tara’s mom whispered, “See? Ryan changed for dinner too. And so handsome on top of it? I think I like him already.”
Ryan walked down the steps from the deck then slipped beside her as she tried to wrestle Sherlock out of the car.
“You drove?” he whispered.
“Don’t ask.” She leaned down and tugged on Sherlock’s leash, but he dug his paws in, refusing to budge. It was another new situation, and her puppy was already at his limit for the day. “Come on, Sherlock. Please?”
After a few more failed attempts and much pleading, Ryan reached in and scooped Sherlock up. “Let’s go, bud.”
Her dog wagged his tail and happily snuggled against Ryan’s chest, already best of friends.
“Little traitor.” Why hadn’t she just done that? She was totally off her game.
“You have to show a dog who’s in charge, Tara.” He turned and smiled at her parents. “Eva. Joe. Nice to see you again. Please, come in.”
As she followed behind them, Tara glanced down at her slacks and silk shirt, suddenly feeling way underdressed on top of being a hot mess on the inside.
Ryan stuck his hand out to help her mother up the two steps. The deck held a stainless steel outdoor kitchen and a seating area. He’d set the table for them to eat outside.
She expected Ryan to follow behind her parents but he waited for her too, holding out his hand to help her up the steps as well.
“Thank you.”
He leaned close and said, “Relax.”
The easy way he held Sherlock, along with the amusement dancing in his pretty eyes, helped some of the tension drain from her shoulders. But the last thing she should do is relax around the snoopy, cutie-pie sheriff. “I’ll try.”
After a tour of Ryan’s house, Tara and her parents settled into comfy outdoor furniture on the deck, drinks in hand, under the shade of a giant pine tree. Ryan tied Sherlock’s leash to a nearby post and then joined them.
Her mom glanced out across the beautiful, still lake, and sighed. “This is just a lovely spot, Ryan. Thank you for having us.”
Just when Tara thought things might actually go well, her mother added, “And I’m so glad Tara will have a date now for her sister’s wedding next weekend. We look forward to having you stay with us.”
What was her mother thinking? Everyone coming to the wedding had known her since she was a kid. No way would she be able to keep her secret from Ryan if he came.
“Mom, Ryan is on duty on Saturdays. He won’t be able to come.” She stared at her mother, hoping she’d catch a clue.
Her dad said, “He’s in charge. I’m sure he can switch things up.”
Had her parents both lost their minds?
She turned to Ryan and shook her head ever so slightly. “You really can’t, right, Ryan?”
Ryan stared into her eyes for a moment, as if debating, then said, “I wouldn’t miss it. Thanks for inviting me.”
She wanted to kill all three of them!
“I need to help Ryan with dinner. Please excuse us.”
Ryan shook his head. “It’s all—”
She didn’t let him finish; instead she grabbed his arm and pulled. “We’ll be right back!”
He was in trouble. Tara’s stiffened posture left no doubt as Ryan followed her into the kitchen. But he wasn’t giving up the perfect opportunity to get to the bottom of whatever Tara was hiding. Between staying with her parents and talking to the other guests at the wedding, he’d surely get closer to the truth.
She spun around and crossed her arms. “Why did you say yes to the wedding? What could you have possibly been thinking?”
Probably time to dig deep and have a real conversation. “I just found out I have a job interview in Denver on Saturday. I was going to be there anyway.” The e-mail should have been good news, but something hadn’t sat right with him ever since he’d read it.
“Oh.” Tara cocked her head, no longer looking like she wanted to hit him again. “You’re thinking of leaving? Bored with small-town life?”
“No. More like I’m tired of dating and ready to have a family. I’ve pretty much exhausted my choices around here.”
“And Sarah married Ed. Your sisters told me all about that.” Tara shot him a “you’re not telling the whole story” look.
“My sisters have big mouths.” He didn’t want to discuss Sarah, especially with Tara. “And it was your idea for us to play a couple for your parents.”
Tara opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. He could practically see the wheels spinning inside her brain.
She finally said, “Yes. But just for tonight. Please tell them you can’t go.”
“I’m not your type. Okay. I get it.” That she wasn’t interested in him hurt. She’d awoken feelings in him he wasn’t sure he’d ever have again.
“No! That’s not what I meant.” Tara looked him straight in the eyes for a change as she laid a soft hand on his forearm. It was the first time she’d touched him without jerking away.
Progress.
She leaned in, her warm breath feathering lightly across his cheek. “You would be just my type, if I wanted to have a type right now, but I don’t. This doesn’t have anything to do with you, Ryan.”
It took all he had not to smile at the “just her type” comment. Her eyes told him she was telling the truth about that. “Then what does it have to do with, Tara?”
Panic lit her face as her arms crossed again. “It’s . . . umm . . . complicated?”
That only served to pique his interest.
He walked to the fridge and pulled out the marinating chicken. “Why’d you tell your parents we were dating in the first place?”
Tara moved to one of the barstools and sat down, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t want to tell you the truth, but I really don’t want to lie to you either. Is pleading the fifth an option? Or just plain insanity, perhaps?”
He chuckled as he went back to the fridge and pulled out the fixings for a salad. “I’d prefer the truth.”
“Well, if we’re stating our preferences, I’d prefer to help with the salad and drop the rest. Salads are the one thing I know how to cook. Please?”
Ryan washed his hands, and then the lettuce, as he debated his next move. He wanted to stay invited to the wedding.
He’d drop the topic for now. Because he just figured out what he was going to ask Tara for in return for the favor. And she w
asn’t going to like it.
After he dumped the clean lettuce in a bowl, he handed Tara all the vegetables and feta cheese crumbles, along with a knife. “Can an insane person be trusted with sharp objects?”
She laughed. “I have a diploma on my office wall that says so.”
He’d never get tired of seeing how her whole face brightened when she smiled.
It may have been all the wine or Tara’s imagination, but Ryan just got better looking as the night wore on. The man could cook, remodel a house, and put up with her parents for an entire evening.
She locked eyes with Ryan as he returned outside to serve them dessert. When he sent her a warm smile, the thought of confessing their lie to her parents dissipated. He’d make a pretty damn great boyfriend—if she were in the market.
Tara laid a hand on her full stomach and sighed at the chocolate-covered strawberries Ryan slipped in front of her. “While I should, I can’t say no to these.” She glanced over her shoulder and met his amused gaze as he refilled her wineglass. Again. He’d been doing that before she could get to the bottom all night, fueling her pleasant little buzz. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
Ryan took his seat at the head of the table. Had it been accidental that his arm had brushed hers repeatedly throughout their delicious meal? Worse, that she hadn’t minded?
He’d been such a good sport to put up with her parents and their nonstop questions during the feta-and-artichoke-heart salad. During the margherita chicken, grilled asparagus, and roasted potatoes, they’d talked about how Casey had run the hotel since she’d graduated from high school, and about Meg getting married soon. When her parents asked how he’d beaten his brother out for a first date, Tara wanted to slink under the table. Even worse, they’d drilled him relentlessly for details about his parents.
Ryan and his brother and sisters hadn’t had an easy life, with their mother dying so young in a car accident and then having the gruffest, scariest man Tara had ever met for a father. Ryan explained it was why he could cook so well, that he and his brother and sisters had taken turns making meals since they were tall enough to reach the stovetop.
It always warmed her heart whenever he and his siblings talked about each other. While there was usually teasing involved, there was so much love between them. The side bonus of the evening was that it’d been the perfect way to learn more about his past without him thinking she was interested in him enough to ask on her own.
Ryan had kept his answers short, but she guessed it might have set a record for the most words he’d spoken in a single day.
Her mom took a bite of berry, closed her eyes, and sighed. “Ryan, how is it you weren’t snatched up long ago? What’s wrong with the women around here?”
Tara wanted to give the poor a guy a break, so she answered, “There are more than a few women in town who’d have him, but he doesn’t date locally. The town’s too small and breakups can get nasty.” She glanced at Ryan. “At least that’s what your sisters told me.”
“But he’s dating you?” Her dad’s forehead scrunched.
Crap. That was the problem with fibbing. She was terrible at it!
Before she could reply, Ryan said, “Actually, Eva, I’ve been told by the women I’ve dated that I’m too quiet. And my expectations are too high. Tara owes me a favor, so I’m going to ask her to teach me how to date the right way, from a woman’s point of view, so I can keep her for a change.”
Tara dropped the strawberry that had been on its way to her lips.
Did he say keep her? As in her, or any woman? Probably he meant any woman. “Like dating lessons? You’re serious?”
He nodded. “You said it could be anything.”
She must’ve looked as gobsmacked as she felt, because Ryan’s not-so-innocent smile just widened as she stared at him with her mouth gaping. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She had a hard enough time ignoring her raging hormones around him as it was. She intended to stay single forever, and Ryan wanted just the opposite. He’d be a temptation she didn’t need.
Her mother nodded in approval. “Ja . . . uh, Tara is the right woman for the job, Ryan. Our other daughter, Laura, was sickly as a child. Leukemia. When Laura finally got better, Tara gave her a complete makeover and helped her gain the confidence she needed to shine. Come to think of it, you’re a lot like Brad, our future son-in-law.”
“Then this should work out great.” Ryan ignored her shoe jabbing into his shin and beamed a smug smile at her mom. He finally turned and met her gaze. “We can make your sister’s wedding one of the lessons, right, Tara?”
How was she going to get out of this one? Maybe she should just come clean. Then he’d run the opposite direction. The man wanted the perfect wife, not emotionally damaged goods like her.
Her mom said, “Training them correctly right from the start is smart, honey. I wish I could have done that with your father. Heaven knows he could have used it.”
That started a whole new round of loud bickering between her parents that woke her snoozing pup.
Tara crooked her finger at Ryan. When he leaned closer, she whispered, “We need to talk about this, but before my parents get too far into their battle, I’d better take them home. Leave the dishes. I’ll come by and do them tomorrow after they leave.”
Ryan leaned even closer. The hint of erotic aftershave mixed with the slight scent of chocolate from the strawberries was dangerously sexy.
Damn that wine.
He whispered, “What are you going to do about breakfast?”
She hadn’t thought that far ahead. All she had was cereal and yogurt. Toast and jam wouldn’t cut it either.
“This might be a perfect time to start our lessons. Women love it when you offer to cook breakfast—for her parents too?”
The corner of his mouth tilted. “Breakfast after a date usually doesn’t involve enough clothing to invite parents too.”
She glanced at her parents to see if they’d heard that, but they were still going at it.
The vision that popped into her head of Ryan serving her breakfast in bed in only his boxers was too much to bear. “Right. Uh . . . we better go.”
She hopped up and untied Sherlock’s leash. “Thanks again, Ryan.”
He stood and joined her. “I’ll skip my workout in the morning. Does seven work?”
Missy said he never skipped his workout. “Are you sure?”
“Yep.” He kneeled down to give Sherlock an ear rub. Ryan seemed to like Sherlock as much as her puppy liked him. It sent another little jab at that concrete re-enforced wall around her heart.
“Thanks. I’ll stop by early and help, then.”
Her mother never got up before nine, but the sooner they were out the door and on their way back to Denver the better. Her mom would just have to suck it up. “I’ll call you when I get home so we can talk some more about returning your favor.”
Ryan cringed.
He was probably talked-out for the day. “Never mind. We can talk tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He gave Sherlock one last rub all over. “I’ll drive you home. You’ve all had too much to drink.”
“It’s like a two-minute drive. I’m fine.”
“Not negotiable, Tara.”
A memory of Spencer saying something was not negotiable raised her hackles for a moment, until she tried to count her drinks. Ryan had topped off her glass all night. She’d decided to take Fridays off until her business grew a bit, so she’d indulged more than usual. How many had she had? She’d been nervous and the wine had helped.
When she couldn’t come up with a solid number, her argument died on her lips.
She handed over her keys.
Her parents finally came to an impasse, so they stopped their bickering and stood to join them, and then they all loaded up in the car with Ryan at the wheel.
; Once home and inside the garage, she punched in the security code and then let everyone in. Her parents, now not speaking to each other at all, said goodnight and quickly slipped down the hall to her bedroom. That left her standing in the small foyer, entirely too close to Ryan.
“Well, goodnight.” She reached for the doorknob.
His hand covered hers to stop it. “Something wrong? I thought we had a good time tonight.”
She glanced over her shoulder to be sure her parents weren’t lurking about and then opened the front door. “Let’s talk on the porch.”
They both sat down on the glider and Sherlock decided he’d better sit between them.
Normally that wouldn’t be tolerated, but Sherlock separating her from Ryan would probably be a good thing at the moment. Ryan looked way too handsome for his own good.
She couldn’t tell him the whole truth. Best to give him a modified CliffsNotes version. “I want to be clear on where I stand on this whole dating thing. Even though I’m probably violating girl-code by revealing secrets to the other side, I’ll agree to give you a few tips, but nothing more. I had a bad experience with marriage, and I’m not interested in another serious relationship.”
Ryan frowned. “You don’t want kids? A family of your own?”
The familiar sting of tears whenever she thought about never having a child of her own hit her. Along with memories of how Spencer, in a crazy, misguided, jealous rage, had made certain she’d never have another man’s child.
“Something hap . . . my ex hurt . . .” She stopped and pulled it together. Water under the bridge. She would not give Spencer the power to ruin the rest of her life too. “I can’t have children . . . anymore.”
She glanced at Ryan, whose gaze focused intensely on hers.
“What did he do to you, Tara?”
The honest concern in his eyes made her want to tell him the whole story. To tell someone other than a family member, or a shrink, what it’d been like for her. While she’d been slowly getting better, how she still struggled with it daily. But the fewer who knew the truth, the better. Just in case. Her safety hinged on that.
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