Taryn knew the basics of his past. How he’d grown up in a close, athletic family. His father had played professional basketball in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Sam’s mother had been an Olympic equestrian. His sisters had excelled at sports, but Sam, the youngest, had been sick as a kid. Sick enough that he never got to do anything.
He hadn’t blossomed until college, when he’d discovered he could kick a football better than nearly anyone else. She’d often wondered if the transition from nerdy to hunky had been difficult. With the sudden availability of all kinds of women had come the issue of trusting them. Something Sam had learned the hard way he couldn’t always do.
Now she studied him before asking, “Are you seeing anyone?”
He glared at her. “What? No. And I’m not talking about it.”
He was nothing if not private, she thought. “Don’t bite my head off. I was just asking. It’s been a while. Unless you were seeing someone and didn’t want us to know.”
“Yeah, because that went so well last time,” he muttered.
He had a point there. In his previous relationship Sam had been determined not to let anyone know he had a woman in his life. Unfortunately he’d kept so quiet, not even Kenny and Jack had known. So when the woman in question had come on to them, they’d seen no reason to refuse her invitation. Individually, of course. It was only later they’d discovered they’d inadvertently slept with their best friend’s girl.
Sam had dumped her as soon as he found out and had accepted his friends’ apologies. But since then, he’d stopped seeing anyone. Taryn understood why but believed Sam needed to get over it. When he wasn’t in a relationship, he could get solitary and moody.
“Everything okay with the business?” she asked.
“Fine. We have a good client base and they mostly pay on time.” He drew in a breath. “About the client party,” he began.
“What? I thought I made my position clear. You three decided to have a big party. I didn’t want to. I’ll be there, I’ll smile and I’ll look pretty, but that’s it.”
Sam held up both hands. “You’ve said that before. I’m saying I need help. It’s a big event to plan. I need some recommendations for someone to help me. And not Dellina.”
“Why not Dellina? She’s great. And suck it up, big guy—she’s the only one in town who’s qualified. Look, Sam, I don’t know what your deal is with her, but she does good work. We have to support the local businesses so we can fit in.”
“Since when do you care about fitting in?”
“Since always. PR is our business. Town support is a big deal. Bringing in someone from outside would be a mistake and you know it.” She put her hands on her hips. “She’s capable—parties like this are exactly what she does. What is your problem with her?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Then uncomplicate it. If you won’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help. Which means this is now your problem and you need to solve it.”
His jaw tightened. “This isn’t you at your most supportive.”
“Do I look like I care?”
He surprised her by smiling. “That’s the thing, Taryn. You always care. Unfortunately right now you’re being a pain in my ass.”
“Then my work here is done.”
* * *
ANGEL ARRIVED AT City Hall five minutes before the Grove Keepers’ meeting. He’d meant to do a little research online beforehand—find out about the organization and who was in charge. But a last-minute redo of an obstacle course had kept him busy for the past couple of days. Still, he knew he would pick up what he needed in plenty of time for his first grove meeting.
For a second he hesitated, thinking about what it would be like to work with the boys. Would they remind him of Marcus? Despite the time that had passed, he thought about his son every day. Missed him every day. Sometimes the memories were easy and sometimes they were hard, but they were always there.
Marcus would approve of this, he reminded himself. He’d liked hanging out with his friends.
Angel took the stairs two at a time and headed for the conference room on the second floor. He walked in and found most of the chairs around the long table were already full. Of women.
Angel paused in the doorway as he worked the problem. It made sense that moms would want to get involved with their sons, he thought. They were the traditional caretakers of the family. But shouldn’t there be a few dads in the mix, too?
It wasn’t that he didn’t like women. They were great. His wife had been a woman. But this was different. Teenaged boys needed a male role model.
A woman in her fifties walked up to him and smiled. “Hello, Angel.”
It took him a second to recognize Denise Hendrix—Ford’s mother. He’d had dinner at her house a few times since moving to town last year. She was friendly and well loved by her six children.
“Mrs. Hendrix,” he said. “Nice to see you.”
She shook her head. “Please, don’t call me Mrs. Hendrix. That makes me sound older than I already am. I’m Denise.”