Taryn laughed. “Future what? Are you serious? Is this weapons training for teenaged boys?”
“I wish. I figured it was a program for young men.” He hesitated for a second, making her think there was something he wasn’t telling her, but then he continued. “There are stages. Acorns, Sprouts and so on up to Mighty Oaks. The adult is called a Grove Keeper.”
Angel was a big, scary guy. He had scars and secrets and he was the last person she could imagine volunteering to work with children. The fact that he had done so made her even more interested in him.
“Good for you. So what’s the problem? I can’t imagine you being worried about a bunch of unruly boys.”
Angel shifted on his seat. “They’re not boys. They’re girls. Little girls. My Acorns are seven-year-old girls. They earn beads for activities. The keeper handbook is pink.” He began to speak faster and the tone of his voice tightened. “They’re supposed to learn regular stuff like knots and map reading, but there are also beads for face painting and families and...” He paused, then shuddered. “The feminine cycle.”
Taryn was relieved their drinks hadn’t arrived yet, because if she’d been drinking, she knew she would have started to choke. As it was, laughter spilled out of her. “The feminine cycle?”
He glared at her. “It’s not funny.”
“Oh yeah. It is.”
“We don’t talk about the cycle this year.”
“Good, because seven seems a touch early. So you’re a Grove Keeper.”
Their server arrived with a vodka martini for her and a Scotch for him. She asked if they would like more time before ordering. Taryn nodded through bursts of laughter.
“I tried to get out of it,” Angel admitted when they were alone. “What the hell was Mayor Marsha thinking? I don’t know anything about little girls. I’m in over my head. Denise Hendrix is in charge of the council. The first season is only two months and she wants me to see it through. Then I can quit and they’ll find someone else for the girls.”
“So it’s only for two months. That’s something.”
He glared at her. “I’m not a bead kind of guy.”
She lightly stroked his upper arm, mentally giving herself a moment to enjoy the warm skin over impressive muscle. “You’ll be fine. They’re just little girls.”
“Easy for you to say. You used to be one.”
Physically, Taryn thought. She’d been a child. But emotionally, she’d never been young. She hadn’t had the chance. In her house, being vulnerable meant dangerous things. She’d grown up fast and had learned the value of remaining invisible as much as possible.
But that wasn’t Angel’s problem and it wasn’t as if she was going to tell him about her past. No one knew about her father—not even Jack.
He reached for his Scotch, then put it down. “That’s why I got the SUV. In case I have to drive them somewhere.”
“Your Acorns?” she asked, her voice teasing.
“I can’t stick one on the back of a Harley. I went online and checked out safety ratings. The Traverse scores high and it seats eight.”
“You sound like a soccer mom.”
“Go ahead. Kick me when I’m down.”
His concern was sweet, she thought. A depth she wouldn’t have expected. He was—
A thought popped into her mind. A crazy one that was so unexpected it might work for both of them.
She angled toward him. “Jack and Kenny are wooing a new client,” she told him. “Living Life at a Run. They’re a smaller version of REI. More equipment than clothes, but a nice get for us. We’ve never been big in retail.”
“Congratulations.”
“We don’t have them yet, but if we can get them, it would be great. The owner is a big outdoor guy. He’s insisting on a camping weekend with the principals of the company before signing on the dotted line.”
Angel’s gaze locked on her face. “Camping?”
She nodded.
“You?”
“I know. It’s not my thing.”
He chuckled. “Wait until he gets a look at your shoes.”
“I know I won’t wear heels camping.”
“How much else do you know?”
“Next to nothing. But you’re a big outdoor guy.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “You want to go camping?”
“No, I want to offer you a deal.”
His hand moved from the table to her bare knee with lightning speed. She felt the warmth of his skin on hers, along with a distinct clenching between her thighs. And this was all without him even trying. Imagine how much trouble she would be in if he put a little back into it.
She knew she had to clear her throat before she could speak. Rather than let him know how he affected her, she took a sip of her martini, then gave a little cough.
“I’ll help you with the Acorns and you help me get proficient enough with the outdoors so I can fake my way through a camping weekend,” she said.
“Done.”