When We Met (Fool's Gold #13)

She didn’t want his help. She wanted to be somewhere else.

“I can do it,” she told him, trying to shake off his touch without releasing her hand. An impossible task.

“It’s only a few inches away,” he told her.

Her arms and shoulders ached from the unaccustomed movements. Her legs were starting to tremble. Around them monkey children shot up to the top at lightning speed, calling out to each other as they went. She caught sight of an older couple making way more progress than she was.

“I’m going to kill Kenny and Jack,” she muttered, stretching out her arm so she could grab on to the next hold. “I’m going to get something heavy and beat them with it until they—”

Gravity was an unforgiving mistress. One second Taryn had a firm hold on the bumpy outcroppings of the fake rock, and the next she was falling toward the earth. She had no idea how far the floor was or how much it was going to hurt when she hit. Well before impact, she suddenly jerked to a stop as the guy holding her line stopped her fall.

The harness cut into her crotch, her hips and her side. She felt burns in places that should never see that much friction. She dangled, arms and legs frantically crawling for purchase, and then she was moving again, more slowly this time until she touched the floor.

The second she was on her feet, her spotter rushed toward her.

“You okay?” he asked. “You didn’t scream. When people fall, they always scream.”

Taryn felt the adrenaline rush flood her and knew it was just a matter of time until she was looking for a quiet place to curl up and be sick. Angel expertly lowered himself and hurried toward her.

“You all right?”

She nodded, determined not to let anyone see she was shaken. “I slipped and now I’m fine.”

He looked at her for a second, then nodded. “Climbing isn’t your sport.” He reached for the clip on her harness.

She stepped back. “No. I’m going to do it again.”

“Taryn, you fell.”

“I know. Now I have to get to the top of the stupid thing. Then I’m never coming back.” She glanced at the guy holding her line. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

* * *

ANGEL REMEMBERED THE first time he’d seen Taryn. She’d been in one of her suits and ridiculous high heels. She’d been crossing the street, not in a crosswalk. With her confident stride, long dark hair and steady gaze, she’d captured the attention of every man who could see her. He’d half expected one of those movie car crashes because when Taryn was around it was difficult to see anything else.

She ran a successful business, so he knew she had a brain, but until this morning, he hadn’t realized she had a spine made of steel. Because despite the fall, she’d gotten back on the rock wall and made her way to the top. It hadn’t been fast or elegant, but she’d made it. When she’d reached the floor again, she’d unfastened the harness, stepped out of the straps, walked over to a nearby trash can and promptly thrown up.

She had the heart of a warrior, he thought as he pulled up in front of her house. She did the job and handled the fear later.

He parked his Harley and walked toward her door. They’d agreed to go to the Spring Festival after they’d both gone home and changed clothes.

The front door opened and Taryn stepped out. She’d replaced her skintight workout clothes with skintight jeans. Nice, he thought, wishing she would turn around so he could look at her ass. Studying the curves had a way of anchoring him in a very good place.

She had on some kind of sweater set. The bottom piece was tight enough to be interesting, but not so tight that she couldn’t fit in with the families that would be flooding downtown. He glanced down and saw that for once, she’d put on boots with only a two-inch heel.

She followed his gaze and raised her eyebrows. “Making sure I’m able to walk long distances?”

“Didn’t know if you expected to be carried.”

“I understand the concept of the festivals,” she told him, checking to make sure the door was locked then joining him on the walkway. “I’ve been to several. I bid on casseroles at the Great Casserole Cook-off in February.”

“Did you win?”

She tilted her head. “Seriously? You have to ask?”

“Apparently not. How are you feeling?”

“Fine. I had a couple of crackers and sparkling water. I’m better.” Her mouth twisted. “Is this the awkward part of the conversation where I point out I brushed my teeth when I got home?” She looked away. “I can’t believe I threw up. Or fell. Or any of it.”

“You thought you were going to crash into the floor. You reacted. We’ve all done it.”

“Fall off a fake mountainside? I don’t think so.”