by Cindi Myers
“Does the character have to be quite so goofy?” Bryan asked.
“This is a modern melodrama,” Tanya said. “All the characters have somewhat exaggerated personalities. The character of David is a fool for love.”
Bryan winced. “I’ve read ahead in the script. All his foolishness doesn’t score him any points with his lady love. She ditches him for the serious guy.”
“Just remember, this is theater, not real life.” Angela gave Bryan an encouraging smile.
“That’s right,” Tanya said. “It’s not you playing the fool, it’s your character. If you think about it that way, it makes it less personal.”
“But sometimes theater imitates real life,” Zephyr said. “Like when you were in that soap opera. Didn’t you end up married to the guy who played your boyfriend?”
“Married, then divorced.” Tanya scowled at the dreadlocked slacker/rock star/TV host. Talk about a guy who specialized in playing the fool! “And that has nothing to do with this scene.”
“I was just using it as an example.”
“A bad example.” Tanya turned back to Bryan. “Let’s try it again, but really let yourself go.”
She returned to her seat and the actors took their places onstage. Angela had just opened her mouth to deliver her line when the door at the back of the auditorium banged open.
“Sorry,” Jack apologized, though he didn’t look as if he regretted the interruption in the least.
“Did you decide to take the part after all?” Bryan asked, looking hopeful.
“No. But I thought I could help out backstage.” He looked at Tanya. “If you need me.”
Why did his tone make her think of all the connotations of need? “We can always use volunteers,” she said, forcing her expression to remain neutral.
“I thought you didn’t have time for any extra-curricular activities.” Zephyr shifted his crutches so that Jack could sit down.
“I’m trying to turn over a new leaf,” Jack said.
“Leaving behind your workaholic ways?” Zephyr asked.
“Something like that.”
“You two have to be quiet or leave,” Tanya said.
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Zephyr executed a smart salute.
Jack’s only reply was a smile that sent heat curling up from Tanya’s stomach. She turned to focus on the stage once more. “All right, Bryan and Angela. Let’s take it once more from the top.”
Bryan was no Brad Pitt, but through a combination of Angela’s teasing and Tanya’s scolding, he finally managed to approach the performance she was aiming for.
“That was terrific!” she announced. Terrific for him, anyway. This was, after all, amateur theater, and she strove to keep her perfectionist tendencies in check around the less-skillful players.
She called a ten-minute break and sat down to review the next scene. She’d read scarcely half a page when a shadow fell across her lap. “What would you like me to do?” Jack asked.
Did he intentionally make everything sound like a double entendre, or was that only her overactive imagination at work? “Oh. Um, check with Bill backstage. He might have some scenery that needs repairing. And you can help him organize the props for each scene.”
She looked back down at her script, thinking he’d get the message and leave her alone. Instead, he lowered himself into the chair beside her. “I had a great time the other night,” he said.
“Yes, it was fun.”
“Why don’t we go out again soon?”
She caught her breath. Not that the invitation completely surprised her—they had had a good time together, and that kiss wasn’t the kind of goodbye that signaled there was nothing more to come—but she needed more time to gather her thoughts before going out with him again. Instead, she found herself stumbling. “I don’t know. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Why not, indeed? She sorted through her confused feelings and said the first words that popped into her head. “I’m not sure what you expect of me.”
His eyebrows furrowed in a deep V, the way they had when they were kids and he was concentrating, whether on solving a math problem or making a basketball shot. “What do you mean? I don’t expect anything, except that the two of us might have a good time.”
“We can’t pick up where we left off, as if nothing ever happened.” She refused to go back to those days of teenage angst and raging hormones, not to mention the naiveté that made her believe everything would always work out the way she wanted.
“I know that. Neither of us is a teenager anymore, for one thing.”
“No. You’re much more ambitious now.” As a teenager, Jack had taken for granted that he’d work in his father’s construction business, but he’d never talked about it as something that was really important in his life. The Jack she’d known had far preferred sports and general goofing off to work. Restless and anxious to accomplish great things herself, she’d been impatient with Jack. Only now, having seen the dark side of excess ambition, she looked back on his easygoing nature with fondness.
“You’re one to talk about ambition.”
Touché. “I know. But I had my fill of that.”
“Crested Butte is full of slackers if you’d prefer one of those.”
She shook her head. “No. But I feel like I need to get to know you all over again.”
“Then here’s your chance. We’ll be two strangers, taking things slow.”
There hadn’t been anything slow about that kiss Saturday night. The memory of it still made her heart race. But they’d both been caught up in the nostalgia of the moment. Maybe they were past that now. There was no reason really that they shouldn’t go out. They were two adults, with an obvious attraction to each other. She owed it to herself to explore that attraction further. She needed to get back into the dating scene, so why not start with an old friend?
“All right,” she said. “I’m free Friday.”
“So am I. Where would you like to go?”
“You choose. But no jazz.”
He laughed. “No concerts at all. We’ll do something fun.”
He stood. “I’ll go help Bill with that scenery now.”
“Good. See ya.”
She waited until he was out of sight before she let out a breath and leaned back in the seat. Fun. No strings attached. Jack really had changed. The boy who had been so serious about her—too serious sometimes, she had to admit—had turned into a man who obviously wasn’t capable of seriousness, at least not when it came to a relationship. Why else was he still single, in a town where he was definitely one of the top catches?
That knowledge ought to have filled her with relief. The last thing she wanted to do so soon after her divorce was to plunge into another serious relationship.
Instead, she felt melancholy. What had happened to Jack to make him change so much? Where was the romantic, carefree boy she’d known—the one she’d missed so much over the years?
WEDNESDAY MORNING found Jack hard at work at the site of a new office building south of town. He was balanced on a rafter, shirt off in the blazing sun, hefting joists into place, when his dad’s truck pulled into the drive.
“Hey, Jack,” Andy called up. “You ready to take a break?”
“Sure, Dad.” He steadied the joist and called to the man at the other end of the rafter. “Rico, can you finish up here?”
“I got it, boss.”
Jack swung to the ground and grabbed an old towel to wipe the sweat and sawdust from his torso, then joined his dad at the entrance to the building. “It’s good to see you still keeping your hand in,” Andy said. “If all this goes south, you’ll still be able to make a living.”
“I don’t think there’s much chance of things going south any time soon,” Jack said. “I got word this morning we’ve been awarded the contract for those new condos at the ski area. One of our biggest deals yet.” He couldn’t hold back a grin as he waited for his dad’s reaction.
“That’s great, son.” Andy’s expression didn’t change, staying pleasant as always but not overjoyed or excited or anything out of the ordinary.
Jack’s stomach churned. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Matter? What makes you think something’s the matter?”
“I just told you we landed a multimillion-dollar contract, but you don’t look too thrilled about it.”
“After you get past the first five zeros, it’s all the same to me.” Andy shrugged. “But if it makes you happy, son, then I’m happy.”
Jack tossed the towel aside. “Think of it this way, Dad. You and Mom will never have to worry about having the money to do anything you want in your retirement.”
“Did you think I was worried? I wasn’t. Your mother and I don’t need a lot to be happy.”
Meaning what? That they’d rather he hadn’t brought in the extra business? Why did Jack find his dad so hard to read?
“I’ve been cleaning out the basement the past couple of days and came across a bunch of your stuff from school,” Andy said. “I thought I’d better check to see if you wanted it before I hauled it to the dump with the rest of my junk.”
“What kind of stuff?” Jack asked.
“Some sports trophies. There’s one from that championship basketball game your senior year—looks like a smaller replica of the one that’s in the trophy case up at the school.”
Jack smiled, remembering. “The Regional Championship,” he said. “They gave every player one of those replicas.” Tanya had been at the game, cheering him from the stands, her beautiful face flushed with pride and excitement. He’d been scouted by a few colleges, but had ended up at Western State in Gunnison, working with his dad summers. He’d known he hadn’t had enough talent to turn pro, so he’d set his sights on growing the business.
“I remember that game,” his dad said. “You were the local hero.”
He’d been the hero then, an unlikely one, considering that only two years earlier, he’d humiliated himself in front of half the county his first year on the varsity squad. He’d spent most of the season as a benchwarmer, but the coach had put him in the regional semifinals. The score was tied sixty to sixty. Jack had tried and tried but failed to get the ball, then he drew a foul and was awarded a foul shot.
Here was his chance to score the winning point and prove to the coach that he deserved to be more than a benchwarmer. He’d approached the free throw line with a swagger, mugging for the crowd. He never missed a free throw, but he took his time setting up the shot, going for drama and glory.
Except he did miss. He watched in horror as the ball glanced off the rim of the net. The other team recovered on a rebound and scored the final basket in the last seconds of the game. His team had lost the game—or rather, Jack had lost it for them. The metallic taste of shame lingered in his mouth whenever he thought about it. He’d never wanted to feel that way again.
“Come to our place for dinner Friday night and you can pick up the box,” Andy said. “Your mother’s worried you’re living off pizza and burgers.”
“I can’t make it Friday, Dad. I have a date.”
Now the grin Jack had been waiting for appeared. “A date?” Andy asked. “With Tanya?”
“Yes, but don’t get too excited. We’re just friends. It’s nothing serious.”
“Sure, son. Where are you taking her?”
“I thought I’d take her to Le Bosquet to celebrate the condo contract.”
Andy let out a low whistle. “That’s pretty fancy for ‘just friends.’”
“Tanya’s from L.A. I figure she’s used to fancy.”
“She’s from Crested Butte. She was just visiting L.A. And from what I remember, she liked barbecue and burgers and running around barefoot.”
“Dad, that’s when she was fourteen.”
“I still bet she’s a tomboy at heart. But I’m sure she’ll like the fancy place, too.” Andy patted his son’s shoulder. “Come by for dinner Saturday. You can let us know how the date went.”
Jack started to protest that what happened between Tanya and him was private, but he knew a lost cause when he saw it. He’d never get away without telling his parents something about his evening with Tanya.
After his dad left, Jack returned to work, but instead of the measurements, building codes and blueprints that usually filled his head, thoughts of Tanya distracted him.
Specifically memories of the Tanya his dad remembered—the barefoot tomboy who had literally crashed into Jack’s life the summer he turned fourteen.
Of course, he’d known Tanya Bledso long before then. In a school as small as Crested Butte’s, every student eventually knew everyone else. But before that year, Tanya had been simply one more girl among the annoying and mystifying gaggle who hung out together on the playground or got the best grades in class. Tall for her age and skinny, with strawberry-blond hair and freckles, Tanya had never fascinated him the way Charlene Rice, with her brunette curls and green eyes, had.
But that summer day, Tanya had showed up at the creek where Jack and his friends had hung a tire swing. She came with her older brother, Ian, and some other kids. Cousins of hers, he remembered, who were visiting from Houston. They’d descended on the swimming hole in a noisy group, and the next thing Jack knew, everyone was splashing together, taking turns launching themselves from the tire swing into the water, and trying to sneak up on one another from the cool depths of the creek.
He had dived deep and looked for a likely target in the cold, clear underwater world to swim up behind and pinch. While the victim was still screaming in pain and surprise, the pursuer shot up out of the water and yelled, “Piranha!” then took off. A mad chase followed, both participants splashing wildly.
It was the boys’ favorite game. Girls made the best targets, though half the time they left, crying to their mothers, which took a lot of the fun out of the moment, but didn’t stop the boys from playing.
That day, Jack had spotted the pink ruffled bottom half of a girl’s swimsuit. He wasn’t sure which girl it belonged to; it didn’t really matter. She was in a prime position on the edge of the group, her back to him, distracted by the goings-on beneath the swing.
With long, sure strokes, he shot toward her, determined to reach her before his breath ran out. The pink swimsuit hovered in front of him like an exotic anemone, colorful and tempting.
His arm shot out and he took hold of a good section of thigh and pinched hard. A satisfying squeal reached his ears as he lunged from the water. “Piranha!” he shouted.
“Jack Crenshaw, I’m going to kill you!”
Instead of crying or running away, Tanya turned on him, her fist raised. Jack took off, but she was close behind, clumsily lunging through the water.
Tanya dived and raced after him, her sure strokes quickly gaining ground. Before he had time to react, she had climbed onto his back and was forcing his head underwater. “Say you’re sorry!” she shouted.
“What?” His head went under and his mouth filled with water. She was sure strong for a skinny girl.
“Say you’re sorry!”
“I—I’m sorry!”
His head went under again. Not only was she strong, she was mean.
“Say it like you mean it.”
Okay, this was enough. The third time she shoved him under, he reached out and grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her to him. They came up out of the water together, practically nose to nose. Chest to chest.
Funny. When did Tanya get that kind of chest? And she had hips, too, or at least the beginnings of them.
She glared at him. “Let me go.”
“You let me go first.”
“Why should I?”
“Because you’re the one trying to drown me.”
She let him go and pulled away, crossing her arms under her chest. This only distracted him more, since it emphasized her surprising shape. “I wasn’t trying to drown you,” she said. “I was only getting you back for pinching me.”
He slicked his hair back and squinted at her. Was it his imagination or had some of her freckles disappeared? And her hair wasn’t as orange as he remembered, but the color of autumn elm leaves with gold highlights. Really pretty.
“What are you looking at?” she demanded.
Even at fourteen, he knew better than to answer an incriminating question. “How come you didn’t run away when I pinched you?” he asked.
“Why should I run?”
He shrugged. “Most girls do.”
“Well, I’m not most girls.”
No, she certainly wasn’t. He grinned. “Want to see who can skip a rock the farthest?”
She studied him a moment before answering. “No more pinching?”
“No more pinching. I promise.” He crossed his heart, then spat, sealing the oath.
She smiled, which made her look even prettier. “Okay, but I know I’m going to beat you.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
She didn’t—they tied, and began a friendship that gradually blossomed into romance and first love. Competition had given way to compatibility. They no longer vied to see who could be best, but cheered each other on—he at her plays, she on the sidelines of his basketball games.
But in the end, she had defeated him in the one arena that mattered most. He’d lost his virginity and his heart to her, and it had taken him a long time to regain the latter. He wasn’t about to let it go so easily again.
Chapter Eight
Tanya suspected she might have misread Jack’s intentions for their date when he showed up on her doorstep dressed in a suit and tie. Such attire wasn’t common in laid-back Crested Butte, and she felt decidedly under-dressed in her simple cotton sundress. “Should I change?” she asked.
“No, you look great.”
“Where are we going?” she asked as he held the door open for her.
“I thought we’d try Le Bosquet.”
