by Roni Loren
“Of course you do.”
“What?” Kincaid asked, glancing her way. “What is that tone?”
“Nothing. You’re my favorite friend,” Taryn said solemnly.
Kincaid groaned and shoved her in the shoulder. “Hush, sleepy professor. Let’s go get you another coffee, and then we’ll go make nice with the vendors. I have a surprise for you.”
“I hate surprises.”
“You’ll like this one.”
A little while later, Taryn followed behind Kincaid, her friend’s unicorn tail swishing with purpose and her smile bright as she greeted the different vendors. Taryn sipped her coffee and joined in the conversation when needed, but since Kincaid was much better at chitchat and schmoozing than Taryn could ever hope to be, she let her friend do her thing. But when they moved toward the vendor on the far end of the row, Kincaid sent Taryn a conspiratorial look over her shoulder. “You’ll like this next one.”
Taryn tossed her cup in a nearby trash can and lifted her brows. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.” Kincaid smiled and cocked her head for Taryn to follow her.
When they reached the end of the row, two guys were sitting behind a fold-out table draped with a banner, but Taryn couldn’t tell what they were advertising because her attention was stuck on the men: a cute guy in a fedora dressed as Indiana Jones and a broad-shouldered blond with aviator sunglasses and a flight suit—Iceman from Top Gun.
Well, hello.
Indiana stood up quickly, almost knocking off his fedora, and grinned widely when he saw Kincaid. “Hey, there’s my favorite unicorn.”
Taryn didn’t have time to register that Kincaid already knew Indiana because Iceman’s head swiveled toward Taryn, pinning her with a look. She almost stumbled backward, something about the guy’s focused attention making her breath catch for a moment. His lips parted as if he were going to say something, but then he snapped them back together and looked down at the table where brightly colored flyers were spread. That was when she saw the familiar man bun.
Her belly flipped. Oh shit.
The guy from the bar. Lucas.
“Rivers,” Kincaid said to the dark-haired guy with delight and grabbed Taryn’s elbow. “This is the friend I was telling you about.”
Taryn dragged her attention away from Iceman—no, Lucas—and managed to smile at Rivers. “Um, hi?”
“Hi,” Rivers said, putting out his hand and shaking hers firmly. “Kincaid was telling us all about you. Said you’re going to be her partner in crime at the gym.”
Taryn took a second to process what he’d said, her peripheral attention on Lucas and his obvious discomfort. “Partner in crime?”
Rivers tilted his head. “Yeah. At our adventure gym. Gym Xtreme.”
“Gym X-what?” Taryn asked, all the words bumping into one another and not lining up right.
Kincaid made a happy little sound and turned to Taryn. “Xtreme. This is your surprise,” she announced. “I was checking out the tables earlier, and Rivers here gave me quite the pitch. You should see the pictures of the place. There are curved walls and balance beams and trapeze things and foam pits!”
Taryn finally looked at Kincaid, whose face was full of expectant excitement. “Foam pits?”
“Yes! To fall in. Pools, too. Because the obstacles are really tough. It’s like that TV show—the warrior ninja thingy. But it looks like so much fun, and this will be way better than that 10K training we were supposed to do,” Kincaid said, talking fast now. “And way less boring.”
Taryn blinked at the emphasis Kincaid had put on the last word, and everything finally clicked. Oh. This was Kincaid’s fun diet. She wanted to sign Taryn up for some crazy-ass gym. God help her for having friends with good intentions. “Look, I don’t know…”
“Oh, come on, Taryn,” Kincaid pleaded. “Don’t say no yet.”
“Taryn?” Lucas said, finally acknowledging their presence. He pulled his aviators off and frowned her way.
“Yes,” Kincaid said with a smile. “Taryn, this is Lucas. He’ll be one of the trainers.”
But Lucas was still looking at her. “The other night, you said your name was Jamez.”
Kincaid’s head whipped around, her wide-eyed gaze colliding with Taryn’s. “The other night?”
Taryn winced and gave a little nod. “We’ve already met. I ran into Lucas at a bar I stopped in Friday night.”
Kincaid’s eyes got even bigger. She looked downright thrilled at this new development and was for sure going to ask a million questions, but she held them for now. “Well then. I guess you’ve already met your trainer.” She turned to Lucas. “Her middle name is Jamie. So sometimes we call her Jamez.”
Total lie. Her middle name was Mariah. But in that moment, Taryn loved Kincaid with a depth of friendship she almost couldn’t put into words. Kincaid was pushy and bossy and sometimes overwhelming. She was also a woman who would cover for her friends, no questions asked, because she believed without a doubt that if one of her friends was lying, they had a good reason.
“Good to see you again,” Taryn said, managing to sound calm. “But I’m not sure about this whole training thing, Kincaid. This looks a little above my pay grade.”
“Oh, don’t be intimidated,” Rivers said, handing Taryn a flyer. “We have a program for beginners, and we lead you through everything at your own pace. It’s challenging stuff but not impossible. The hands-on training is really what makes us stand out above the others.”
Hands-on training. With Lucas. Who looked like sin wrapped in hotness dipped in oh my God in that flight suit. The thought sent warm tingles over her skin, but Lucas was also the guy who’d bailed as quickly as he could when she’d turned her back to answer a phone call. And he hadn’t exactly looked happy to see her today.
“I’ll give it some thought,” Taryn said to Rivers, hedging. “I’m a college professor and my schedule is so crazy right now that I’m not sure I could fit in something this involved.”
Rivers smiled, undeterred. “Well, first workout is free. So all I ask is that you ladies give it a shot. If it’s not for you, nothing lost.”
Kincaid put her arm around Taryn’s shoulders. “I’ll work on her. I’ve been told I’m quite persuasive.”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” Taryn said with a smirk.
Lucas started to laugh and then covered it with a cough, pulling his face into a serious look again.
Kincaid gave Taryn a wink. “We better head back to the starting line and get ready for the race. You boys running?”
“Nah, we’re going to hand out flyers to the crowd,” Rivers said. “I think this one is going to be more fun to watch from the sidelines anyway.”
Kincaid put her hands on her hips. “Chickens.” She dipped her head. “Be honest. You fear the unicorn.”
“Hell yeah, we do,” Rivers said. “That horn is pointy.”
“No costume for you, Jamez?” Lucas asked, his voice low, like it was just for her ears.
She met his stare. “Nope. I’ll be bait today.”
Lucas’s gaze skimmed over her at that, and Taryn felt every bit of it like a stroke to her skin. “Be careful out there.”
“She’s not worried,” Kincaid said. “She was a track star. She’ll probably outrun us all.”
“‘Was’ being the operative word. In high school. That was a long time ago,” Taryn said. “Now I just run numbers in research studies, but my goal is to not embarrass myself.”
“Solid plan,” Lucas agreed.
“We’ll be cheering for y’all,” Rivers added.
“Thanks,” Taryn said, and they exchanged quick goodbyes before Kincaid hooked arms with her and dragged her toward the starting line.
To Kincaid’s credit, she waited until they were at least a few yards away from the guys before she pounced.
“Jamez? What happened Friday night? I talked to you Friday night! You said nothing.”
Taryn shrugged. “It was after.”
“You must tell me everything,” Kincaid demanded gleefully. “Right now. Tell me what happened with the American Gladiator. Please say it was sordid.”
Taryn lifted a brow. “So sordid. You told me to think outside the box, and I just went for it. I saw Lucas from across the room, and we couldn’t resist each other. I told him I had one night to give and that we shouldn’t exchange real names. There was kissing in the dark and body shots on the bar and then hot, sweaty sex against a wall in the alley.”
Kincaid gasped. “Really?”
“Oh my God. No!” Taryn laughed. “Do you know how dirty alleys are? And have you met me?” She turned to her friend and put her hand out. “Hi, I’m Taryn, the forensic psychologist who studies murderers and would never go anywhere alone with a strange man from a bar.”
“I hate you,” Kincaid said with a pout. “I thought you’d had some kind of epiphany and had just gone for a wild and crazy night. That guy”—she jerked her thumb behind her—“would so be worth a one-night stand with no names exchanged. He’s probably got those abs you could bounce quarters off of.”
Taryn’s mind went there for a moment—Lucas without a shirt, quarters bouncing—but the thought overwhelmed, and she quickly dragged her focus back before she got too warm. She frowned. “Do you think the quarters would actually bounce? The physics of that seems off.”
Kincaid grinned. “Well, you should totally test that theory! Like immediately. He was checking you out. You should—”
“Slow your roll, girlfriend,” Taryn said before Kincaid went completely off the rails with this fantasy date. “I asked him out for coffee that night, and he turned me down, all right? It’s a no-go.” She folded the flyer Rivers had handed her and tucked it in her pocket. “As is this gym idea. I love that you’re looking for fun things for me to do. You’re sweet. But I don’t have time for that kind of commitment. Maybe once I get this pilot program rolling, we can figure something out. But I’m just too buried right now.”
“But on Friday you said—”
“Friday was a temporary moment of insanity after a bad date,” Taryn interjected, her lack of sleep making her words come out sharper than she intended. “I was signing checks I couldn’t cash.”
Kincaid’s mouth curved downward. “But, honey, you need a break more than anyone I know. This”—she waved her hand, indicating Taryn’s general person—“is not healthy. You really do look run down.”
“I’m fine.”
“T—”
“I’m fine. I promise. You don’t have to worry about me, okay?” She reached out and gave Kincaid’s hand a squeeze of thanks. “Now come on, we’ve got some running to do.”
But as Taryn headed to the starting line, she felt like she was running from more than people in crazy costumes. And she didn’t feel like she could run fast enough.
Chapter
Six
Shaw tried to ignore the laser-focused stare Rivers was shooting his way as the two women walked off. He slipped his aviators back on and let his eyes follow Jamez/Taryn the college professor as she walked off with her friend, but he couldn’t fully enjoy the sight of her curvy body and those strong, smooth legs. He frowned.
She looked so different from Friday night when he’d first seen her onstage. She’d obviously been intimidated that night, not used to being onstage, but she’d also been alive with an almost raw energy and a passion that had infused every lyric. Today, none of that energy had been there, and she’d seemed like a different person. He recognized today’s look because he’d been there. Not just tired but hollowed out. Running on empty.
He’d almost told her to sit down, relax, and watch the race with them, but he couldn’t do that. He’d walked away for a reason Friday night, and that reason hadn’t changed. But damn, he’d wanted to reach out, pull her aside, and ask her why she looked so utterly exhausted.
“You went to a bar on Friday night and met a woman?” Rivers asked, incredulity dripping from his words. “Who the hell are you and what have you done with my friend? No, I don’t care. Leave him wherever you’ve chained him up. This new guy is an improvement.”
Shaw sniffed derisively and casually flipped Rivers the bird. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I had a beer. She lost her shoe near my table. I helped her find it. End of story.”
“So you saved her in her time of need and now you may be training her? This is breaking news, dude.”
Shaw sent him a sharp look, though it was probably lost behind the aviators. “I will not be training her. She said herself that she doesn’t have time. And…Friday night, she looked at me like she might’ve recognized something about me. I can’t risk her figuring out who I am. Even if she did come to the gym, I couldn’t be her trainer.”
Rivers groaned. “You’re being paranoid. She was sneaking glances at you the whole time they were standing here. Ever thought that maybe she was looking at you funny because she likes what she sees?”
Shaw couldn’t let his mind go there. He couldn’t let himself take a step down that path. Couldn’t let himself picture asking the pretty woman with the guitar out for a drink and some conversation. It would be a game of lies. Tell me about your family. Where’d you grow up? Have any siblings? What’d you do for a living before the gym? He gathered a stack of flyers and shoved his chair back. “The race is about to start. Let’s go stand on the sidelines and watch.”
“Shaw—”
“It’s Lucas,” he said firmly. “Let’s go.”
Rivers grunted but shifted his chair back, almost flipping it over into the grass, and followed Shaw toward the racecourse. They handed out flyers along the way as they ventured closer to the middle section where ropes lined the path. The organizers had laid out obstacles and hosed down areas to make them muddy. There were low walls for people to climb over, large metal tubes for tunnels, a shallow pond, and various natural hills that would make the run a fun, albeit messy, challenge. Shaw almost wished he’d signed up to run, but he’d rather be working to get people interested in the gym. This really was an ideal crowd to advertise to—people who liked a little adventure with their exercise.
Plus, he couldn’t do the run and risk being on camera. One of the local news stations had been lurking around all morning, interviewing people and taking shots of the course. They’d now set up near the finish line, so he made sure to find a spot far from that area.
“This looks like that zombie run we saw on TV,” he said when Rivers stopped next to him at the ropes.
“Yeah, but no zombies at this one. Or anything scary.”
Shaw glanced his way. “No?”
Rivers didn’t look at him, but his jaw flexed. “Yeah. It’s a charity run to benefit victims of violent crimes. Costumes that could trigger stress or anxiety are banned.”
Shaw’s stomach wrenched. “This is for crime victims?”
Rivers’s throat bobbed, revealing that he knew exactly how Shaw would feel about that. “Yeah. Great cause.”
Of course it was. It was a fantastic cause. One Shaw would have happily given money to—anonymously—and then stayed the hell away from, had he known. He was ready to bail right now. They’d done what they’d come to do. But before he could step back, the starting countdown for the runners sounded over a loudspeaker, and the people behind him surged forward, crowding him against the ropes to get a view. There was no starter pistol, but when the word go was announced, the crowd erupted in cheers.
Shaw was trapped where he was for the moment and gritted his teeth, turning back to the race. In the distance, the crowd of uncostumed runners had started racing down the course. They’d get a head start before the chasers were released. Jamez/Taryn was somewhere in that crowd, and Shaw found himself looking for her. It was too hard to tel
l from that distance, but after a few minutes, the runners were getting closer and he caught sight of her pink bandanna and glasses. She was moving pretty fast and looked to be right behind the first set of runners. Mud puddles splashed around her as she charged forward.
Another announcement was made, and the costumed group was released. The crowd cheered again, and the runners started looking over their shoulders, which meant a few tripped and landed in the mud. Taryn was still running hard, her white shirt already splattered with dirt. A few yards behind her, a guy dressed like a Super Mario brother was hot on her trail. Shaw found himself yelling for her to run faster, to watch out behind her, to lose him at the pond. But if she heard Shaw, she didn’t look his way. As she got closer, he could see determination on her face, legs pumping forward, and her chest heaving with breaths. The woman was on a mission.
He murmured Come on, come on, come on under his breath as she created a little distance between her and her pursuer. She’d made some progress, but when she got to the edge of the muddy pond, she put one foot in the shallow water and then fell to her knees hard.
Shaw flinched as if he’d been the one who’d fallen, and gripped the rope in front of him. “Come on, Taryn, get up. You’re okay.”
But she wasn’t. She didn’t get up. One of her hands plunged into the water to brace herself and the other went to her chest. Super Mario snapped off one of her flags, which were now floating in the water, and kept running. But Taryn didn’t move. Her shoulders were heaving too hard, and Shaw’s stomach dropped.
“Something’s wrong,” he said over the noise of the crowd.
“What?” Rivers asked, his attention on a different part of the course.
Taryn fell forward onto her elbows, and Shaw didn’t hesitate. His body seemed to know what to do before his brain caught up. He ducked under the rope line and took off at full speed, dodging princesses and superheroes and all manner of characters as he made his way to her. His blood rushed in his ears, and he scanned the landscape for a medic.
