If she could discover Chuck’s fraud and get him arrested, and save Leslie’s company, she had shown she was the competent, strong woman she wanted to be. She could be a serious accountant. She’d be filling out those college applications as soon as tax season ended. She was worth it. If Ryan didn’t think that, he could take a swim.
The ball nailed the target with such a clang everyone for thirty yards ducked. Tara caught the gape of surprise on Ryan’s face before he tumbled into the water.
She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears that suddenly threatened. Stepping away from the throwing line, she dabbed her eyes so as not to mess up her eye make-up — at least while she was still in public. Why did Ryan matter so much to her? The realization hit her as hard as one of the softballs she’d been throwing.
She was in love with him.
She dropped away from the dunk tank, ready to disappear into the crowd. In love with him? Why did she have to figure it out the moment after she learned he was ditching her? Maybe she was the idiot. She couldn’t stay at the benefit. Before leaving, she took one last look at Ryan. One last image to remember him by.
And what an image it was.
He came up sputtering and gasping, his shirt clinging indecently to his chest. The lean muscles on his arms and hinted at by his shoulders were well-represented through the transparent fabric. Tara’s mouth went dry, and her anger faded a smidge.
Minnie appeared in front of the dunk tank, waving her hands like she was directing traffic. While Minnie had everyone diverted, Ryan waded to the ladder and worked his way out of the tank. Yvonne hurried over with a towel and draped it over his shoulders. With Ryan’s marvelous abs out of eyesight, Tara’s mind started working again. And she remembered why she wanted to smash his head with a softball. After the mess with Chuck was cleared up with the police, she was done with Ryan.
Tara intended to scoot out of the benefit and bring the paperwork over to the police station. They could call Ryan with any questions about his recording application.
“Since I have your attention, we can get on to the headline of our benefit,” Minnie announced. “We all love our library and know it is desperately in need of expansion. All the proceeds from this evening’s entertainment will go toward the building project. At this time we will begin the silent auction. Bids can be placed in the red tent behind you. Get out your wallets and bid on these!” She waved her hand in a giant flourish. The covers on the hanging banners above them whooshed away on invisible strings. If the audience had been quiet after Ryan’s dunking, they were painfully silent now. Everyone’s eyes were locked in shock and awe on the over-sized posters. “Place your bids at the red tent. The library needs you!”
Tara squinted at the closest one. It was a well-aged woman posing in the style of a 1950s pin-up girl, all ruffled swimsuits, floppy hats, and voluptuous curves. Each of the posters, while tastefully and coyly posed, featured one of the Ladies Night Out. The woman on the closest poster was in good shape, but she wasn’t centerfold material. Was that Minnie? Tara recognized the hat from one of the rooms at the Lilac Bower. It was definitely Minnie. So this was the photo shoot Minnie had been talking about. Either Minnie was a marketing genius, or she had permanently scarred the entire town.
People around Tara gasped, then chuckled and moved in the direction of the tent with comments like “I want number four” or “I want a calendar with all of them” or “These would be great refrigerator magnets.” So Minnie was a marketing guru.
Ryan limped to Tara’s side. He bent to pick up his cane and leaned his weight on it with a sigh. “Minnie sure can clear a room. What’s all the rush?”
Tara cast him a sidelong glance. “Have you taken a good look at all the pictures?”
Ryan’s towel dropped to the floor as he leaned forward to get a better view of a poster to their right. Tara thought he might follow the towel, when the horrified words erupted from his mouth. “Is that my mom?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“How does it feel to be a free woman?” Ryan asked as they traversed the darkened parking lot outside the police station. Detective Gager requested they bring in the evidence after the benefit. Chuck was ensconced inside, awaiting his hearing on Monday morning.
They’d dropped off the corroborating evidence and a copy of the recording, garnering Ryan an offer for a license for the listening application. Tara had lost track of time in the windowless interrogation room and was surprised to see shades of pink lighting the eastern horizon. Thank goodness it was Sunday, and she didn’t have to be at the office bright and early.
She was ready to strip off her dress and sink into bed. Ryan was lucky. He’d changed out of his soaked tuxedo and into warm-up pants and a sweatshirt.
“I wasn’t actually incarcerated, but having them believe my evidence — with your help, of course — feels pretty good.” She stepped toward her car, desperate to put some space between herself and Ryan. When they’d been trapped in the interrogation room explaining the fraudulent returns and the recording system, all she could think about was what she and Ryan might have been.
She and Ryan didn’t have what she thought they did.
Ryan caught his cane on a pot hole and stumbled. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders to stabilize himself. “I’m still wobbly on this cane. If I don’t watch where I walk, I’ll be hanging all over you.”
Tara wanted to slip her arm around his waist and feel their steps sync as she knew they would, but she shrugged out of his embrace instead. I don’t mind keeping you close. But she reminded herself, it would be good to get used to distance between them. More was surely coming.
“It’s been a long day.” Tara reached for her purse and dug inside for her keys. “I think I’m going to sleep until Monday morning.” Her hand wrapped around the key chain and she squeezed the jagged metal into her flesh. The keys jangled as she tried to fit them in the door lock. “Have a good night.”
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
She turned her head as he spoke and realized he was much closer than she thought. If she looked into his eyes, he would draw her in. Their kiss in the hallway; her body pressed against his; the faint, enticing scent of his soap; and the comfort of his embrace, all flashed through her mind with longing. If she looked into his eyes, she would only get hurt. She forced her gaze to his chest. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Okay — wait, what?”
She was surprised by the confusion in his voice. She kept her eyes locked on the athletic shoe logo on his sweatshirt. Her eyes would betray her soul, betray how much she cared for him, and how it would rip her apart when he left. She didn’t dare meet his gaze. A few more minutes, she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears much longer. Her words came slowly as if they were a foreign language she couldn’t pronounce. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” Better to cut the ties herself than let him saw away at them gradually fraying every nerve.
Ryan tipped her chin and forced her eyes up to his. “Are you drunk?”
If only she was. Another glass or six of champagne would take the bite out of this evening. “I don’t see any reason for us to continue a doomed relationship if you are leaving.”
Ryan shook his head in confusion. “I’m not leaving.”
“But you’re not taking the coaching job in Glendale, so you’ll leave when the next job opens.”
“I can’t coach. I’ll find something else.” He gestured to the police department. “I can write software from anywhere. Why does it matter what job I have?”
It was the ‘from anywhere’ that bothered her. It wasn’t worth sharing though. Why open herself up for more hurt? Tara sighed. “You’d be so good at coaching.”
“I don’t understand why you think that. I’d be a more pathetic version of Coach Chambers. Instead of a station wagon, I’d have a limp. At least he was capable of running.”
Tara stomped her foot. A coach had to nurture talent, not keep up with it. “Y
ou’re a hometown hero. The kids will automatically look up to you. You have so much experience to share with them.” As she listed justifications that danced around her real reason for wanting Ryan to become the Glendale coach, she asked herself what was wrong with her. At the benefit, she had been angry enough to throw baseballs at his head, and now, she was tiptoeing around the subject.
Tara breathed, letting the oxygen fill every nook in her lungs, then seep slowly out. “If you took the job, it’d mean you were here to stay.” Her courage ran out before she could finish with “and I would have a chance with you.”
Ryan twitched his cane, shifting his weight onto his bad leg and back to his good one. He looked down at his shoes, then back up at her. “You like having me around?”
Why did he have to be so cute? “You could say that.”
“I think I just did.” Ryan grinned and a dimple dotted his cheek.
Tara couldn’t help but run her fingertip along it and down Ryan’s jaw. His five o’clock shadow was like fine sandpaper.
Hope trickled back in. If this last week had taught her anything, it was that she needed to go after what she wanted and to keep moving through the rough spot. If she kept on her feet, step by step, she made it through. She was stronger than she thought. She was stronger with Ryan by her side.
She wouldn’t let him go without putting herself out there. “You make me better, stronger. I’ve learned so much these last few days, but I wouldn’t have survived without you beside me. I’ve been a basket case at times, but when you were around, you gave me calm.” The words surprised Tara. Had she really said all that? She couldn’t explain those feelings to anyone else. It should feel like she was wavering on the edge of a cliff. Instead she was in a meadow with the sun warming her skin.
Ryan shook his head. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but you’ve been the same for me. When I’ve been the weakest, I had to seek you out. Because somehow it would be better when I was with you.”
Tara studied Ryan’s eyes. She saw the help he was asking for, but couldn’t express. “If I can get Chuck yanked off a mechanical bull, you can take the coaching job. We can’t afford to be apart.” She raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t running ninety percent mental? Just because you can’t run up Heartbreak Hill doesn’t mean you can’t teach the kids the mental toughness it takes.”
“And if that’s like tackling a never-ending Heartbreak Hill?” He trailed his finger along her cheek.
She remembered their discussion about the hill that had ruined Ryan’s Boston Marathon experience. They would conquer their hills together. She leaned into his touch and smiled. “Not every marathon is all downhill and I will be right by your side, cheering you through every step. Maybe I’ll even dust off my pom-poms.”
“It’s a deal.” Ryan wrapped his arms around her waist. “I think we were made for each other.”
Tara leaned her head against his shoulder and knew he was right. The way his arm felt around her, the way they encouraged and supported each other. Whether they were heading up hill or down, they were traveling together.
Epilogue
Ryan stood at the finish line of the track with a stopwatch and a list of split times on a crumpled paper in his hand. His cane was propped against his leg. “You’re doing great. Another lap like that last one and you’ll set a personal best,” he called to the runner who flew past him. She tailed the leader by fifty meters, but was still having the race of her life.
Ryan’s throat tightened as he saw determination fill the girl’s face and her turnover go just a bit quicker. He wanted to be out there next to her, pacing her through each step. Ryan turned as the girl rounded the curve to the back stretch and dug in as the wind pummeled her face. “Keep pushing! Two hundred meters left.”
He could feel each of the girl’s steps as if they were his own. The wind lashing his face, the burning gasp in his lungs, and the ripple of force as his feet pounded the track’s rubberized surface.
The girl rounded the last turn, her arms pumping as she clawed for the finish line, her last hundred meters a blur of effort until her legs flew across the finish line. She stumbled to a stop, then bent, grabbing her knees to push air into her heaving lungs.
Ryan blinked back tears that misted his eyes. He grabbed his cane and limped over to the girl as she made her way off the track. “Great job!” He patted her shoulder as she stared with her mouth hanging open like a landed fish. “You were right on your targets for all your laps.”
“What was my final time?” she wheezed.
Ryan held up the watch, thankful he’d remembered to stop it as the emotions of a race washed over him. The girl glanced at it and shook her head. “That can’t be right.”
Ryan flipped the display, so he could read the time. “You knocked twenty seconds off your best time. Most of that was in your last lap. Congratulations.”
“All I could think about was what you said, Coach. Leave it all out there.”
Ryan nodded. He hadn’t expected Tara’s predictions to come true so quickly. He’d only been coaching for a week. This was his first track meet. Between coaching and tweaking the recording application, his life in Carterville was enough to make a good living, but more importantly, he was enjoying himself. Those first steps onto the track had been more nauseating than toeing the line for his first marathon, but he’d quickly developed a rapport with the girls. They were eager for the attention Coach Chambers hadn’t given them and thrived on his tips and stories. Watching them grow was as rewarding as running himself.
Ryan patted the girl on the shoulder and directed her to get some water. The stands were sparsely populated with friends and family of the athletes. Some things never changed. But one person in the stands caught his attention. He went to the fence and called her name. “Tara!”
Tara waved and hopped down the metal steps. She adjusted her baseball cap over her blonde ponytail. She wore a gray hoodie with Glendale scrolled in red across the front.
“Those colors look good on you.”
“I’m afraid someone is going to recognize me as a Carterville cheerleader and beat me up for being a traitor.”
“I’ll ward them off with my cane.” He stretched over the fence and kissed her. A couple boys from the team hooted, and Ryan pulled away wondering how he could live without the taste of her lips every day. “I didn’t expect you to be here today.”
“The office is closed today. After being there until midnight, and making sure all the returns went through, I needed a break. It’s beautiful out today. Oh, and I have news!”
“You sound like my mom. She always has news.”
“Leslie gave birth last night. A girl. They named her Wendy. She was born at 11:55 — just as tax season ended.”
Ryan laughed. “That’s just about perfect.”
“I thought so, too.”
“Weren’t they having a boy?”
“Mark mistook the umbilical cord for something else.” Tara giggled.
“I see. I thought your news would be about your college applications.” He studied her face.
“Mailed them on the way over here. I had the perfect essay topic: When you think you are in over your head. It practically wrote itself.” The wind sprayed her ponytail, so the blonde hair glowed like gold in the sunlight. Her eyes sparkled despite how Glendale’s red and gray clashed with their lustrous blue. “Oh and the library fundraiser, they’re at eighty percent of their goal, and it’s only been a week.”
Leave it all on the track.
He stuffed the stopwatch and the paper with the splits into his pocket. He reached for the blowing strands of hair and wound them around his fingers, then he gazed into Tara’s eyes. “I love you, Tara Mansfield, even when you are in Carterville colors. I can’t live another minute without you. Will you marry me?”
She blinked at him for a moment, then sprang over the fence as easily as an Olympic hurdler. “I thought you’d never ask.”
She slipped her arms inside his open win
dbreaker and planted her mouth on his, squelching his indignation at her impatience. As whistles and catcalls erupted around him, he decided he didn’t care about her impatience even a little.
About the Author
I live in the Great Lakes state with my husband, three rambunctious children and two barking Beagles (I suppose that is redundant.) When not suffering the woes of potty training three toddler/preschoolers, I enjoy reading, running (sometimes it's fleeing the craziness at home), reconstructing clothing, thrift store shopping, and surfing Pinterest.com. (I spend way too much time there and am getting all kinds of exciting ideas for projects for my husband to do. He is less than thrilled by this.)
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I love writing romance because I enjoy stories where everything works out all right in the end and the main characters have a happily ever after. My stories are set in small towns with quirky characters that take on a life of their own.
Joselyn loves to hear from her readers!
@joselynvaughn
joselynvaughn
joselynvaughn.com
Climbing Heartbreak Hill Page 17
