Concern replaced amusement in his ruggedfeatures. He thinks I’m in shock. Truth be told, she was, but it hadnothing to do with the river’s chill.
.~* * * ~.
T.J. was relieved when Natalieseemed to return to herself. He wasn’t sure where she’d gone. At first hethought she was raking him with her eyes—and liking what she saw—but then she’dgone blank, and he’d worried she’d gone hypothermic.
They stopped for coffees to go, and as shesipped her cappuccino, she said, “I’m curious about your tattoo.”
“And?”
She seemed to pull in a breath. “Whoeverdesigned it is amazing. It’s a beautiful work of art.”
“Thanks.” He shot her a sheepish look. “Thatwould be me.”
Wide brown eyes met his. “You designedit?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I have a few hiddentalents.” A few I’d like to show you. Things south of his belt beganstirring, and he groaned inwardly.
Don’t go there. Picture her covered in dog fur.Nope, not helping.
Add up numbers on license plates. Five, seven,and two equal fifteen. Shit. Fourteen.
Her cheeks pinked, and she appeared flustered.Maybe she’d read his dirty thoughts. “So you’re an artist?”
“No. I mean, I like to dabble, but it’s only ahobby.”
“So what does the tattoo mean?”
He looked through the windshield at the vibrantblue overhead. Not even a hint of a cloud. Had he ever seen a prettier colorthan a clear Rocky Mountain sky? He turned, studying her profile as she drove.“It’s about perseverance and second chances.” Yeah, he’d leave it at that.
She cocked her head. “A second chance at …?”
“Everything.” He sipped his coffee. They werecareening toward the edge of Calamity Cliff, and he braced himself for her nextquestion. Oddly, his gut wasn’t seizing like it normally did when someoneprobed.
“What does the scroll say?”
“No excuses.” His most recentaddition.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning there aren’t any do-overs in life. Ifyou’re gonna do something,then do it. Trying doesn’t cut it.”
In an awful imitation of Yoda, she growled,“There is no try. Only do.” Then she giggled.
His heart might have melted a bit.
They coasted to a stop at a red light. “Goodwords to live by,” she added, popping the lid to her drink, dipping her fingerin her cup to capture a dollop of foam, and sliding it oh-so-slowly in hermouth, her tongue licking it off.
All the blood in his system rushed to his pants,and it took a moment for her words to sink in. And when they did, thepossibility occurred to him that he’d been making excuses his entire life. Justlike he’d been lying to Natalie since he’d met her.
He shoved the thought aside in favor of studyingher gorgeous face. The shift wasn’t a hard one to make, but it brought a pangof sadness. A woman like her—confident, intelligent, capable, kind, funny,beautiful—wouldn’t want a guy like him for more than a roll in the hay. Whyshould she? And that was without knowing his real identity.
.~* * * ~.
After Tyler and Ford left,Natalie fixed herself a cup of cocoa, blanketed the top in a double layer ofmini marshmallows, and added a healthy froth of whipped cream for good measure.A little treat after a perfect day on the river. Sheslid into her now-solid kitchen chair with a sigh.
An image of shirtless Tyler popped into herbrain—again—and she told herself to knock it off. Again. No lusting afterclients, especially good-paying ones. These speeches might have been all sheneeded if Lily Logical was in charge. Unfortunately, Lily had gone on hiatusand relinquished control to Hailey Hormones. Hailey was lighting tiki torches and assembly-lining Jell-O shots inpreparation for one hell of a party.
Drew’s conclusions about Tyler’s occupation hadseemed ridiculous at first, but the notion had worn a gap of doubt in hermind—to the point she’d added male stripper and escort to the virtual list. Notthe type of guy she was into.
On the table beside her were a pad and pen, andshe began doodling absentmindedly until she drew a vertical line down themiddle, scribbling Pros on one side and Cons on the other. Undercons, she listed Tyler’s negatives: mysterious; broods; possible porn star,gigolo, stripper, or drug dealer. She jotted down MMA fighter—explainingthe scrapes on his face—before finishing the list with Lives in California?Tapping the pen against her cheek, she searched for more negative attributesbut failed. I’ll come back to that.
Hailey clamored to list his positives, soNatalie relented and began writing. Loves dogs; super smart; wicked sense ofhumor; fun to talk to; gorgeous eyes; gentleman; swoon-worthy body; generous;tall; really hot; handyman. This list was flowing much easier than theother had. She stopped before she could write another variation of greatbody or really hot.
Another sip, andNatalie perused her lopsided lists. Reviewing the cons, she realized sheactually found brooding men attractive, so she transferred it to the proscolumn.
Hailey clapped and let out a Wootwoot! Natalie was sure that girl was fistpumping.
“This isn’t working,” she muttered aloud.
The pros column had to be counterbalanced—therewas an order, a symmetry to the universe after all—soNatalie got back to work. The hot chocolate had become a sweet white sludge;she savored a few more sips, revisiting her interactions with Tyler today. Thisshook a few more ideas loose, and under cons she added: guarded; evasive.
On the bottom of the page, she wrote: Manharboring a secret.
She hadn’t a clue what that secret might be.
CHAPTER 22
You Might’veMissed a Spot
Over the next few weeks, winterseemed to melt into spring. Between Ford, practices, and the No Excuses! team, T.J. had settled into a deceptively comfortableroutine. Deceptive because he hadn’t told Natalie. He was buying time to make every repair herhouse needed. Once she tossed him on his ass, there’d be no more handymanning his way into her life, and he didn’t want herleft with projects—or so he told himself. Sadly, her list was dwindling.However, she’d mentioned needing a bookcase. He could build that. And fromthere …
Occasionally, she fed him. They even jogged together once ortwice. Always, they talked. Laughed. Bantered. He loved every minute of it.
Mary stopped by once, kissing him on the cheek like he waspart of the family, amping up that wholescary-as-shit Rockwellian vibe. Strangely, he didn’tmind. As long as “family” didn’t involve meeting Brother Drew, T.J. could kidhimself he
