Grady just wants to grieve the loss of his ex in peace, but then Quinn's younger sister, Taryn, whirls into his Texas hometown, looking to stir up the past. She brings in a wave of goons with her and a mystery that's well beyond his pay grade. Still...
"You got through four years of accounting?" I ask Taryn, tagging along at her heel.
"That's what I said!"
The path to the pond starts wide and ends narrow, and we're just past the point where our shoulders might brush.
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She skittered ahead, and I took the rear. The heat may be terrible, but the view is nothing to complain about. There are wildflowers everywhere, even where they shouldn't be. And, well, Taryn is in front of me in these tiny denim shorts that somehow manage to be a little loose at the hips. At least occasionally, I can overlook the fact that I'm sweating like a whore in church.
I'm glad she's upwind and her eyes are ahead. She hasn't yet seen me clawing at my hand, either. I got stung twice by my left thumb. I grabbed the wood beside the hole in the barn on my way out and the hornet nearby wasn't having it. It's nothing tragic, but it is all itchy and puffy, and rather distracting, too.
"And I graduated with honors," Taryn informs me a beat later. She takes a moment to undo the messy knot of hair that has fallen astray. It's thick, long, and a bit wild. It may come in light brown at the root, but time and the elements have lightened it into this rich coppery blond with a bit of a wave to it. "Why are you acting so surprised? Should I be offended?"
"Of course not." I pinch my eyes shut as she wrangles her hair back into the ponytail structure she seems to prefer. It's just sensory overload, and I need to focus here, and fast. "It's just..."
"Just what? Let me hear it!" She turns around and does the "bring it on" gesture with her hands while strutting backwards. "Whatever sexist comment you were going to make!" She resumes walking forward.
"Easy there, quick to judge," I toss back to her once the spike in my blood pressure has a chance to subside. "I'm impressed, is all. You're obviously capable. All Abernathys are or were. They're dreamers, though, and you somehow turned out practical. If it wouldn't be too sexist of me to say so, I could probably get you a job interview in less than ten minutes." A number of small business owners in my acquaintance need help like hers. She wouldn't get rich in this town, but she would certainly get by, no major issues.
Taryn's narrow shoulders flex at the offer, like she's at least considering it. Then her head turns back for a glimpse of me. She has a slight smile, but it fades quickly, and sorrow seems to take its place. "I had to be practical." Her head is neutral again, but her voice is not. "Too many dreams died with my father."
"Yeah, no kiddin'." I try saying it consolingly, but I feel like I fall short. "How are you doing with all that anyway?" I throw in for good measure.
"Probably better than you are!" she sasses back.
Nice try, I tell myself. I obviously hit a nerve instead. "I suppose you're right," I admit, hoping it'll help. "I had nothing when I came here, and being around so many dreamers, I caught the bug and caught it hard. That part of me thought I'd be running this place by now."
