Mike's Way Back (Finding Perfect) (3 page)

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“About who Andrew might be?” Taryn grinned.

Mike leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankle over his knee, then shook his head. “It’s really none of my business.”

So he was going to feign indifference. He wasn’t acting pissy at all, which made it even funnier. If he had turned into a jackass, she would have immediately packed her belongings and hightailed it out of the bar so fast his head would have spun. Instead, he acted low-keyed and laid ba
ck. She could tell he was desperately trying to act like he wasn’t bothered by her talking to another man in such a flirtatious manner.

“Even if Andrew is basically my business partner?” She asked, coyly with a hint of humor lacing her words. She watched his mouth twitch. Relief brightened his eyes. Her chest constricted when she saw the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Even if he’s as gay as the damn day is long?” Mike did his best to conceal the smile trying to break through. Taryn went for the throat. “Even if Andrew and his partner have been together for about…oh, seven years now?”

Taryn had to give Mike credit, he was a man who knew when he was beat. Chuckling he lowered his head and shook it. Looking back up and facing her, he only shrugged, apparently at a loss for words. Although he was fun to play with, she’d had her entertainment and it was time to let him off the hook. “You made yourself an easy target there, detective.” Taryn teased.

“Touché.” He grinned and raised his bottle. “I can appreciate how you could see the humor in this.”

Taryn smiled even bigger as she watched him struggle not to laugh. Seeing him squirm was almost the highlight of her day. The building she was going to help renovate was still at the top of that list. She bit her lip and jerked her shoulder, then took another drink.

“Taryn Watts…I have a feeling you’re full of surprises.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, one look at your attire and a person might think you were a high-powered attorney who goes for the jugular. In reality, you’re a very talented artist with a quick wit and a gorgeous smile.”

Taryn felt the heat rush over her cheeks. Ducking her head, she tucked one side of her hair behind her ear.

“See? Another turn, another surprise.”

Narrowing her eyes, her brow furrowing, Taryn silently questioned him.

“You my dear, can be quite bashful.”

Just when her cheeks had cooled, they flamed again. She rolled her eyes, and just to avoid having to make eye contact, Taryn picked up where she’d left off. She continued to pack her work for the trip back to her hotel room.

“I’ll take your hint,” Mike tipped his head at her slipping her drawings and notes into her laptop bag. “And I’ll raise you. It’s early yet. Can I possibly convince you to let me walk you around the square? Maybe show you a few of the shops that are still open?”

When Taryn would have politely declined he continued. “From what I gather, you’re here to renovate one of the shops on the square. This way you could see a couple of others and get a feel for the area.”

She had already been planning to do just that tomorrow. When working on a commercial space, it helped to have a sense of the community, so she didn’t develop an idea so far off the scale it would upset the rest of the town. Plus, she could see what the other businesses, which had recently been remodeled, had chosen to do with their spaces. Sometimes
after seeing their ideas she incorporated them into her own plans.

Both of them were now standing. With a tilted head and narrowed eye, she let her gaze drift down Mike’s body and slowly back up. Going anywhere with him was such a bad idea on so many levels Taryn didn’t even bother to count them all.

Chapter 3

He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until she agreed, and then it came out with a whoosh. Covering it up with a cough, he bent down to unplug her laptop from the wall outlet. Taryn was unlike anyone he’d ever met. A striking beauty that made his breath catch. She had a wicked sense of humor, yet she blushed easily. Her work was important to her, but more so, it was obvious she was passionate about it. Mike could lose hours just sitting and watching her draw. The way she held the pencils to shade, blended it with some gray thing in her other hand, then sat back to assess her work—only to repeat the process over and over.

“Ready?”

Her smile brought him back to reality. A nice reality at that. Walking out through the door of Jenny’s, he placed his palm to her lower back. Even through clothing, the spark bit him. If he wasn’t careful, he would fall fast for the skirt, legs, and heels.

Warning bells went off in his head. He’d done that once before, and lost.

Mike hadn’t thought about his ex-wife in so long, it was hard to remember he’d ever been married. One sideways glance at Taryn, and he pushed his ex from his mind as the theme song from
The Wizard of Oz
ran through his head.

Walking slowly down the wide sidewalk underneath the varied awnings, he smiled at the name painted on the storefront window. “Oh, here. I have to take you in here,” Mike said cheerfully pushing the heavy glass and wood door open to the bookstore. Holding it for her, she entered ahead of him.

Taryn stopped abruptly in front of him.

His only course of action was to grip her shoulders to keep from plowing her over. It wasn’t his fault the action left him close enough a sheet of paper couldn’t pass between them. It wasn’t his fault the contact caused him to hiss in her ear. Talk about being Captain Obvious. “Shit, I’m sorry, Taryn.”

“No, it’s my fault.” Taking a small step forward she turned in a slow circle, while looking upward at the expanse of books covering the walls, her eyes shining in sheer pleasure. “It’s like going back in time.”

Mike knew what she meant. He hadn’t given two thoughts about the old bookstore when he was a kid. It was just the place his mom dragged him and his brothers to each week, where she picked up one of those books she liked to read. The kind with the man on the cover about to kiss a girl. Mike grinned to himself at the old memories. After living in the city with huge chain stores and their impersonal feel, the quaintness of The Looking Glass was a welcome reprieve.

“I guess the name of the store is fitting, huh?” she asked grinning.

He knew the name of the store was also the title of a famous book. Growing up, he thought that’s what it was named after. Now, he knew it was just as Taryn said. The charming old building with books lining the oak shelves from floor to ceiling was different from the boring metal shelves in bigger stores. They might not have every title ever written, but they had sliding ladders to reach the top shelves, and that was so much higher on the
cool
scale.

Nodding toward the woman in her late twenties sitting on a stool behind the cash register, he glanced back at Taryn. “That’s Gabby James, this is her store. It’s been in her family for three generations.” At the mention of her name, the young woman looked up, gave half a smile, and went back to the paperwork spread out in front of her.

Books were everywhere. The middle of the building had so many shelves linked together, only one person could fit in amongst the maze at any given time. No walking hand-n-hand while leisurely strolling the aisles, but it was still better in the small shop.

The faint smell of apple drifted through the air, not the musty
smell one would expect with all these old books. Mike watched the emotions race over Taryn’s face, from excitement to fascination, then to just plain awe. As a creative person, he could almost see the gears spinning in her head. Without asking, he could tell she was taking in every nuance and detail of the building. Some people saw books, she saw the personality of the building itself. She took in how the walls, the crown molding, and the shelving worked together to create something amazing.

Everywhere she turned her eyes widened and her smile grew. She walked ahead of him and snaked her way through the tight spaces. Mike wandered over to one of the two brown leather chairs in the corner. It was one of the few places books hadn’t taken over. The store could really use the space the chairs took up, but they’d been sitting in those very same spots for more years than Mike could count. He relaxed back against the soft leather. Grinning to himself, he enjoyed the way she let her guard down. She was totally free with her admiration for the store and building. She was almost giddy.

Technically this wasn’t a date, but damn if it was—he’d hit the jackpot.

Taryn came around a corner close to his chair. “This place is amazing, Mike. How do you ever pull yourself out of here?”

He winked. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” She stood looking at him, but didn’t answer. “Most of the town has similar qualities.”

Her eyes went wide. If he knew her better, he would guess he’d just delivered news that rivaled winning the lottery.

“Are you serious?” Her eyebrows reached high, her mouth on the verge of gaping.

Mike shook his head. “The hardware store, the kids clothing store, an office supply shop. Um…let’s see. Oh, we have a small art gallery, and our beloved movie theater. It only has two screens, so we are generally a couple of months behind the rest of the country. Everyone in town loves it and protested building a bigger theater.” She looked like a kid in a candy shop. That reminded him. “Oh, and,” he paused to wiggle his eyebrows, “we have a real candy shop.”

Taryn bit her lip and blinked rapidly a couple of times. “This is paradise.”

“I thought most women described paradise as an upscale spa or an exotic beach. Or maybe the inside of Neiman Marcus?”

Her smile vanished right before she rolled her eyes. “Not all women,” Taryn said smartly before turning away from him.

That had apparently chilled her spirit. Mike closed his eyes for a minute and took a deep breath. It was a knee-jerk comment based on his ex-wife. He was long over her, but
assuming all women were just like her was a harder habit to break. Once he moved back to town, he’d dated a few women with no problem. Maybe it was because they didn’t have the appearance or the air of power Taryn did. How perfectly ironic. Mike shook his head.
Don’t judge a book by its cover.
In a freaking bookstore of all places. He’d been a fool to get caught doing just that.

Damn it.

~~~

She wasn’t that upset by his snide comment. She assumed he was just trying to be funny. What pissed her off more was that she’d let the persona slip. It had taken years to perfect. She was so practiced most of the time she didn’t even have to try anymore. The air of control was just the mask she wore all the time now.

Except—she wasn’t that person.

Taryn
had never been that person. Back in her freshman year of college, she read an article in a magazine that described how clothes could define a person. The article went on pointing out facts and stating women who wore heels gave the appearance of power. Of control.

The very thing she ran to
California in search of. That article changed her life. It changed her—the way she dressed, the way she walked, even the way she spoke. Long gone were the days of coming across as girly and naïve.

When she visited her family she held onto her façade with an iron fist. The consummate professional. She smiled, but never gave in to rolling laughter. Loving, but distant. Engaged, but aloof. Her whole demeanor was a set of contradictions. She was still the daughter who appreciated her parents’ hard work. She smiled, but never giggled foolishly. Never let her guard down. There was never any question. She was in control and could take care of herself.

As long as she walked in with her heels on, back straight and head held high, her father never questioned her choices. It had been years since she had made herself over. After so many years she’d forgotten how easy it was to be herself. Her old self.

It was Mike. Something about him. His charm, his easy-going smile—it was him and that damn muscular body she felt pressed up against her back when they first walked into the bookstore. It was those damn blue eyes she kept getting lost in.

It was him she had to stay away from. She couldn’t afford to lose the control she’d fought so hard for. Not to him…of all people—a cop.

She felt the heat from his hand before it even grasped her upper arm. With her eyes screwed shut, she willed herself back to normal. Whatever that was.

“Taryn, I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean that to come across so offensively. I apologize.”

She turned and faced the man. With the cool attitude she had down pat, she gave little effort to the smile on purpose, keeping it from appearing fully. “It’s fine.”

“Can we please continue our tour?” He asked, holding out his hand to her.

Looking down her nose, she stared at his open palm. There were two directions to go and only two. Look back up into his blue eyes and tell him no. Then proceed to walk out of the bookstore with her head held high, her control tightened and her heart i
ntact. Never to see the man again.

Or…

She placed her hand in his, letting him lead her out of the building.

It was her body betraying her. Her hand had been in his before she knew what happened. Stupid hormones. Just because she hadn’t had sex with a man in so long it was almost embarrassing, did not give her body the right to just act on its own accord.

Taryn walked out following Mike. She grinned in spite of herself as she got an up-close view of his ass in the worn jeans.

~~~

“Hey, Mike. Started early I see?”

Breathing hard and sweating, Mike dropped his wrapped fists and turned toward the front of his two-stall detached garage. His good friend let his gym bag fall off his shoulder to the concrete floor with a thud. Rolling his neck side to side, he nodded, “Jack.”

“You been at it long, or you want to keep going?”

“You know me, I’ll keep going.” Mike suspected Jack wasn’t oblivious. Everyone probably thought he worked out to keep the physique that turned a fair share of heads in his direction. The truth wasn’t anywhere close to the assumptions.

The grueling workouts were how he survived.

He’d pushed himself through physical therapy, harder than the doctors recommended. The statement
‘pace yourself’
, had been repeated so many times Mike quit hearing it. Working himself to exhaustion was the only way he had half a chance of sleeping at night. The harder he worked, the better chance he had at making it through the night without waking drenched in sweat from the nightmares that gripped his soul.

Unwra
pping the tape from his wrists Mike glanced up at the punching bag hanging from the beam in front of him, then to the closest thing he had to a confidant behind it.

Growing up in a loving family with friends galore in high school might be a comfort to most. He was still close to his parents. They only lived ten minutes from him as the crow flies. Since moving back from the city, he rekindled many of his old friendships with those who hadn’t moved away from their small town. He had people. People who cared. People who might understand.

Mike couldn’t take the chance that they wouldn’t. Instead he buried his demons and kept the personal hell he experienced to himself.

Jack and Mike were in the same class back in high school. Mike had worked out, played football in the fall, baseball in the spring, and always had been built—Jack hadn’t. Not an outcast, but not a joiner either
, Jack preferred the quiet of the library and straight A’s to muscles. Their differences could have kept them miles apart, but the two had always been best friends.

Going to separate colleges hadn’t changed that. Meeting up at the academy and both graduating with the same goal concreted their long-time friendship. They both wanted to help those around them. Jack stayed in their small town, on the force that rarely saw much more than speeders and unruly teenagers. Mike went to the city and lived with the fear his life was on the line with every shift, until the day he looked into his mother’s eyes as he was going into surgery. He promised her he’d move back home, back to a safer environment. That day, there had been a very real chance he wasn’t going to make it off the operating table. The doctor had been blunt. When he walked out of the hospital, four days later, he made good on the promise to his mother.

The only drawback was the ample time to think. In the city, he wouldn’t have had the peace and quiet. The noise, the long and busy shifts, and the focus they demanded, would have been enough to help him forget—at least for the duration of his workday.

Not here.  Not in his safe, small hometown of Renlend.

The punching bag was the only way to silence the thoughts in his head—a way to get his mind off of the what-ifs.

Jack positioned himself on the weight bench, the appropriate weights already attached.