“Thank you, ma’am,” Shaw said, voice gruff. He quickly glanced at Taryn before looking back to her parents. “And I know this is complicated, but I love your daughter and plan to do everything in my power to make sure she’s happy.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “I’m sorry for all the pain my family has caused yours.”
Her mother stared at him for a long moment and then she straightened, rising to her full diminutive height. She put her hands out and took one of Shaw’s between hers.
A rush of nerves went through Taryn.
But her mother gave his hand a squeeze and said, “I’m sorry for your loss as well.”
Shaw blinked, clearly shocked, and then dipped his head. “Thank you.”
Taryn couldn’t take it any longer. She stepped forward and threw her arms around both her parents, something cracked inside her gluing back together. “I’ve missed you guys so much.”
Her parents embraced her and cried along with her. When they finally pulled back and looked at each other, Taryn smiled, everything feeling right in her world.
“I love y’all,” she said, the words spilling out of her.
“We love you too, honey,” her mother said, “and we’ll leave you to it now. I know you probably still have things to do here.”
“No way.” Taryn shook her head. “I can handle anything that’s left tomorrow. We have to go to dinner.”
“Oh, we have to, huh?” her father teased.
“Yes. Work can wait this time.” Taryn looked over at Shaw and smiled, her heart full. “I have so much to tell you.”
“We can’t wait to hear.” Her father put his hand out to Shaw and shook it. “I guess we’re all going to dinner. Ready to meet the parents, son?”
Shaw smiled. “I’m ready for all of it, sir.”
And so was Taryn. So. Very. Ready.
The life she was meant for had finally begun.
Now for a special sneak peek at the next breathtaking Roni Loren book
The One For You
Kincaid Breslin was the girl who was supposed to die first in the horror movie. In high school, it had been a running joke among her friends during their annual Halloween marathon of scary movies that she’d be the first character topless, screaming, and running for her life.
She was the dance team captain. The girl with the superstar boyfriend. The non-virgin. All those things spelled dead in those classic eighties horror movies. Her character probably wouldn’t have been on screen long enough to even get a name. In the credits, she’d be listed as “Blond Cheerleader #1” or “Hysterical Girl #2.” But her friends had been wrong. When Kincaid’s life had turned into an actual horror movie, she’d somehow managed to get out alive. Most of those friends hadn’t. Real-life horror didn’t follow movie rules.
So you would think after actually surviving what she had, she’d be extra vigilant about putting herself in any situation that resembled a scary movie ever again. But as she stared up at the rambling farmhouse that could star in the next teen slasher film, she fell head over heels in love.
“Holy shit,” her friend Liv said next to her, camera clutched in her hands. “Are we supposed to go inside that thing?”
Kincaid frowned. “Well, yeah. I need photos of the inside. There are none online yet, and Bethany wanted pictures ASAP. And what Bethany wants, she gets. Otherwise, I’ll get sixteen thousand demanding texts and voicemails by the end of the day. I need this sale. Please make this place look gorgeous.”
Liv gave her a wary look, as if she were now regretting offering her photography skills for Kincaid’s demanding real estate client. “Has it been opened and aired out recently? Maybe had some sage burned and a spirit guide cleanse the thing?”
Kincaid snorted, surprised at her normally unflappable friend’s reaction. “Honey, I didn’t take you for the superstitious sort. That’s usually my job. It’s just an old farmhouse.”
Liv gave her a pointed look, dark eyes holding her gaze, as she very deliberately made the sign of the cross and recited something in Spanish. “Chica, that thing for sure houses the angry spirits of serial killers or maybe vampires. I bet there are bones in the attic. Or portals to hell in the basement. I am not playing Willow to your Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”
Kincaid laughed. “You wouldn’t be Willow. Too mouthy. You’d be Xander. And there are no basements here.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at the house again. “I think it’s…quaint.”
Liv gave her a girl, please look. “Quaint? You’re using your real estate agent words. Cozy means small. Fixer upper means money pit. Quaint means…portals to hell with demons ready to eat your soul for the mere price of—what’s this thing cost anyway?”
Kincaid checked her notes from her earlier chat with her fellow agent, Ferris. “Owner’s asking five hundred.”
“Wow,” Liv said, lifting her camera and taking a shot of the wide, sagging porch. “Someone’s proud of their creepy-ass haunted house.”