She never told people anything that would help them find her in real life. Not what city she lived in, her occupation, or what she looked like. Not even her first name, and this guy seemed to be on the same page. So, although they chatted while they played, she knew nothing of value about him.
“Sorry. I just can’t. I grew up watching cows go to slaughter, and that forever made me a herbivore,” she explained.
“What?” he asked.
“My family owned a cattle ranch, and it scarred me for life,” Taran explained.
The guy laughed. “You’re telling me that the daughter of a cattle rancher doesn’t eat meat?”
“Oh yeah, you’re the first one to find that funny.” She rolled her eyes, and she heard what sounded like a dog in the background. “New pet?”
“Nah,” he said. “Dog sitting for a friend.”
“What kind of dog?” she asked.
“I don’t know. One’s black and fluffy and yappy and the other one is the kind women put in their purses.”
“Ooh, girlfriend’s dogs, huh?” Bummer. Although she didn’t know this guy, there was an easiness about him. She didn’t have to try so hard to interact with him. They had even been doing a little flirting, but if he had a girlfriend, that had to stop.
“Ex-girlfriend, actually,” he corrected. “And her husband. They took their kids out west, and I get to watch the dogs.”
“That’s pretty big of you. Most people wouldn’t do that for an ex who’s married with kids,” Taran said.
“Well, her husband’s one of my best friends, so it’s hard not to.”
“Wow. Your best friend married your ex?” She thought there was a guy code about that.
“In reality, it played out differently than it sounds,” he assured her.
“I hope so. Otherwise, you’re a schmuck.” Taran laughed.
“Sometimes I think I might be.” He agreed, and she kind of felt bad for him. “But then I remember I’m me, and I could never be a schmuck.”
Taran laughed, guessing he didn’t need pity. “Just conceited.”
“Bah, it’s not conceited if it’s true.”
She grinned.
“But I don’t currently have a girlfriend, so you don’t need to feel bad if you’re falling for me.”
“Ha!” she replied. She liked laughing, flirting, and chatting with him while they played a game, but it would never be more than that.
Her family believed it was a choice. She was choosing not to find love or even a casual relationship because she was still mourning Jeremy. But that wasn’t the case. She’d tried to force feelings for guys she dated but it didn’t work. She didn’t feel anything.
Until Corey Matthews and that kiss she couldn’t stop thinking about.
He made her feel a lot of things. She’d like to say it was just lust for the Captain America look-alike, but that wasn’t true. She smiled without meaning to with Corey. Around him, she easily got annoyed, frustrated. But she also felt relief—and maybe happy. But she definitely felt lust.
And before Corey, that was something she’d only ever felt for Jeremy. He was her first love, her high school sweetheart. It was going to be one of those sappy stories where she’d only kissed one man her entire life. It hadn’t worked out that way. Because he was gone, and she was left here to try to figure out what she was supposed to do without him. Pivoting, adjusting, became part of life.
Taran had done a pretty good job of moving forward. She had sold the condo they bought in Pensacola and moved to New Jersey. She took a full-time job with Sports Illustrated and left the serious press behind her.
At first, she feared she couldn’t write the news without reliving it, but that faded away to a different reality. She couldn’t be cold and distant while reporting a tragedy. She’d need to feel in order to do the story justice, and since she couldn’t, she’d had to find a new path. One that didn’t require her to be passionate. But she liked writing, and she’d always liked sports, so this was the perfect way to write things that interested her while living with the emotional emptiness of her PTSD.
“Ha? What exactly does ‘ha’ mean?” He sounded disgruntled. “I’m lovable.”
“It means that although I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with you, that’s not what I’m looking for,” Taran explained.