Page 2 of Legacy of Lies
Sara blinked hard.Stay professional.She needed all her faculties with her today. She knew a little about Garrison Taggart’s life since he graduated high school five years ahead of her: his wife, his son, the sudden breakup and divorce. Heck, she had appreciated that the people in town had someone else to talk about for a while there.
All day, she’d wondered how it would go, meeting her adolescent crush, all grown up. A rush of terrified giggles threatened to burst out of her lips.
Get a grip on yourself.He had no clue about her teenage infatuation and didn’t deserve to walk into a parent-teacher meeting where the teacher was all aflutter. Besides, both of them were older, hopefully wiser, and world-wearier. She had that police record and a less-than-respectable family background. If the gossip could be believed, Garrison now had his own demons.
A colleague had warned her about Garrison Taggart’s unwilling participation in parent-teacher conferences. He disliked meetings, he didn’t have time for teachers, and he resented anything that took him away from his ranch. And God help anyone who said a critical word about his kid.
Odds were, he wouldn’t like what Sara had to say.
The man filled the doorway, blocking the light behind him for a moment. As he entered the room, he removed his tan cowboy hat, and short, wavy hair the color of burnt sienna became visible. Beneath thick slashes of reddish-brown eyebrows, his amber-colored eyes took her breath away as he broke eye contact long enough to dip his head in a curt nod. He raised an eyebrow and waited.
Her dry tongue unstuck enough to form words. “Please come in, Mr. Taggart. You’re right on time.”
“Of course I am.”
She flinched. The frigid tone rivaled the wind chill outside and made her glance at the clock on her wall: 4:22. She had run two minutes late for his time slot.
He crossed the worn linoleum floor in three strides, bringing with him scents of horses, hay, leather, and hardworking male. She inhaled, triggering fond memories of watching rodeo competitions featuring a certain steer roper.
Too bad her pleasant thoughts didn’t jibe with the scowling man standing next to the chair.
Keep it professional. Stay cool. You can do this.
Sara wiped damp palms on her black slacks and stuck out her hand. “Mr. Taggart, I’m glad you were able to take time to meet about Zach.”
His strong hand wrapped around hers.
Rough skin against soft. His ruddy, weathered skin against her light olive tone. Opposites all around, but damned if their hands didn’t look perfect together.
Seriously? She slid her hand out of his grasp, trying hard to ignore the zing of excitement traveling up her arm.
“Garrison.”
“Pardon?”
“Call me Garrison. When you say Mr. Taggart, I start looking around for my old man.”
Garrison Taggart was anything but old. He must be, what, a few years past thirty now? Other than some weatherworn fine lines around his eyes, nothing else about his fit physique indicated he was anything but in the prime of his life.
When a twinkle lit the gold flecks in his eyes, her neck warmed up. Her thick hair, worn down today, had been a bad idea, if the heat building up at the nape of her neck was any indication.
“All right, then. I’m Sara.”
“Didn’t you go to high school with my kid brother and sister?” His low voice flowed over her like wind blowing through pine trees, and she inhaled, despite herself.
“Kerr and Shelby? They were a year ahead of me.”
“Thought so. Most everyone in town knows everyone else, one way or another. It’s a small town.” He pinned her with an uncomfortable stare.
“Sure is.” If he didn’t name her past missteps, no way would she serve up the bait. “Kerr and Shelby might not remember me. Um, I kept mostly to myself. But, yes, I was acquainted with them from school.”
“You were acquainted with the Wonder Twins, you mean?” When he smiled, honest-to-God smiled, all of those harsh lines morphed into a handsome, wry expression that made her weak in the knees. Wow. For a moment, this grinning guy was the Garrison she had pined after in high school. Laughing, carefree, confident.
“Your siblings were nice. Kids liked them.”
He mumbled something and fell silent, staring at her. His brows drew together, and the light, smiling demeanor bled away. Just like that, the illusion of the high school Garrison dissolved, leaving a tired, bitter man.
The conversation dropped like a dead fish on the desk between them. Small talk, done. Message received.
