Extraits

Taryn l'appela. Il entra dans son bureau, jeta un coup d'œil aux filles et haussa les sourcils. « Quelque chose que tu veux admettre ? » Il a demandé.

Elle ignora l'humour dans ses yeux. « Kenny, ce sont deux de mes Glands. Chloé et Layla. Nous parlions des nœuds que nous devons apprendre et je me demandais si tu savais quoi que ce soit sur les nœuds. »

Kenny regarda d'elle aux filles et retour. Il s'appuya contre le cadre de la porte comme s'il avait tout le temps du monde... et il prévoyait d'en utiliser chaque seconde pour la torturer.

"Camping ?" Il a demandé.

Chloé hocha la tête. « Nous organisons un camping entièrement bosquet. Layla et moi sommes des Glands, comme l'a dit Taryn. Nous sommes les plus jeunes. Les autres bosquets sont Germes, Jeunes arbres, Attrapes-ciel et Chênes Puissants. Nous serons Germes l'année prochaine. »

Layla hocha la tête.

La bouche de Kenny se contracta et Taryn sut que cela n'avait rien à voir avec la gentillesse innée de Chloé. Au lieu de cela, il stockait des informations qu'il utiliserait contre elle quand elle s'y attendrait le moins.

Elle pensa à souligner qu'elle n'avait pas exactement caché sa position d'assistante de Gardien de Bosquet à qui que ce soit. Elle n'en parlait tout simplement pas beaucoup. Jack savait, mais maintenant qu'elle y pensait, il y avait de fortes chances que les deux autres ne le sachent pas.

« Des Glands, hein ? » a demandé Kenny. "Ce qui signifie que vous appartenez à la..."

"Les futures guerrières du Máa-zib", a dit Chloé d'un ton obligeant. « FWM ».

"Exacte. Cela semble amusant et je peux voir que vous êtes de féroces guerrières. Je suis impressionné."

Taryn était sur le point de lancer un regard noir à Kenny lorsqu'elle réalisa à quel point Chloé parlait. D'habitude, c'était elle qui était timide mais pas, apparemment, avec Kenny. Intéressant. C'était un grand gars. Grand et large, avec des mains massives. Les gens étaient souvent nerveux autour de lui. Mais pas ces deux-là.

"Parle-moi de ton expérience de nœud", a déclaré Taryn. "Tu peux aider ?"

"Oh, je peux," dit-il en lui souriant. "J'étais un Eagle Scout."

"Je sais ce que c'est", a déclaré Layla. "Mon frère veut être un Eagle Scout." Elle plissa le nez. "Mais il a dit qu'il ne m'aiderait pas avec mes nœuds." Ses lèvres retroussées aux commissures. "Il est en colère parce qu'il s'est faufilé pour être avec ses amis le week-end dernier et je l'ai dit."

Taryn fit un signe de tête à Kenny. « Tu veux toujours te moquer du FWM ? »

"Je ne me moquais pas", a-t-il dit en se dirigeant vers son bureau et en s'asseyant sur l'une des chaises. "Mais je suis impressionné par tes compétences de suivi", a-t-il déclaré à Layla.

"Il sort par la fenêtre au bout du couloir", lui a dit Layla. "C'est juste à côté de ma chambre et le sol grince très fort juste là."

« On dirait qu'il méritait de se faire prendre. A-t-il eu des ennuis ? »

Layla hocha la tête. "Il est puni."

"Et fait la moue", a déclaré Kenny. "Sinon, il t'aurait aidé."

Les deux filles rigolèrent.

Kenny tendit la main pour la corde. Chloé l'a passé. Elles lui dirent ce qu'elles essayaient de faire, et plus vite que Taryn ne l'aurait cru possible, il avait tordu la corde en place et la leur avait rendue.

"Wow," souffla Chloé. "Pouvez-vous nous apprendre cela ?"

"Je peux."

"Il faut que ça s'arrête", a-t-elle annoncé.

"D'accord." Taryn s'assit et fit signe à Consuelo de faire de même. L'autre femme resta debout. « Faire arrêter quoi ? »

« Les personnes. La nourriture. Sais-tu que nous avons plus de 12 casseroles dans le réfrigérateur en ce moment ? Et encore plus au congélateur. Des femmes et des enfants passent sans téléphoner. Elles veulent savoir qu'Angel va bien, puis elles veulent me parler. »

Taryn ne prit pas la peine de cacher son amusement. « Quelle horreur. Ce sont toutes des salopes. »

Les yeux de Consuelo se rétrécirent. "Est-ce que tu te moques de moi ? Penses-tu que c'est sûr?"

« Je me sens courageuse et dure. »

"Alors tu es une imbécile."

« Très probablement. » Taryn croisa les jambes. « Que veux-tu que je fasse à ce sujet ? Angel est membre de la communauté. Les gens se soucient de lui. » Elle a décidé que le moment était trop beau pour le laisser passer. "Tu réalises qu'ils feraient la même chose pour toi, si tu étais malade ou blessée, n'est-ce pas ?"

Consuelo recula d'un pas et regarda autour d'elle, comme si elle s'attendait à ce que les parois d'un piège se referment sur elle. « Merde. Tu as raison. Ce serait horrible. Ils sont si gentils et normaux. »

"Dégoûtant", a convenu Taryn.

Le regard furieux de Consuelo revint. "Tu es claire que je pourrais te tuer là où tu es assise, n'est-ce pas ?"

« Ou à peu près n'importe où ailleurs. Mais tu ne le feras pas. Profite de la nourriture. Je suis sûre que tout a bon goût. »

"Il y a ça", a-t-elle admis à contrecœur. "Mais ils sont chez moi."

"Reste avec Kent pendant les deux prochains jours."

Les sourcils de Consuelo se haussèrent. « Chez lui ? Il a un enfant. »

"Il a un fils adolescent qui a probablement deviné que vous avez eu des relations sexuelles au moins une fois."

« Oh mon Dieu. Tu ne viens pas de dire ça. »

« Je te l’ai dit », dit fermement Taryn. « J'ai été extrêmement claire. Mais as-tu écouté ? »

Si Angel n'avait pas eu l'impression que quelque chose l'avait frappé avec le flanc d'une montagne, il aurait apprécié l'agitation. Mais en ce moment, il avait du mal à se concentrer et son corps lui faisait mal, comme s'il attrapait la pire grippe de tous les temps.

« Ouais, tu l’as dit, » admit-il.

Il était dans un lit, ce qui signifiait qu'il n'était pas encore sur le bord de la route. Mais il ne se souvient pas de grand-chose du voyage. Il a vu l'intraveineuse connectée à son bras et savait que le lit dans lequel il se trouvait n'était pas le sien.

« Hôpital, n'est-ce pas ? » Il a demandé.

« Oui, tu es à l'hôpital. Tu as été mordu par un serpent venimeux, ce qui est totalement ridicule. »

"Je me sens comme de la merde", lui a-t-il dit. "Que dirais-tu d'un peu de sympathie ?"

"Je ne suis pas sûre que tu le mérites." Mais elle s'est assise à côté de lui sur son lit pendant qu'elle parlait et elle a mis un chiffon frais sur son front.

"Je pensais que Larissa plaisantait", a-t-il admis, les événements de plus tôt dans la journée lui revenant. Le serpent, la morsure, Larissa appelant une ambulance. "J'ai remis le serpent dans le conteneur."

« Oui tu l’as fait. Larissa est très reconnaissante et elle se sent coupable. »

Il regarda Taryn. « Tu vas lui crier dessus, n'est-ce pas ? »

"Encore et encore."

"Salut," dit-il. « Je suis Angel. Je travaille pour CDS en ville. Problème de voiture ? »

Larissa lui sourit. « Alors vous êtes le mystérieux Angel. J'ai tout entendu sur vous. Ravi de vous rencontrer enfin. »

Ils se sont serré la main. Il jeta un coup d'œil à la voiture.

"Quel est le problème ?"

Larisa soupira. « Je transporte quelques serpents en voie de disparition dans un refuge de reptiles dans le désert. J'allais prendre l'autoroute à travers les montagnes. Je pensais que ce serait une belle route. »

Elle a mentionné plusieurs fleurs sauvages qui étaient en fleurs et leur importance pour l'écosystème. Angel attendit patiemment.

Quand elle s'arrêta pour reprendre son souffle, il lui fit signe de sa voiture. « Pourquoi avez-vous arrêté ? »

« Oh, d'accord. Je ne suis pas exactement une personne serpent. Je sais que ce sont des gens aussi, mais je préfère les choses avec de la fourrure. Alors, quand j'ai jeté un coup d'œil et réalisée que le couvercle n'était pas complètement fixé sur le récipient, j'ai en quelque sorte paniquée. Je pense que l'un d'eux est en vrac dans la voiture. » Elle tendit son téléphone portable. "J'étais sur le point d'appeler Jack."

Pendant une seconde, il songea à la laisser faire. Taryn l'avait prévenue que Larissa était une bienfaitrice qui aimait entraîner tout le monde dans ses projets. Voici une démonstration vivante. Mais en vérité, il n'avait aucun problème avec les serpents, et combien de temps cela pouvait-il prendre pour en capturer un dans une voiture ?

"Je vais m'en occuper", a-t-il dit. "Avez-vous fermé le couvercle avant de sortir ?"

Larisa secoua la tête. « J'ai crié et j'ai arrêtée la voiture. Les clés sont toujours sur le contact. »

Il retint un sourire. "Si vous avez peur des serpents, pourquoi avez-vous acceptée de les conduire n'importe où ?"

« Quelqu'un devait le faire. Ils ont besoin d'un foyer. »

Oui, une bienfaitrice. Taryn avait raison : Larissa était un problème. Mais une fois qu'il aura remis le ou les serpents dans leur contenant, ce n'est pas son problème.

Il se dirigea vers la voiture. « Savez-vous s'ils mordent ? » Il ouvrit la portière et monta dans le véhicule.

« Je ne suis pas sûre. Oh, et quelqu'un a mentionné qu'ils pourraient être venimeux. »

La jolie fillette de 7 ans rayonnait sur Angel. « C'est ma mère. Maman, voici Angel, notre Gardien de Bosquet. Et Taryn. Elle l'aide. »

La mère de Regan avait probablement quelques années de plus que Taryn et portait une large alliance. Mais cela ne l'a pas empêchée de battre des yeux vers Angel.

"Regan en dit tellement sur vous", a-t-elle jailli. "Vous faites un travail formidable avec toutes les filles." Tout en parlant, elle posa sa main sur l'avant-bras d'Angel. "Si vous avez besoin d'aide supplémentaire, vous pouvez m'appeler."

Si Angel n'avait pas eu l'air si nerveux, Taryn aurait pu être ennuyée. Depuis quand était-elle devenue invisible ? Mais son irritation était tempérée par l'amusement.

"Oh, regarde," dit-elle en regardant vers l'entrée. « Félicia est là. Je reviens tout de suite. »

"Ne me quitte pas," dit Angel en serrant les dents.

Taryn lui sourit. « Regan, ta mère et toi allez bien prendre soin de lui, n'est-ce pas ? »

La petite fille acquiesça vigoureusement.

Angel lança à Taryn un regard qui promettait une vengeance plus tard. Elle ne pouvait qu'espérer qu'il tiendrait parole. Elle traversa jusqu'à l'endroit où Félicia se tenait à regarder toutes les filles et leurs mères.

Patience prit la robe noire d'Isabel et l'enfila. C'était un style de débardeur simple, ajusté, avec une couture princesse et un ourlet à six bons pouces au-dessus de son genou.

"Bien," dit Taryn. "Ça te va très bien."

"C'est serré." Patience tira sur l'ourlet. "Et court."

"Sexy", corrigea Taryn. "Il te faut un bon soutien-gorge push-up avec ça et un string assorti." Elle sourit. "Seulement ne le laisse pas te voir t’habiller ou vous n'irez jamais dîner."

Patience inspira. « Tu as raison. Je suis occupée avec Brew-haha et il est occupé avec CDS. Nous avons Lillie et tout ce qui fait fonctionner la maison. Je dois être plus aventureuse. » Elle se tourna vers Isabel. "Je la prends!"

"Tu devrais," lui dit Isabel avec un sourire. « C'est Taryn. Elle nous inspire toutes. »

Taryn sortit de la robe rouge et la remit sur le cintre. « Je la veux, c'est sûr. Maintenant, pour le costume bordé de serpent. »

Isabelle soupira. « Je ne te demanderai même pas si tu as des chaussures dignes de ça. J'ai vue ce que tu portes. »

« Si je n'ai pas les bonnes chaussures, je les achèterai. J'adore les vêtements et les accessoires et je me fiche de savoir qui le sait. »

"Je veux emprunter ton attitude pour une nuit", lui a dit Patience. "Justice ne saurait pas ce qui l'a frappé."

« Ford non plus », a admis Isabel.

"Vos hommes vous aiment comme vous êtes", leur a rappelé Taryn. "Et mon attitude a un prix."

"Je te blâme pour ça," dit-elle à Jack.

« Nous redonnons à la communauté. C'est une bonne chose. »

"Je te le rappellerai plus tard, quand je te frapperai avec un bâton."

Il lui fit un clin d'œil et désigna les escaliers. "Le bureau de la Maire est par là."

"Comment le sais-tu ?"

"Je suis un homme mystérieux."

"Tu as probablement regardé avant notre départ."

"Ça aussi."

** Extrait offert par Susan Mallery ** (VO)

"We both know where this is going."

Taryn Crawford glanced up at the man standing by her table and ignored the rush of anticipation when she saw who he was. He was tall, with broad shoulders and gray eyes. But the most compelling feature-the one she would guess people pretended didn't exist-was the scar on his neck. As if someone had once tried to slit his throat. Taryn idly wondered what had happened to the person who failed.

She supposed there were plenty of women who would be intimidated by the man in front of her. The sheer volume of muscle he had might make someone apprehensive. Not her, of course. When in doubt she put on a power suit and killer heels. If those failed her, she would simply work harder than anyone else. Whatever it took to win. Sure, there was a price, but she was okay with that.

Which was why she was able to stare coolly back and ask, "Do we?"

One corner of his mouth curved slightly in a sort of half smile. "Sure, but if you're more comfortable pretending we don't, I can make that work, too."

"A challenge. Intriguing. You don't expect that to be enough to make me defensive so I start saying more than I had planned, do you?" She made sure she was plenty relaxed in her chair. She would guess the man was paying as much attention to her body language as her words. Maybe more. She hoped he wouldn't make things easy. She was tired of easy.

"I would hate for you to be disappointed," she murmured.

The smile turned genuine. "I'd hate that, too." He pulled out the chair opposite hers. "May I?" She nodded. He sat.

It was barely after ten on a Tuesday morning. Brew-haha, the local coffee place she'd escaped to for a few minutes of solitude before she returned to the current chaos at her office, was relatively quiet. She'd ordered a latte and had pulled out her tablet to catch up on the latest financial news. Until she'd been interrupted. Nice to know this was going to be a good day.

She studied the man across from her. He was older than the boys, she thought. The three men she worked with-Jack, Sam and Kenny, aka "the boys"-were all in their early to mid-thirties. Her guest was nearer to forty. Just old enough to have the experience to make things intriguing, she thought.

"We've never been introduced," she said.

"You know who I am."

A statement, not a question. "Do I?"

One dark eyebrow rose. "Angel Whittaker. I work at CDS."

Otherwise known as the bodyguard school, she reminded herself. For a small town, Fool's Gold had its share of unusual businesses. "Taryn Crawford."

She waited, but he didn't make a move.

"We're not shaking hands?" she asked, then picked up her latte with both hers. Just to be difficult, because being difficult would make things more fun.

"I figured we'd save the touching for later. I find it's better when that sort of thing happens in private."

Taryn had opened Score, her PR firm, eight years ago. She'd had to deal with unwelcome passes, assumptions she was an idiot, being asked who the boss was, pats on her butt and people presuming that if she worked with three ex-football players, she must have gotten her job by sleeping with them. She was used to staying calm, keeping her opinions to herself and gaining victory through the unanticipated side run.

This time Angel had been the one to put the first points on the board. He was good, she thought, intrigued and only slightly miffed.

"Are you coming on to me, Mr. Whittaker? Because it's still a little early in the morning for that sort of thing."

"You'll know when I'm making my move," he informed her. "Right now I'm simply telling you how things are."

"Which takes us back to your comment that we both know where this is going. I'll admit to being confused. Perhaps you have me mixed up with someone else."

She uncrossed, then recrossed her long legs. She wasn't trying to be provocative, but if Angel got distracted, it was hardly her fault.

For a second she allowed herself to wonder how she would have been different if she'd been able to grow up in a more traditional home. One with the requisite 2.5 children and somewhat normal parents. She certainly wouldn't be as driven. Or as tough. Sometimes she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

He leaned toward her. "I hadn't taken you for the type to play games."

"We all play games," she told him.

"Fair enough. Then I'll be blunt."

She sipped her coffee, then swallowed. "Please."

"I saw you last fall."

"How nice," she murmured.

When she'd been scouting locations. Moving a company required time and effort. They'd only truly settled in Fool's Gold a couple of months ago. But she had been in town the previous fall, and yes, she'd seen Angel, as well. Found out who he was and had wondered about…possibilities. Not that she was going to admit that to him.

"I watched you," he continued.

"Should I be concerned you're a stalker?"

"Not when you were watching me right back."

He'd noticed? Damn. She'd tried to be subtle. She thought about lying but decided to simply stay silent. After a second, he continued.

"So we've finished sizing each other up," he said. "Now it's time to move on to the next phase of the game."

"There are phases?" Which was an actual question. No point in mentioning the game. She knew what they were doing. Still, it was entertaining to pretend she didn't. "Several."

"Do you provide instructions or a scorecard?" His cool gray eyes stayed focused on her face. "You don't play that way."

"Be careful with your assumptions."

"I'm not assuming."

He had an appealing voice. Low with a hint of… Not the Deep South, she thought. But there was a cadence. Virginia? West Virginia?

She put down her mug. "If I buy in to your assertion-which I'm not admitting I do."

"Of course not."

She ignored the words and the amusement tugging at his lips. "Where do you see this going?"

He leaned back in his chair. "This is a mating game, Taryn. Or didn't you know?"

Ah, his first mistake. She kept her eyes locked with his and didn't let her triumph show. "You want to marry me?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Not that kind of mating."

"If you're not precise, it's difficult to be sure. So you want to sleep with me."

"Yes, but it's about more than that."

She let her gaze drift down his chest, then moved to his arms. Despite the cool late-April temperatures, he wore a T-shirt and no jacket. She could see a tattoo of a rose, along with several scars on his arms. His hands were strong and equally battered.

She returned her attention to the scar on his neck and decided to ask the obvious. "What happened to the other guy?"

He touched the side of his throat, then shrugged. "He had a very bad day."

Taryn lived in the world of business. She could talk finance and sales projections, but her real gift was designing public relationship campaigns that were innovative and successful. At Score the work was divided among the four partners. Kenny and Jack were the rainmakers. They found prospective clients and reeled them in. Sam handled the money. But Taryn was the creative engine that steered the ship.

She was used to executives, graphic artists, bankers and everything in between. In her sphere, she was a power player and no one crossed her. But Angel was from a different sphere altogether. His clout didn't come from a boardroom or the right suit. He carried it in his body. It was part of who he was.

She knew a few odds and ends about him. People she respected and trusted liked him. But the details? They were still a mystery. One she would like to solve.

"What makes you think I'm the least bit interested?" she asked.

"You're still here."

A good point. She didn't want another executive- he would be too much like her. As for sports heroes, she worked with three and they exhausted her. Angel was different. Right now different sounded like exactly what she needed.

"Effort will be required," she told him.

"Ditto."

She laughed at the unexpected statement.

"You didn't think I'd be easy, did you?" he asked.

"Apparently not."

He stood. "Don't worry. I'm good at planning the right op for the right mission and then seeing it through." He crossed to the door, then turned back to her. "And I'm good at waiting."

He walked out, leaving her with her rapidly cooling coffee and an article on consumer confidence that had just gotten a whole lot less interesting than her encounter with an intriguing man named Angel.

Smug felt good, Angel thought as he crossed the street and headed for City Hall. He'd been waiting for the right moment to talk to Taryn, and when he'd seen her having coffee by herself, he'd decided to act. She was as intriguing as he'd hoped-intelligent, confident and sexy as hell. A combination he would have trouble resisting under the best of circumstances. But in this town, with her always around… He'd wanted to make his move the first day.

Waiting had been better, he told himself as he jogged up the stairs to the front of the government building. Now he could put his plan into action. The one that led them down a road of temptation, with an ultimate objective that should satisfy them both.

He took more stairs to the second floor and followed the signs to the mayor's office.

Mayor Marsha Tilson was California's longest-serving mayor. She served the town well and seemed to know everyone's secrets. Angel had yet to figure out where she got her information, but from what he'd seen, she had a network that would put most governments to shame.

He entered her office exactly fifteen seconds before the time of his appointment.

Her assistant, an older woman in a black blazer, looked up at him with red and puffy eyes. Angel immediately sensed bubbling emotion and glanced around the room to discover all available exits.

The woman, a full-figured brunette, sniffed. "You must be Mr. Whittaker. Go right in. She's expecting you."

Angel did as instructed, hoping to find a calmer atmosphere in the mayor's office. His cautious optimism was rewarded. Mayor Marsha looked as she always did-perfectly put together. She wore a light green suit and pearls and had her white hair neatly swirled up in a bun. She smiled and stood when she saw him.

"Mr. Whittaker. You made it."

"Angel, please." He crossed the room and shook hands with her, then settled in the seat across from hers.

Her office was large with several windows. Behind her desk were the flags of the United States and the state of California, along with a large seal he would guess represented the city of Fool's Gold.

"Your assistant's upset," he said.

"Marjorie's worked with me for years. But her twin daughters have settled in Portland, Oregon. They're both pregnant. Marjorie's husband retired, so they're going to move closer to family. While she's excited about being nearer to her daughters and future grandchildren, she's sad about leaving all of us here."

More than he wanted to know, he thought, keeping his expression polite.

Mayor Marsha smiled. "Now I'll have to find someone new. Hiring staff is relatively easy, but an assistant is a different matter. There has to be chemistry and trust. One can't let just anyone know the town's secrets." The smile widened. "Not why you came to see me today." She leaned forward and picked up a file from the stack on her large desk.

"All right, Angel, let's see what we have here." She slipped on reading glasses. "You're interested in a project that will involve you with the community."

Angel had been to some of the most dangerous parts of the world in various capacities. He'd taken his sniper training into the private sector and now designed curricula for people training to be professional bodyguards. Not much surprised him. But he would swear he hadn't told anyone his reason for making his appointment with Mayor Marsha, which begged the question: How did the old lady know?

She glanced at him over her glasses. "Did I have that correct?"

He decided he had little choice but to simply nod and say, "Yes, ma'am."

The smile returned. "Good. You have a unique background and an unusual skill set. I've given the matter a lot of thought and I think you'd be a perfect Grove Keeper."

Grove what? "Ma'am?"

"Are you familiar with the history of the town?" she asked, then closed the folder. "This is California, so there was the expected exploration by the Spanish in the 1700s, but long before that, Fool's Gold was settled by the Maa-zib Tribe."

Angel had heard something about that. "A branch of Mayans," he murmured. "Matriarchal."

"Yes." The smile returned. "I would guess you'd respect a group of women who only want to use a man for sex."

Angel wasn't sure if he should flinch or pat the old lady on the back. Instead he cleared his throat. "All right," he said slowly. "Interesting."

"It is. We have long celebrated our Maa-zib culture, and that includes a youth group. Future Warriors of the Maa-zib. Young people start with a two-month introduction to what it's like to be in the FWM. That's followed by four years of membership. We have Acorns, Sprouts, Saplings, Sky-Reachers and Mighty Oaks. Each group or troop is known as a grove, and the person in charge is a Grove Keeper."

She put down her glasses. "We have a grove in need of a keeper, and I think they need you."

Kids, he thought with surprise. He liked kids. His goal had been to get involved with Fool's Gold because he'd decided to stay here and he'd been raised to give back to the community. He'd thought maybe he could volunteer on some advisory committee or teach a continuing ed class-although his skill set didn't exactly fit in the regular world. Still…kids.

He hesitated only a second, then realized it had been long enough since he'd lost Marcus. The pain was still there-would always be a part of him, like a scar, or his heart-but it had become manageable. He thought by now he would be able to work with teenaged boys without wanting to argue with the heavens about how unfair it had all been.

"Sure," he said easily. "I can run a grove."

Amusement twinkled in Mayor Marsha's blue eyes. "I'm glad to hear it. I think you'll find the experience fulfilling on several levels. I'll make sure you get your material in the next few days. Then you can meet with the Grove Council."

He grinned. "Seriously? There's a Grove Council?"

She laughed. "Of course. These are Future Warriors of the Maa-zib. What else would there be?"

She rose and he did, as well. "Thank you, Angel. Usually I have to go out and convince new residents to pitch in. I appreciate that you came to me." She studied him. "I assume your interest in giving back is the result of your background. You grew up in a coal mining town, didn't you? West Virginia?"

While the information wasn't secret, it wasn't something he shared very often. "You're a spooky woman," he told her. "You know that, right?"

The smile broadened. "Not many people have the courage to say it to my face, but I do hope that's what they're saying behind my back."