in his life and he didn’t like it. Not at all.
7
Tara and Clint finally managed to get Ashley to sleep later that night, after reading her at least six stories and fetching her several glasses of water. Poor thing. Tara felt shaken enough after this evening herself. She couldn’t imagine how it must have felt for Ashley, especially on her first night in a new home.
She leaned over and kissed the little girl on the top of the head and made sure she was tucked in tight, then went to the door while Clint said his goodnights to his daughter. Tara did her best not to eavesdrop, but in the situation it was kind of impossible to avoid. There was only so far she could walk away and their voices carried.
“Go to sleep, honey,” Clint said, kissing his daughter’s head once more. “I’ll be just downstairs if you need me.”
“I miss my bed, Daddy,” Ashley said, her voice so small and sad, it broke Tara’s heart. “I just want to go home.”
Heart aching, she wandered into the kitchen. It was definitely way past wine o’clock. As she poured herself a glass of chardonnay, she heard Clint’s footsteps pounding down the stairs and toward the bathroom. Soon, the sound of the shower echoed and Tara went to the corner of the living room to check her emails in the little home office she had set up there.
She scrolled through messages, then popped onto social media to see how her latest posts were doing. Once the board hired a new permanent director, the plan was to transition Tara back to the social media post—so in the meantime, it was being handled by a temp. The girl was nice enough, but she just wasn’t as good at engaging people as Tara had been. So in addition to being director, Tara found herself still doing about half of her old job, too. With all that work on her plate, and so much urgency behind this legislation, it was little wonder that everything else fell by the wayside—including relationships. Who had time for that when there was a new mountain to conquer, right?
People called her a go-getter, and Tara didn’t disagree. She’d always been that way, from the time she was seven and her mother had run for mayor of their small town on a platform of small business rights. The cause had been close to Tara’s heart at the time because her favorite bookstore in town had been going out of business and that had been unacceptable to her. She’d brought it up to her mother several times and had hoped that her mother would take action to support the store—but that never happened, and the bookstore went under. Her mother won the election but taught her daughter a harsh lesson that day. Tara learned that she couldn’t count on other people to prioritize something just because it mattered to her—not even if the person was her own mother. And if she wanted to make a difference, she’d have to step up and do it herself.
It was a lesson Tara carried with her still.
She’d just finished going through all her accounts when the soft strain of instrumental, new-age music drifted from behind her. Curious, she closed her laptop and peeked over her shoulder, wine glass in hand, to see what was going on.
In the opposite corner of the open living room was a shirtless Clint on a black yoga mat in a Downward Dog position. She’d never really thought guys exercising was particularly sexy, but damn. The way he was filling out those black gym shorts was impressive, to say the least, and that pose gave her a perfect view. She swallowed her wine and drank her fill of him, glad he had no idea she was up here ogling him, until…
“If you don’t quit staring I’ll have to start charging you for the show,” he said, his tone snarky.
Damn.
Good thing her wine glass was empty now or she would have spilled it everywhere, as quickly as she swivelled back to face her computer. Cheeks hot and heart racing, she swallowed hard and hurried back to the kitchen for a refill, looking anywhere but at him now. Him and his buff, naked chest. Oh God. “I wasn’t staring,” she said, her words tumbling out in an embarrassed rush. “I was just trying to figure out what you were doing.”
“Yoga,” he said, laughter evident in his voice. He was enjoying her discomfort, apparently. “Sorry to