Chapter 23
Charlotte
The clear, blue skies and fresh air do little to lift my spirits. “It’s not dark enough out here.”
“It’s like eight o’clock in May. What do you expect?”
I give him side eye. I’m having a hard time not grabbing his hand and swinging our arms as we walk. We haven’t discussed holding hands at taco night last week, and he hasn’t tried to do it again.
“Okay, fine. And I admit, the weather is perfect.”
“San Antonio in early May is the best,” Taysom agrees.
I move my cinch bag to the shoulder between him and I. “Except, it would be nice if it were dark so no one sees us,” I say.
“We’re not doing anything wrong.”
“Not yet,” I supply, tossing him a look.
Taysom’s eyes gleam. “You want to do something that’s wrong, huh?” His eyebrows go in the air.
My cheeks burn. “No! I mean, we’re going in there after hours and borrowing an inclinometer. I just…it’s gonna feel like stealing.”
A smile dances about his lips. “Again, if you keep telling yourself something, it’s going to come true.”
“So I should just plan on being arrested, huh?”
“Nah, I could talk the police out of it.”
I snort. “Of course you could.” We take a couple more steps, and then, “You’re a real humble guy, aren’t you?”
“The humblest.” But then he laughs, and I can’t help joining in.
“Shhh! People are going to hear us coming a mile away!”
“We’re already almost there.”
“Exactly!”
We reach the door and my stomach sours. I know it’s inaccurate and entirely unfair, but I feel like this building is what took my job away. It’s what killed the Center.
He types something into his phone and like magic, the door clicks and he pushes it open. The lobby is empty of people and the lights are low.
“Want a tour?”
“How about another time? We’re entering a heist situation right now. No time for lollygagging.”
“Oooh. A heist?” His eyes spark. “Let’s be criminals together.”
Being something together with Taysom? Why do I like the sound of that so much?
His gaze holds mine before I’m assaulted with so much Institute fanciness I hardly know where to look. “Wow.”
“It’s nice, huh?”
“It smells like fresh paint and luxury carpet.” I try to dampen my enthusiasm, but there’s a two-story water feature in the lobby that could belong in any high-end art museum in the world.
They have all this and we can’t even keep our doors open?
Even though it’s unfair, I can’t deny the sheer beauty of the place, with its greige, soaring interior and mid-century modern furniture. The reception desk is flanked by walls of richly swirled chunks of granite. The air is pocked with the scent of sterile lemon and orange.
I give a laugh. “This place is massive! Maybe I should have taken that job offer.” And suddenly, the center’s poverty surges and swells inside me.
It’s been hard to have old, out-of-date equipment and a run-down office that probably barely meets code.
How would it be to show up at work every day to a place that still smells new, with the latest technology at your fingertips?
“I bet we could make that happen if you wanted it,” Taysom drawls, an effortless kindness hanging about his words.
“Thank you,” I manage. “I’ll let you know.”
I should take the job offer. It’s very tempting for the security, stability, and cool tech. But I already know I couldn’t do it. I need the messy. I need the kids who really, really need me. Give me all the MJs—but give them to me early so I can have a chance to make things right.
When we reach a big, metal plaque on the wall to the side of reception, I easily locate the “Taysom Reed Foundation.”
“There you are.”
He shifts from side to side. “I wanted the donation to be anonymous, but did you know that the world strongly discourages football players from remaining anonymous in contributions like these?” He shoots out a breath. “Something about how valuable word of mouth is.”
“Ah, so others will be encouraged to contribute because they want to be like you.” I hope he doesn’t think I’m trying to be facetious. I’m really not. I think it’s admirable that he can draw people in like that. That he can influence people.
He frowns. “Let’s go find us a…what did you call it? An inchometer?”
“Close. It’s an inclinometer.”
He reaches the bank of elevators, but I suck in a breath and grab his hand just before he pushes the button.
“We are taking the stairs, Taysom. That’s secret heist 101.”
He smirks. “Oh, is it now?” He gestures to the door to the stairwell. “Okay, boss.”
We take the stairs as quietly and quickly as we possibly can, with me leading the way. But right as we reach the next floor, he steps in front of me before I go to shove the door open. “I’ll make sure it’s clear.”
After several dramatic and surreptitious peeks, we start down a corridor. Sleek. Clinical. High ceilings. Oatmeal-colored granite floors. It’s so quiet we could hear a pin just thinking about dropping.
“Huh.” Taysom’s voice is a whisper. “So where would one keep one of these inclinometers?”
“Do you guys have a podiatry department?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
“And you offered to give me a tour.” I tsk my tongue, but smile back at him.
His mouth drops open. “Hey, it would have been a great tour. Totally exclusive. Insider knowledge.”
“Just not the podiatry unit.”
“We’ll find it, don’t worry.”
We traipse along the halls, checking the signs on the doors and above the intersecting hallways. It’s any athlete’s dream. An Olympic-sized swimming pool. A weight room that would make the guy who stars in the new Jack Reacher series drool. And therapy rooms. So many therapy rooms.
“There could be an inclinometer in one of the therapy rooms,” I whisper, but there’s no need to check because Taysom points ahead. “Podiatry” in gold lettering on a stark white wall. It lists a few doctors’ names.
“The question is, though, how are we going to get in?”
A whirring starts a fair distance away. “Do you hear that?” Taysom asks, his eyes alert.
“They’re vacuuming.”
“Exactly. They’re going to have to open this door to vacuum at some point.”
“What if they’ve already vacuumed here?”
He chews on his lip. “It wouldn’t hurt to wait around a few minutes.”
“You’re Taysom Reed. You could just walk up to them and ask them to unlock it for you.”
He shrugs. “I could try, but there are no guarantees they’d do it. Besides, this way is more fun.”
He grabs my hand and for a moment, I’m thrown so off-kilter I nearly sway. His grip is firm and warmth travels up my arm, a tingling, flying sensation. “Let’s hide out over here until they get to the room we need,” he says, quietly now as we step into an alcove.
“Dr. Perbutt.” I laugh as I point to the sign on the door.
“Shhh!” Taysom says. He lets go of my hand, only to place a finger to my mouth. His skin is warm against my lips, his manly, musky scent filling my nose. “I’m sure Dr….” he pauses, at war with himself. “Perbutt…” He tries to rein in a snicker. He fails. “He’s a perfectly nice guy.”
“I bet his specialty is gastroenterology.”
Taysom loses it now, bending over, trying to keep his laughter from getting out of hand.
Now it’s my turn to shush him. “Do you think the emphasis is on the ‘Per’? Like ‘Ribbit’? You know, Perbitt? I would totally insist on that if that were my name.”
“Charlotte Perbutt. I like that.”
“The good doctor and I could name our children Pippi and Bubbles. You know? Like pee pee and Bubble Butt?”
Taysom bends at the waist, laughing, tears forming in his eyes. “Or first name Lily. Middle name White?”
I guffaw loudly and smack a hand over my mouth even louder.
He shushes me and as soon as I take a breath, he covers the hand over my mouth with his own, dragging me closer to him. “I can hear them coming,” he whispers, locking his deep blue eyes with mine. Even in the low lighting, I catch a silvery shimmer in the blue-green flecks. My breath catches.
His heart riots against his chest, reverberating through my own. I squeeze my hands into fists. Please don’t get traded, Taysom Reed.
Voices sound down the hall, along with rolling equipment and carts.
One woman is telling a story, loudly regaling every detail.
Something about a dentist who asked one of his patients out and then offered to give her a tooth exam on their first date.
It’s spotty on how much of the story we’re hearing but we’re getting most of it.
The vacuum turns on again. “Pity,” I say, a little louder so he can hear over the machine. “I really wanted to know what happened with the dentist and his patient. Maybe they fell in love.”
But Taysom’s looking at me so seriously that I stop joking around. His gaze goes through me, straight to the inner machinations of my soul.
And for some reason, I want him to keep looking at me like that.