U Fool’s Gold, actually, but yes. They have an excellent academic reputation and they’re doing some work with UC Davis to expand the enology department.”
“The what?”
“The study of wine. Our vineyards are doing very well here and we’re starting to be known as a small but prestigious region. We’re petitioning the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau to make Fool’s Gold an AVA.” She paused. “American Viticulture Area. For example, the Napa Valley is an AVA here in California. There’s also Red Mountain in Washington State. We want a Fool’s Gold AVA.”
“Okay,” Jack said slowly. “I don’t know anything about growing wine or AVAs.” Although he did enjoy a nice merlot.
“Of course you don’t,” Mayor Marsha told him. “I invited you here to discuss football.”
Jack’s head hurt from the lightning fast change in topics. The old girl sure knew how to keep a guy confused.
“You want help with your fantasy team?” he asked cautiously.
The mayor laughed. “No, but thank you for that offer. My problem is more real world than that. Cal U Fool’s Gold needs a new football coach. Well, more than that. The school needs a whole program.”
Coaching? A program? “Not my area of expertise. The athletic director handles that sort of thing, in conjunction with the chancellor and the president of the college. There are also headhunters who specialize in finding coaches.”
“All of which is being explored. However, there is a citizen advisory position on the search committee. That’s where you come in, Jack. I want you to be our citizen adviser. You’re an experienced player, you know what makes a good coach and knowing you’re helping will inspire the group. You are uniquely qualified for this. You’ve made Fool’s Gold your home. I hope you’ll be willing to give back to the community that has taken you in and made you feel welcome.”
He grinned. “You’re not even subtle with the guilt,” he said.
“I don’t see any point. We both know you’re going to agree. Sooner rather than later suits me best, but if you need to be persuaded, I can do that, too.”
“Somehow I know that would involve Taryn.”
“She is only one of many options I have at my disposal.”
“I appreciate the honesty.”
She smiled, but didn’t speak.
Jack shook his head and knew there was no point in avoiding the inevitable. “I’m sure you have better things to do with your day than manipulate me. Sure, I’ll serve on your committee. Give them my contact information.”
Mayor Marsha rose and held out her hand. “I already have. Thank you, Jack. I appreciate your volunteering.”
He shook hands with her. “You’re a scary broad, you know that, right?”
Her smile turned mischievous. “I count on it.”
* * *
LARISSA DIDN’T LIKE feeling unsettled. It wasn’t her way. When there was a problem, she dived in headfirst. If something needed saving—she was there. But as far as she knew, no mammals, birds or reptiles needed her help. Not that she was allowed to help reptiles anymore. There had been an unfortunate incident a couple of months ago involving venomous snakes and Taryn’s fiancé, Angel. Larissa still felt really bad about that.
She walked around in her too-large office. It was attached to Jack’s. She had a computer where she managed his calendar and some file cabinets that were mostly empty. She wasn’t really a filer. She preferred to pile and when the piles got too tall, she shoved them into a cabinet. Maybe a messy system, but it worked for her.
This office was something she accepted but didn’t really like. Her tiny kingdom was the massage room at the other end of the building. There the space was exactly how she wanted it. From the color of the walls to the sound system to the massage table she’d had customized to fit her specifications. The linens were soft yet absorbent. She special ordered oils with an increased capacity to reduce inflammation and deaden pain while keeping the guys from smelling like flowers. For Taryn, she had a collection of organic oils. She had music playlists customized to each of her clients and had personally chosen all the robes and towels used in the massage room, showers and saunas.
In that place, she was comfortable. Calm. In control. But in the rest of her life, well, it was always a crapshoot.
Larissa shut off her computer and walked down the hall to Taryn’s office. Her friend was on the phone, but waved her in. Larissa crossed the thickly carpeted floor. The plushness was required because Taryn had a habit of kicking off her shoes the second she got to work. She spent most of her day barefoot—something Larissa had never understood. Why buy shoes that were too uncomfortable to wear? But then she didn’t get any part of Taryn’s wardrobe.
Today her boss had on a black-and-white color-block sleeveless dress. There was a jacket slung over the visitor chair and some lethal-looking shoes by the desk. The shoes were also black and white. Some kind of fur, with wide stripes and a scary four-or five-inch geometric, sculpted heel.
While Taryn wrapped up her call, Larissa kicked off her own comfy flats and carefully stepped into Taryn’s ridiculous shoes. The additional five inches made her totter precariously and she had to hang on to the desk to stay upright. Once she was fairly confident of her balance, she shrugged into the jacket and then carefully made her way to the closed doors behind Taryn’s desk.
“Sure, Jerry,” Taryn said, her voice thick with suppressed laughter. “I’m all over that. Does Tuesday work for you?”
Larissa pulled open the right-hand door and studied herself in the wide full-length mirror.
The jacket was too small. Taryn might be taller, but she was a good size thinner. But even with it pulling across the shoulders and not coming close to closing, she could see how the cut defined her upper body and made her waist disappear.
The shoes might technically match her black yoga pants, but they looked ridiculous with the casual style. And they were impossible to walk in. Still, they were sexy, she thought wistfully. Sexy and sophisticated.
“I swear to God, you’re going to kill yourself one of these days,” Taryn said, coming up behind her. “You know you can’t walk in high heels.”
Larissa carefully turned to check out the shoes from more than one angle. “I know, but you always look so stylish. I look like I shop at a resale store.”
“Because you do.”
“My clothes are new,” Larissa said, trying not to sound defensive. Which was hard, because she felt defensive. “New-ish. They were when I bought them.”
“Uh-huh,” Taryn said, sounding unconvinced. “We have this conversation every few months. You say you want to dress better, I offer to help. You promise to set up a shopping date with me and never do.”
Larissa stepped out of the shoes and handed the jacket to her friend. “I know. I’m not really the makeover type. I like to keep things simple.” She studied her face in the mirror. It was clean and her skin was nice. Her hair was a good color. Medium
