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22
Taran glanced at the four shades of white with a slightly greenish blue tint.
“Erin,” Sydney said as she took a sip of the wine. “I still don’t understand why you need a haint-blue porch. Nor why white with the tiniest blue tint is called haint.”
“Not the entire porch, just the ceiling, and it’s to keep the spirits away,” Erin explained again.
The half-full bottle of red sat on Taran’s glass coffee table between the women. Although they each had a glass of wine, none of them were drunk as they talked about spirits.
“My grandmother always taught me that the spirits think the blue is the sky. According to the Gullah, this makes them pass through and not come into my house,” Erin explained again. Her grandmother’s Native American roots came out not only in Erin’s stories but in her features.
Sydney scoffed.
“It’s a thing people used to believe. A lot of people still do it,” Taran assured Sydney, who rolled her eyes. “My mom, sister, and sister-in-law have haint-blue ceilings on their porches.”
“I told you. Taran gets me.” Erin put her fist out to meet Taran’s.
“My porch ceiling is white,” Taran said after she tapped Erin’s hand with her knuckles. Erin huffed, but Sydney laughed.
“Fine, you two want to mock me, then we’ll talk about Corey instead. Sean said Tim’s article’s done. Now you don’t have any reason not to reach out.” Erin sat back and crossed her arms smugly as Taran groaned.
“What are you thinking?” Sydney asked. “If you reach out, you have to tell him about the contract for the article.”
Taran nodded. “I have to do that, no matter what happens with the rest of it. Unless maybe I just throw it away.”
“It seems dumb not to at least ask him,” Erin pointed out.
“I guess the worst he can say is no. It’s not like I gave Wayne the contract, so if I explain what happened—how mad can Corey be?” Taran waited for either to answer, but no one responded. “No, that was a real question. How mad can Corey be?”
“Well, Corey is pretty umm—emotional?” Erin winced.
“Yeah, he’ll probably freak out before he calms down.” Sydney nodded. “But you’re still giving him complete say if he wants to do it, so I think it’ll be fine.”
“And if Corey says no, I’ll throw it away.” Taran sighed. “As mad as Wayne will be that I never do a feature on Corey, he can’t blame me if Corey won’t agree.”
Erin nodded. “Even if he’s an ass. I wouldn’t think his bosses would let him fire you over something an athlete won’t agree to.”
“Especially when you’ve been getting almost everyone else on Wayne’s list.” Sydney took another sip from her wineglass just as a knock sounded on the door.
Taran got up and was shocked to see who stood on the other side, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. She hadn’t heard from Corey since she fled his room, not even on Diablo. Every time she signed on to play with her niece and nephews, she looked for him. But here he stood on her porch, the dark night shadowing his two-toned eyes.
The second their gazes met, a tingle shot down Taran’s spine. A strong pull had her wanting to step toward him. Let him wrap his arms around her, but she didn’t move.
“Hi.” The barest hint of a grin whispered against his lips.
“Hi,” Taran repeated.
His hand twitched at his side like he wanted to reach out to her.
She leaned against the open door. Even though she hadn’t talked to him, she’d seen him play, and his pitching was better. Tonight, he made it seven innings without letting up a run. “Good game.”
His mouth tightened into a straight line.
“Yeah, my head’s in a good spot, I guess.” However, he didn’t look pleased by that statement. “Can we talk?”
“Uh.” She glanced over her shoulder to see Erin and Sydney craning their necks for a better view. Taran raised an eyebrow, and they stood up quickly.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked, and Taran turned back to him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
