Shake It Up (Man of the Month 8)

Reggie glanced down, then back up again. "You're a cop?"

"That's right. But this isn't an official investigation." He released her hand and put an arm around her, and without thinking she leaned against him, safe in his embrace. "I'm just protecting my girl."

Reggie nodded. "Good. Shit, Taylor, this is wild. I'll let you know, okay?"

"Thanks, Reggie," she said, then watched as he hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder then headed toward the main exit. He was about to push through the doors when he turned back. "Hey, what about that reporter?"

Taylor and Landon exchanged a glance, then hurried toward Reggie.

"What reporter?" Taylor asked.

"This dude from the Daily Texan," he said, referring to the student newspaper. "An older guy. Said he was a grad student in the journalism department, and that he was doing a profile piece on you."

She looked up at Landon, then gave a small shake of her head. She didn't know a thing about anything like that.

"Does this guy have a name?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure I can--oh, wait. Buddy. I remember because that was the name of my first dog. And his last name was--give me a sec. Oh, right. Hall. His last name was Hall. I remember because I used to live in Carothers Hall before I moved off campus."

Taylor said nothing, but she tightened her grip on Landon's hand and willed her legs not to turn to rubber.

"Do you think that had something to do with all this note stuff?" Reggie asked.

"Oh, I doubt it." She forced her voice to stay light, but the way Landon was looking at her, she had a feeling she wasn't succeeding. "I'm pretty sure he's the guy who left a voicemail for me about an article. That must have been what it was about. But let me know if he talks to you again." She forced a smile. "If I'm gonna be famous, it would be nice to know what's going to be said about me."

"True that. And will do."

They said goodbye again, and as soon as Reggie disappeared through the doors, Taylor sagged against the wall, Landon right beside her.

"Tell me," he said, and she nodded.

"I--yes. Just give me a minute, okay? I wasn't--I just wasn't expecting that."

He studied her, those dark eyes seeming to see all the way into her soul. Then he nodded, and took her hand. "It's turning into a beautiful day. There's someplace I want to show you."

She allowed him to lead her outside, then back the way they came. They headed up the street in front of the stadium, and he surprised her by turning inside.

"Fortification," he said, leading her to a Starbucks. "Coffee and conversation."

"We're hanging out inside the stadium?"

"Trust me," he said, then led her back outside once they had their coffees in hand. They continued in the same direction until they reached the fountain and the grass-covered hills at the base of the LBJ Presidential Library.

He took her hand and led her up almost to the copse of trees, then sat on the grass--tugging her down beside him.

They sat that way for a while, looking at the round fountain below, the Texas History Center to the right, the presidential library in front of them, and the stadium and the full expanse of the University campus off to their left.

"When I was a kid, I used to come here in the summer, pretend like it was snowing, and ride a piece of cardboard down this hill," he said. "It was my attempt at having a normal life."

"How old?"

"About seven. Maybe eight."

"Your parents brought you?"

He shook his head. "I'd ride my bike."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Your parents let you do that?"