Lindy Zart - The Charmed Life of Taryn

The Charmed Life of Taryn

From USA Today bestselling author

Lindy Zart

The Charmed Life of Taryn

Published 2016 by Chameleon Writer

Copyright 2016 Chameleon Writer/Lindy Zart

Cover Model: Nicole Kauffman

Cover photography credit: Wendi Stitzer

Cover design 2019 by Pink Ink Designs

Formatting by Nancy K. Mueller

Edited by Chameleon Writer

Previously titled Charmed

Previously published 2012 by Lindy Zart

Previous copyright 2012 Lindy Zart

ISBN-10: 1-945164-07-7

ISBN-13: 978-1-945164-07-1

This book is a work of fiction.

N AMES, CHARACTERS, places, and incidents either are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For Kim

for your continued interest in the book and always asking for the next chapterfor loving this story so much I was compelled (no pun intended) to finish it.

1

I turned eighteen today . Yippee.

The most exciting news of the day was, as of this afternoon, I would be living in an apartment with my best friend Angela. I was pretty much moved in and had been staying there since I graduated from high school last week, but technically, my name couldnt be put on the lease until today.

I hurriedly showered and hopped out of the tub with a little more exuberance than was necessary, did a slippery dance on the heels of my feet, and steadied myself with a hand clenching the sink ledge and a sigh of relief. A broken back or neck I so did not need. Not on my eighteenth birthday. Pssshh.

With a towel over my body and another confining my rebellious hair, I did a little run and slid on my feet from the bathroom to the hallway, grinning as I caught myself against the tan-colored wall. Okay, so I understood that I was asking for trouble, what with barely remaining on my feet a mere minute ago, but I liked to be reckless. Sort ofokay, not really.

The apartment was compact with the largest area being the living room, which was a mismatch of chairs and a red couchparts of Angela and me intermeshing to make a circus out of our living spaces. With my love of all things coffee, and Angelas obsession with caramel, it even smelled like a combination of us with the similarly scented candles. It was wacky and perfect.

In the tiny bedroom full of boxes, and where most of the surfaces were covered with clothes, I dressed in red shorts, a yellow and white diagonally striped shirt, and tan slip-on shoes. I ran a large-toothed comb through my tangled curls, thinking about giving up halfway through and leaving the mass of hair a mound of snarls around my head. But since I wasnt a quitter, I persevered, getting myself into some semblance of order.

Twenty minutes later, with a powdered doughnut dangling from my lips, and car keys in one hand and my sparkly pink purse in the other, I was out the door and on my way to work.

Not one to usually observe the earths majestic beauty with an appreciative eye, I was unaware of the leafy trees blowing in the slight breeze, or of how dazzling was the sun, other than to my sensitive eyes I quickly covered with dark sunglasses. I was on a mission to make money, and that mission did not include paying attention to my surroundings. There would be plenty of time for that when I was old and had nowhere to go.

Platteville, Wisconsin was a college town with a population in the eleven thousands. It was a nice city with history and class to it, and a low crime rate. It also had a one way street Id driven down the wrong way a couple times. And lots of college kidswhich I had yet to decide whether or not I wanted to be.

I knew I wanted to have a career of some kind, at some point, but I really had no hobbies, no desire to be anything cool or noteworthy. I was a mediocre person, I supposed. My one goal was to not hate my job, and I knew I couldnt work at a thrift store my whole life. Well, I could, but I didnt want to. Today, my birthday, was not the day to figure it out, because, well, nothing good ever came from my birthdays.

On my sixth birthday I broke out in hives.

On my tenth birthday my pet rabbit died.

On my fourteenth birthday I chipped a front tooth.

On my sixteenth birthday I was dumped by my boyfriend.

Me and birthdayswe didnt really get along.

Driving along in my usual unobservant way, I didnt see the person until I almost hit him with my car. With a cry of surprise on my lips, I reflexively hit the brakes, spinning gravel beneath the tires. The car jerked to a stop, causing my head to bang on the steering wheel. The car horn tooted in surprise, as if to belatedly announce the danger before me.

I looked up, rubbing the sore spot on my forehead, and glared through my now crooked sunglasses at the man standing in my parking space. It took me months of timing my arrival just right to get that parking spot, and now some imposing dude thought he could stand there and make it his. He didnt even have a car. As my eyes took in the image before me, my annoyance slowly turned to unease.

With hair the color of midnight, it was way creepy that his eyes were as well. The kind of midnight without stars, or the moon. Total darkness. His features were slim and angular, but nonetheless, striking. The man was covered in black from his shirt to his boots, the only color variation to his gothic appearance was the white of his skin. His head was cocked as he studied me with a calculating look on his face. That look said he knew me, knew all my deepest and darkest thoughts, and had plans for that data.

I knew I wasnt anything extraordinary to look at with my red curly hair, freckles, brown eyes, and otherwise average features, but the way he looked at me suggested he saw much more. Like he knew I had badness to me, and he wanted to exploit it. It was unnerving. Also, it was inaccurate, because I was pretty much a marshmallow on the inside.

With my gaze captured by his, I felt cold, frightened. I was frozen in place and it was a horrible feelingknowing I should try to escape but unable. Plus, I dont know, I didnt really feel like doing anything. Sitting here seemed like a good idea. Alarms sounded in my head, told me to run and run fast, but since I wasnt a runner, and also presently numb, I remained seated.

I wanted to look away, tried to look away, and couldnt. His death eyes held me entranced. Something in me was drawn to him, the dark power that was him appealed to me on some level I couldnt understand. What was going on? He scared me and yet I wanted to be closer to him, like that time I saw Yogi the Bear at Jellystone when I was seven.

The roof above my head dented in like a cow decided to jump on top of my car, the sound of metal crunching and shrieking enough to break the trance from which I seemed to be the victim. I dragged my gaze from the blacked-eyed man, my eyes shooting up to the roof of my car in disbelief. I was shaking and hot and cold at the same time, my pulse telling me I didnt need to run to get a workoutI simply needed to be terrified. Did a cow really just somehow land on my car? Was there a tornado going on that I was not privy to know about?