Chapter Nine

Andy stepped out of his car when Millie pulled into her driveway. She killed the engine but sat in her car for a moment.

He’d spent an hour thinking about how to approach this and decided his only hope was if she thought she had all the power. He exited his car and strolled toward hers, stopping a few feet away to wait.

Finally, she got out of her car and affected an annoyed stance. With a bored tone, she said, “I thought I made it pretty clear that I wasn’t interested in seeing you again.”

“You did.”

Twirling her finger in a circle, she said, “Then turn around and get into your car, Andy. Otherwise I’ll have to call the cops for trespassing.”

The idea of being arrested again made his blood freeze for a second, but he couldn’t give up so easily. He raised his hands. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I only wanted to talk for the sake of our past friendship.”

Her nose twitched, like a rabbit facing a potential predator, but he could tell she would cave. “Make it quick.”

This was it—his only chance. He pretended his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Sorry. I’ve been waiting on a text.”

While she unloaded her skis from the ski rack, he opened up the voice recorder and hit “Play”; then he crossed his arms while keeping the phone in front of his chest.

“Well?” she asked, hugging her skis to her side.

“Help me understand why you threw me under the bus. I thought we were friends.” He stepped closer, doing his best not to muffle the phone mic. “More than friends.”

“It’s a dog-eat-dog world. I couldn’t risk you telling anyone what happened, so I had to neuter you.”

“But I’d promised not to say a word. You know me. You know I didn’t want to cause you trouble. I just didn’t want to have sex.”

He saw a hint of remorse color her expression. “You humiliated me. I woke up pissed off, so I wanted you to hurt, too. When I went to Nikki, I didn’t think you’d get in any real trouble—just get a little embarrassed and a slap on the wrist. When she explained the consequences, it was too late. If I backed off, I’d have looked doubly bad, and gossip would’ve spread. If Mitchell got wind of it, he might leave me.”

“So the whole open-relationship thing was a lie?”

“No. But it wouldn’t exactly be discreet if the whole town knew, would it?”

“I suppose not.” He had what he needed—but what a hollow victory. “For the record, if you had acted like a friend, neither of us would’ve been hurt.”

“Well, I don’t know what I can do now. I am sorry it went as far as it did, but I’m not going to lose my marriage over this nonindiscretion.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t expect you to be so noble. I’ll fix my own problems. I only wanted to speak to you face-to-face.”

“So you’re not mad?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m real mad. But I believe in karma.”

She snorted. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“Only if you believe in karma, too.” He turned and walked back to his car. Before he pulled away, she’d gone inside the home he’d never set foot in again.

He sat in his car to listen to the audio recording, praying it would be clean enough to prove his innocence. Once he confirmed that fact, he pulled away from the curb with one destination in mind.

A few minutes later, he pulled up to Don’s house and knocked on his door.

“Andy, what are you doing here?”

“Can I have three minutes of your time, Don? It’s important.” Andy waited, hoping he wouldn’t be turned away.

“Come on in.” Don led him to a small office. “I know you’re upset about this morning, but my hands are tied.”

“Millie lied. All I ask is that you listen to her confession. More than anything, I need to clear my name, okay? Whether I leave town or stay, I don’t want my name to be raked through the mud because of a lie.”

Don’s grave expression softened. “Okay. Let me hear.”

Andy pulled up the audio file and hit “Play,” then handed Don the phone so he could hold the speaker close to his ear. When the recording ended, Don handed him back his phone.

“Well, that certainly changes things.” He tapped his fingers on his desk. “I won’t make promises, but let me talk to legal. Maybe they can get her to sign some kind of release in exchange for you not suing her for defamation, in which case, I could hire you back.”

For an instant, he thought about the money he could probably get if he threatened Millie. She’d pay anything to keep him quiet so her husband didn’t learn about this mess. Then he thought of how Grey had twisted himself into a bunch of knots trying not to sue Andy—mostly because of his feelings for Avery, but also because Grey was a good person who didn’t take advantage of others’ mistakes.

“Like I said, I’m really only here to clear my name. I’m not expecting anything more.” Andy extended his hand. “Thanks for letting me barge into your personal space uninvited.”

Don slapped him on the shoulder. “I understand. I’d be boiling mad if I were you. E-mail me a copy of that recording so I can forward it to the lawyers.”

“Will do. Thanks again.”

On his drive home, he thought to call Nikki, then decided not to. This little win didn’t change anything, because it didn’t change the fact that she’d doubted him when he’d needed her in his corner. A relationship where he’d be asked to prove himself all the time didn’t hold much appeal. Not even with someone he’d been excited about.

At this point, however, the idea of a fresh start held a lot of appeal, especially now that he’d exposed the truth and could leave with his head held relatively high. Avery would miss him and he’d miss her, but he had to look out for his own best interests. The problem was that he didn’t quite know what those were.

#

Nikki sat in Don’s office, listening to the confession Andy had managed to pull out of Millie.

Don shook his head. “It’s a shame when people go around destroying other people’s lives. Especially a privileged princess like Millie Tate Landry.”

“Perhaps I should’ve investigated a little further before bringing her claim to you.” Nikki’s hands balled into fists in her lap. Her insecurities and personal feelings had affected her judgment on the job.

“That didn’t matter, Nikki. You would’ve had to report it, even if you didn’t believe Millie. Legal has to be made aware of these things. There are plenty of baseless lawsuits that still need to be defended, sad as that is.”

Somehow that didn’t offer any comfort. “So is Andy back on the payroll?”

“I’m expecting Millie to sign a release in the next day or two. If so, we can bring him back starting January first.” Don tossed his pencil aside. “Why don’t you break the good news?”

“Sure.” She nodded, hoping her discomfort didn’t show. Andy hadn’t spoken to her since he’d stormed off two days ago. She both welcomed and dreaded a reason to call him. “Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Okay. I’ll go call Andy.”

Once Nikki reached her office, she closed her door before taking a seat at her desk. She placed her fingers against the pulse point in her neck, which throbbed wildly.

The fact that Andy had taken his evidence straight to Don instead of bringing it to her suggested that he no longer cared much about her opinion of him. If she wanted proof, she only need remember that he’d made no attempt to contact her in the intervening days, either.

The whole situation had an eerie similarity to the last time Andy got fired, when she’d also felt some guilt over her role in his fate. This time it was worse, because this time the possibility of a romantic relationship had shimmered in front of her just long enough for her to get her hopes up. Now her momentary lapse of judgment—of trust—had destroyed something she’d wanted more than anything.

She set her forehead on her desk and sighed before picking up the phone. When he didn’t answer, she forced an in-person meeting by leaving him a message to stop by her office to speak about resort business.

The intervening minutes and hours ticked by with all the speed of a sloth. The image of the disgusted look he’d worn the last time she saw him kept revisiting like a punishing ghost. Then suddenly, without warning, he knocked on her door.

“Hi.” She stood abruptly, fingers splayed on her desk. “Thanks for coming.”

“Why am I here?” He stood with his arms crossed, his signature grin noticeably absent.

“Don played the recording for me. The resort’s lawyers expect Millie to sign some kind of release as long as we don’t talk about what happened.” When Andy didn’t react or say anything, she continued. “We want to offer you a permanent position starting in January.”

She aimed for a bright smile, but not even Andy’s grin would cut through the tension—not that she could be sure, since he refused to wipe the indifferent look off his face.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

She felt her brows rise. “Because you can’t work for me?”

Two heartbeats passed. “Not exactly.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I could work for you again. I just don’t want to.” He shifted his weight to one leg and leaned against the doorjamb, his jade-colored eyes staring straight through her.

“Andy . . .” Her throat grew uncommonly tight. “You love this job. I can’t believe you’re so mad at me that you’d give it up. Why bother going to Don with the tape if you didn’t want your job back?”

“To clear my name.”

God, she’d been an idiot to have ever doubted him. She knew she’d hurt him, but until that minute, she hadn’t quite realized the depth of his pain. “You still need to work.”

“And I will, wherever I end up.”

“End up?” Her muscles tensed, bracing for bad news. “What’s that mean?”

“I’m leaving after New Year’s.”

“Leaving Sterling Canyon?” Her skin turned colder than the slopes outside. She wanted to sit yet somehow remained upright. How could he leave everything he knew? Leave before they’d had a chance to work things out? “Why would you leave your family and friends?”

“I can count on one hand the few friends here who truly care about and believe in me.”

Without thinking about the definite “Back off” vibe he’d been giving her since his arrival, she crossed to him. She reached out to touch his chest but withdrew her hands before making contact. “I care. I believe in you.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have believed Millie, especially not after Christmas night . . .” He cleared his throat.

Aware of the open door, she reached around to close it. This conversation required privacy.

She faced him, this time grasping his forearm, which remained locked in place across his chest. “I’m sorry I let my own insecurities cloud my judgment.”

If she’d hoped he’d soften his stance, she’d miscalculated.

“I hope you work that out for yourself, Nik. For me, the bottom line is that I’m done trying to earn forgiveness from people who’ll never let me off the hook for my mistake. I’ll be happier with a fresh start.”

“So that’s it? You’re done with me and everything else?”

“Yeah, guess I am.” He paused, and she didn’t know what else to say. “If I’m going to get involved with a woman, she needs to know me. To have my back, unconditionally. I thought you did, but at the first test, you believed the worst of me. Blaming those doubts on your own insecurities doesn’t change what happened. So let’s part ways without a lot of drama, okay?”

“Can we at least part as friends?” She hated the weak sound of her voice, but in the moment, pride took a back seat to desperation.

He tipped his head, and a faint hint of his grin pulled at the left corner of his mouth. “Sure, Nik. You take care.”

No hug. No kiss. He just opened the door and walked away.