So, tell me again why we’re doing this tonight instead of watching Monday Night Football,” Darryl asked, struggling under the weight of the marble countertop they carried from the truck into the house.
Jackson set his end in place. “Careful…easy. This thing cost a small fortune,” he said, watching nervously as his buddy set his end in place. “And I told you—I need the house ready sooner than I thought.”
Darryl studied him. “Did you decide to sell it?”
“No. Just decided to rent it out for a while.” He shrugged, opening the new stainless steel fridge and removing two Coors Lights—the only thing in there—and tossing one to Darryl.
Darryl popped the top on the can and took a gulp before saying, “You wouldn’t be renting the place to Abby Jansen, by any chance?”
The tone of his friend’s voice annoyed him—as if he thought he knew something he possibly couldn’t. “Yes, actually. So?” he asked despite his better judgment, leaning his hands against the new countertop.
“So…nothing. I just think you’re doing an awful lot for a woman you claim to dislike. A woman who is in the middle of a nasty divorce from your best friend.” He took another swig of the beer.
Jackson shrugged. “She needed a rental for a few months, and I wasn’t quite ready to move yet.” The last part was a lie. The lease on his place had been up two months ago, and he was going month to month, planning to move into the house once the renovations were complete, but his friend didn’t need to know that. “Besides, it was Becky’s idea. She cornered me in front of Abby at the bar the other night. How was I supposed to say no?”
Darryl laughed. “I’m just confused about this soft spot you’ve developed for her suddenly.”
Hardly suddenly. Try a soft spot that had only grown softer and more longingly desperate over the last twenty years. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Grab that other side. I don’t think it’s quite even,” he said, pretending to study the piece of marble. He’d admired the black and gray swirl pattern for months before biting the expensive bullet and ordering the slab.
“It’s perfect.” Darryl tossed his empty can in the blue recycle bin near the door, opened the fridge, and retrieved another one. “And it’s not just the house.”
He folded his arms. “What are you talking about?”
“Dex’s suspension—two games?” He raised an eyebrow.
“He checked Dani into the boards. Checking is illegal in this league. You know that.” He swallowed hard. It was true. Yet, he knew his buddy had a right to be giving him this look. Since the day before, he’d replayed the event over and over in his mind, including how he’d handled the situation. He may have been a little harsh with the kid’s suspension, but the sight of Dani hitting the boards and Abigail’s look of pure terror as she watched…
“Yes, but two games? Dani was fine.”
He sighed. “I reacted in the moment. Maybe it was a little harsh, and I’m sure that smug asshole of a father didn’t help matters. But you know safety is my main priority for these kids.”
Darryl nodded. “Okay, but let me ask you something. You don’t have to answer—just think about it—would your reaction and suspension have been the same had it been James who’d hit the boards?”
He wanted to think so, but his gut told him otherwise. The day before he hadn’t been thinking with his head. Making decisions based on his tortured, useless heart wasn’t the right way to deal with things. He sighed. “I’ll talk to Dex.”
* * *
Abigail collected the stack of papers she was grading and slid her feet back into her shoes the following afternoon after her first day of substitute teaching in a week. Admittedly, she wasn’t being called in as often as she’d hoped. Luckily, she was staying plenty busy with the fundraising committee planning, whose meeting was scheduled to start in ten minutes in the staff room. Dani had gotten a ride home with Taylor that day, and Becky had invited her to stay for dinner. She’d pick her up after the meeting.
As she left the classroom, she nearly collided with one of her colleagues. “Oh, sorry, Beth,” she said, readjusting her folders in her arms.
“No worries. My fault for hiding around corners,” the music teacher said, as she stuck a poster to the bulletin board outside the classroom door.
Abigail glanced at it. FATHER AND DAUGHTER FALL FORMAL. Crap. The school still had that? She bit her lip. Would Dani want to go? Dances and dresses weren’t exactly her daughter’s thing, and the chances of Dean being available to take her were slim.
Hopefully she wouldn’t bring it up, and Abigail wasn’t about to.
A few minutes later, she entered the staff room, where the other teachers were already waiting and the sports coaches chatted near the window, drinking coffee. Her gaze met Jackson’s and she felt her cheeks redden. Since her conversation with her father the night before, she couldn’t erase the nagging thought that maybe Jackson wasn’t as anti-Abigail as he’d always appeared, and that idea was too confusing to even start to entertain.
She had enough to deal with, so she forced her own conflicting emotions aside.
Breaking the eye contact, she smiled at the other teachers, all of whom she’d met at the staff meeting she’d attended earlier that week. “Hi, everyone,” she said, relieved to also see Kelli enter the room. The woman had offered to help her head her first fundraising meeting for a smoother transition. The previous meeting Abigail had mostly sat back and listened.
A series of greetings and small talk followed, until finally Kelli said, “As you all know, Abigail will be taking over heading the fundraising efforts this year in my absence…”
A series of nods and warm, friendly, if uncertain smiles met her around the table.
Their apprehension over her leadership didn’t bother her. Truth was, she was probably the most doubtful of her abilities as any of them, but she refused to show it.
Fake it. Make it. Wasn’t that how the saying went? She could handle this responsibility and hopefully before long, they would all see that.
“I’ll turn the meeting over to her now. They are all yours, Abigail,” she said, and there was a note of reluctance in her voice.
“Thank you.” She avoided Jackson as she summoned the courage to continue. “I’ve reviewed last year’s fundraising ideas and efforts and after looking at the numbers, I think what we’re doing as a team is working well.” She paused. “But, I think there are other opportunities we could explore and places where we can expand the efforts as well.”
A few looks were sent across the table, and she refused to let them destroy her confidence. She cleared her throat as she flipped through the fundraising file. “For example, the bottle drive…”
Mark Hanly sat straighter, pulling his sport coat together to hide the coffee stain that was perpetually on his dress shirt. The man must have a leaky chin, she mused. “That’s usually my thing,” the fourth grade teacher, soccer coach, and father of three said.
Abigail smiled. “And it looks like it’s one of the more lucrative drives, so congratulations on your effort there,” she said.
The man nodded and his shoulders relaxed. “We try.”
“My only suggestion would be trying to get some of the local businesses on board with the efforts.”
“How?” he asked.
“Well in L.A.…”
Several more looks and facial twitches threatened her confidence slightly, but Jackson’s encouraging nod somehow made her feel better. The intensity in his eyes was another story, so she turned slightly to address the opposite side of the room.
“At Dani’s former school, they invested in plastic recycling containers with the school’s logo on the front. Local businesses agreed to place them in their establishments and donate the bottles and cans to the school’s programs, divided equally between all of the sports, music, and theatre groups.”
“Wouldn’t the bins be expensive, though?” Ally Carter, the young kindergarten teacher, asked.
“There would be an initial investment for them…” Abigail flipped through her papers. “I got a quote from Southern Colorado Disposal. Fifty would cost the school one hundred eighty-nine dollars at their discounted price, and to keep costs down, we could attach our own house-made labels onto them.”
“But the bottle drive only brought in a little over four hundred dollars last year. Isn’t it a little counterproductive?” Mark asked.
She was prepared for this meeting. Taking out her photocopied stats of the money raised by Montessori Academy in Los Angeles, she passed them around the table. “As you can see, the K to six school raised a total of three thousand, four hundred fifty-six dollars in nine months by soliciting the help of the community.” She smiled at the wide-eyed, positive expressions among the group as they reviewed the numbers.
“And you think we could get enough businesses on board?”
She nodded. “Absolutely.” Glenwood Falls may be a small community, but its residents band together. “A lot of the business owners have kids or relatives in these programs, and I’m sure they will all be happy to help.”
A collection of nods went around the table, and when her gaze settled on Jackson again, her breath caught in her throat at the look—was that admiration?—on his face. Somehow his approval felt like a small victory, and she refused to read too much into it. She’d yet to shake the strange, unfamiliar feelings she’d experienced the night he’d mentioned kissing her or the intense gratitude she had for his attention to Dani the day before at practice.
“I think it sounds like a great idea,” Sam Fisher, a first grade teacher and choir director, said, breaking into her thoughts. “With funds like this, we could start traveling to some of the nearby music competitions.”
Ally nodded. “And the theatre group could afford to bring in guest acting coaches…” Her excitement was evident.
“Let’s not start spending money before we actually have it,” Kelli interjected.
Abigail heard a note of insecurity in the woman’s voice, so she was quick to agree. “Kelli is right. We have a lot of work to do first,” she said with a laugh.
“Okay, well, how do we get started?” Mark asked, opening his notebook.
As she launched into her preplanned strategy of attack for the efforts, Abigail felt lighter, more confident, excited…happier than she had in a long time. She was making a difference, adding value, and it did wonders for her self-esteem.
An hour later, her excitement wasn’t the only one felt in the room as everyone discussed several new fundraising ideas that in the past they thought might be too time-consuming or too costly. She was relieved that in each scenario, she was able to encourage the idea and provide valid advice on how to make the suggestion work, based on her previous involvement and experience.
Checking her watch, she couldn’t believe that over an hour and a half had passed already. “I think this meeting went well. Let’s call it an evening and meet again next week to discuss the progress we’ve made. Sound good?” she asked.
Everyone agreed.
“Great.” She closed her folder and reached for her purse on the floor.
“Uh, there’s one quick thing, if I could?” Jackson said and she stopped to glance at him.
“Of course. What’s up?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded light and didn’t give away the nerves she’d felt just being in the same room with him.
“This weekend is the team’s first away game. It’s in Allenville, about two hours away. It’s an evening game, so the team will be staying overnight,” he said.
“Do you require funding?” They would obviously need to arrange transportation and overnight accommodation for the players.
Jackson shook his head. “No. The school bus has already been reserved, and the motel rooms paid for from last year’s funds.” He hesitated.
“So what do you need?”
“Chaperones.” His gaze locked on hers. “Specifically a female chaperone.”
Right. Crap. Now that there were two little girls on the team, it wasn’t good enough to have just Jackson and Darryl, the assistant coach, go on the trip. She scanned the room.
Everyone else busied themselves in collecting their belongings or chatting among themselves, avoiding her gaze.
Great, no volunteers.
She sighed as her surrendering gaze returned to Jackson. “I can do it.” She’d have to go anyway. She’d never feel comfortable letting Dani go with the team two hours outside of Glenwood Falls without her.
A hint of a desire reflected in his expression as he obviously realized the same thing she did—they would be spending a lot of time together that weekend. In a hotel…With kids, she quickly reminded herself, before her thoughts wandered off to unsafe for work territory. “Gr…” He cleared his throat. “Great. That’s settled then. Thank you.”
“Great,” she repeated, wondering how many more layers of her life would end up tangled with his.
And worse—why that thought wasn’t as terrible as she’d like it to be.
* * *
“This is so exciting.”
“We are totally going to kick some butt.”
“Remember the goalie is weak on his left side, so always shoot to his left.”
Abigail sighed as she listened to the girls in the back of her SUV chat excitedly about their first game of the season—also their first away game that Saturday evening. She wished she shared their excitement, but there was so much about the next twenty-four hours making her anxious, she could barely focus.
The school would only approve funding for three motel rooms and two adult chaperones, which meant the assistant coach would be driving to Allenville on his own and then driving back after the game. Which meant she was stuck on a school bus for two hours and then at a motel with Jackson.
Pulling into the school’s parking lot, where the school bus waited and other parents migrated, saying goodbye to their kids as they rushed onto the bus, excited and without a care, the knot in her stomach drew even tighter. Jackson stood at the bus door, collecting the signed permission slips from the parents and checking off the attendance as each kid passed him, lugging their heavy hockey bags onto the bus.
Dressed in a pair of jeans and a denim-blue long-sleeve Henley that hugged his biceps and chest and tapered at his waist, he looked like the sexiest hometown hockey coach she’d ever seen. His hair was gelled in a spiked mess, and the five o’clock shadow on his jawline continued to tempt her. The desire to touch him returned—his face, his muscular chest, those thick thighs straining against the denim…Damn, this was going to be a long bus ride.
“Hey, guys,” he greeted them as she and the girls approached moments later. “Ready for your first game?”
“Beyond ready,” Taylor said.
“Yeah, we’re going to crush them,” Dani agreed.
Jackson laughed.
Had the deep, rich sound always made her tummy flutter like this?
“Love the positive attitudes and the enthusiasm, but remember: it’s about having fun, okay?”
“Yes, Coach!” they said in unison as they passed him to board the bus.
“Do you think they heard any of that?” he asked her.
“Nope.”
“Me neither.” He tucked the clipboard under his arm. “So, are you ready for your first game?”
“I’ll never be ready,” she admitted. The last week, watching Dani practice, she started to feel a little better about things. There were no more injuries or rough play during practice, but a game against an opposing team could be a different story.
What if there were other parents like Kurt Miller teaching their children to win at all costs?
“She’ll be fine,” he said, squeezing her shoulder.
But would she—that was the question. Her eyes fell to his hand on her shoulder and she resisted the urge to move closer. Her skin tingled under the warmth of the touch and, just as it had the night in his house when he’d tended to her injured foot, her pulse raced. Where were these feelings coming from? Her body had never reacted to him this way. She had to get a grip. There were far too many reasons why getting involved with Jackson would be another life mistake. Though knowing that did nothing to help suppress the urge to crawl inside his strong arms and make him follow through on that kiss he’d threatened.
He dropped his hand a second later and wiped the palm on the leg of his jeans, as if touching her had been unintentional.
Awesome.
She readjusted her bag on her shoulder and moved past him. “See you on the bus,” she said.
* * *
“See you on the bus.”
Sixteen-year-old Jackson had sighed as he’d stared at the tenth grade class ski trip schedule in his hands. They’d each been partnered up for safety on the Copper Mountain slopes, and somehow he’d been paired with Abby. He scanned the list of other partners, and wished his name was anywhere else. The thought of the embarrassment he would face once they hit the ski slopes was making it hard to breathe. He wouldn’t need to fake a stomachache to get out of participating, like he’d planned; he was pretty sure he was about to get sick for real as his gut twisted and turned.
The news about Abby’s recent breakup with senior Roy Leger had gone through the school faster than chicken pox, and for a brief moment the day before, he’d thought maybe he’d ask her to the winter formal, seeing as how it was only a week away, and now that she wouldn’t be going with Roy…maybe she just might consider him, seeing as how most everyone else had dates already.
He hadn’t planned on going at all, but for about thirty seconds the day before, watching Abby twirl a strand of her long blonde hair around one finger while she finished their math exam, he’d envisioned what it might be like to go with her.
Of course his daydream had ended with the thought of her laughing at him when he tried to dance, and he’d immediately hated himself for even entertaining the stupid notion.
Abby Jansen dated guys like Roy Leger—older guys who had their driver’s license, who were good at all sports, not just hockey, and who treated her like she was invisible. She deserved to be treated so much better…
She also deserved to have a good ski trip and not have his bailing affect her day on the slopes. For two weeks, all she’d talked about—not to him, but he’d overheard, of course—was how much she was looking forward to this trip. She’d taken ski lessons the winter before and claimed to have skied the black diamond runs and the extreme terrain runs—the tougher and more advanced trails at the resort.
He never should have agreed to this field trip, but the other option had been to stay behind and participate in the drama class’s Christmas production—no thank you.
Though being forced into a pair of tights for their version of The Nutcracker suddenly seemed less embarrassing than falling on his face in the snow with Abby watching.
“You okay, buddy?” Dean’s voice behind him said.
“Oh, yeah, fine,” he muttered. He glanced at the sheet. “Hey, who did you get paired with for this?” Albert Keeley’s name was next to Dean’s. The only other tenth grader who seemed to be more nervous about this trip than he was.
Albert was a genius, having skipped the second and third grade, putting him two years younger than the rest of the class, which made it even harder for him to make friends. He was maybe ninety pounds and the most uncoordinated kid Jackson had ever seen.
“Yep, this is going to suck. I seriously doubt Albert will want to leave the bunny slopes, so I need to figure out a way to sneak away to get some skiing done,” Dean said. “Who’d you get?” He glanced at the list in Jackson’s hand and then punched his shoulder.
“What was that for?”
“For getting the hottest girl in school as your partner.”
His buddy had looked genuinely annoyed.
Jackson had scoffed. “Abby? No way,” he said, but the words were too high pitched—the way his voice always went an octave higher when he was lying or nervous. He was both now.
“Switch partners with me,” Dean said quietly, pulling him out of earshot of Mr. Hannigan, the teacher taking attendance at the door of the bus.
“Uh…” He hesitated for a brief second, before realizing his friend was offering him a way out of his embarrassment and a way out of skiing that day. “Okay.” He’d nodded eagerly. “Do you think we need to tell Hannigan?”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Dean had said, reaching into his pocket for a fresh piece of gum. Spitting the old piece into the trash can on the school yard, he popped the new one in and ran a hand through his hair. “Wish me luck.”
Jackson had frowned. “For what?” he asked, his stomach now a tornado of discomfort as he had a sinking suspicion he knew exactly what his buddy meant.
“I’m about to make Abby Jansen my girl in time for the winter formal.”
And that’s when he had thrown up a little bit in his mouth. His best friend was planning to make a play for Abby? He’d never even shown any interest in her before. And besides, Abby was the girl he wanted to date. Guys didn’t do that to one another.
Of course Dean had no idea he had a thing for Abby. If he said something now, would his friend reconsider? He opened his mouth, but his confidence failed him at the final, crucial second. “What about Lily?” he croaked out instead—the ninth grader Dean had just started hanging out with. His friend refused to call anything “dating” or any girl his “girlfriend,” but Jackson had been sure he and Lily were an item.
“Crap, you’re right.” Dean paused, then he smiled, slipping an arm around his shoulders. “Take one for the team will you, man?”
“You want me to take Lily to winter formal so you can ditch out on her for Abby?” Fantastic. Then he would not only not get to go with the girl of his dreams, but he’d have to watch Dean—his best friend—with her?
Teenage life sucked.
“Come on, you know if the roles were reversed, I’d do it for you.”
The problem was, it was true. Reluctantly he nodded with a sigh. “Fine. Okay.”
“Thanks, man. You’re a good friend.” He’d climbed onto the bus then, and Jackson had dragged his feet as he followed.
As he boarded, Abby had looked past Dean and smiled at him, patting the seat next to her.
He’d looked away and scanned the rows for Albert, then avoiding her gaze, he took a seat next to the only other kid on the bus who felt about as sick as he did.
* * *
Abigail watched as the last kid climbed onto the bus, followed by Jackson. Sitting alone in the third seat from the back, as far away from Dani as possible to give her daughter space with her friends, she waited to see if he would join her. An odd sense of déjà vu washed over her as the familiar surroundings from her youth—the worn gray, high-backed bus seats covered in graffiti with kid’s initials and hearts, the square windows that never went down all the way or refused to close—brought to mind her own school field trips.
One in particular had started exactly like this. Her sitting in a seat toward the back of the bus, waiting for Jackson to sit next to her as they headed to Copper Mountain for the ski trip. She had never understood how he’d ended up sitting with Albert instead, and suddenly her new partner had been Dean. At the time, she’d been thrilled to have Dean Underwood’s undivided attention, especially since she’d just ended things with her boyfriend of six weeks, Roy Leger. But still, she’d been bothered by the fact Jackson had disliked her so much he’d preferred to have Albert as a partner that day instead of her.
She held her breath as her gaze met his and an odd look of indecision flashed across his face. He hesitated just long enough for her to notice the pause, then he averted his gaze, did a quick head count of the kids, sat in the empty seat at the front of the bus, and started a chat with the driver.
Okay then. Obviously their unspoken truce didn’t extend all the way to sitting side by side for two hours.
* * *
The excitement level of the team as they reboarded the bus after that evening’s game had him smiling with pride. They’d won their first game of the season, away from their home arena. The Allenville team had consisted of all boys, except for their goalie. She’d blocked so many impressive shots at the start of the game that he’d been preparing his we’ll-get-’em-next-time speech. The score of 5–4 had meant the game had been nail-bitingly close for all three periods, but they’d pulled out the win.
Best of all, it had been Dani who’d scored the winning goal. The little girl’s excitement had only been outdone by the support of her teammates. Jackson hadn’t known he’d been so worried about the boys’ acceptance of the new female additions until that moment when their pride had been a weight lifting from his chest.
And then there had been the look on Abby’s face. The image of her beaming expression had made him want to take her in his arms and later blame an ill-timed kiss on the spontaneity of the moment. He had to hand it to her; she’d landed on her feet: within weeks of being back she’d secured a new job, earned the respect of her reluctant co-workers, and settled back into small-town life.
The truth was, he’d never pictured Abby fitting in with the pro-hockey/high-profile lifestyle. Not that she wasn’t capable; it was just that the girl he’d known had preferred the outdoors—camping, fishing, hiking—to fancy dinner parties. She’d preferred her running shoes to heels. Maybe that was why all the guys liked her so much.
And looking at her now, she seemed to have fallen right back into the girl she used to be. From the back of the bus, she smiled at him as he took his seat next to Dex, and his heart echoed in his ears.
She had to feel the fire simmering just beneath the surface whenever they were together. The mutual attraction and sexual tension in the air around them couldn’t be his imagination. Before, it had been his lack of confidence and fear of rejection that had him sitting back while another guy had stolen her affection. But he wasn’t that same insecure kid anymore. He knew what he wanted. And he was pretty damn sure she wanted it, too.
Unfortunately a busload of preteens wasn’t the best place to confirm his suspicions.
With an adrenaline-infused high coming off of the kids in waves, he suspected it was going to be a long night trying to monitor two rooms of boys, who’d just consumed liters of soda pop and gallons of ice cream at their victory dinner. But within forty minutes of arriving back at the motel, they were all out cold.
He grinned as he yawned and turned out the main lights in the adjoining hotel rooms, then slipped out onto the balcony into the crisp fall night air.
“The boys are out, too?”
Abby’s voice on the balcony to his right made him turn. “Yeah. So much for ‘partying all night.’” He laughed. “I’m not even sure they finished the leftover pizza we brought back.”
She nodded, drawing a pale pink cardigan tighter around her body. The soft color was a stark contrast to her tanned skin, and his eyes were drawn to her chest visible above the fabric.
He wondered if her skin was as silky soft as it looked.
“I never thought they’d get any sleep tonight,” she said.
Right. The kids. Stay focused on the kids. “It was a great first game,” he said, forcing his eyes from her face, illuminated only by the moonlight.
“Dani is so proud of herself for that winning goal,” she said leaning over the balcony rail.
His gaze flew involuntarily to her perfectly shaped curves. How his friend could let an ass as great as that one walk away was beyond comprehension.
In his silence, she glanced at him.
He raised his eyes, but it was too late. He was busted for staring at her ass. He cleared his throat, trying to remember what she’d said. Dani’s winning goal, right. “She should be proud. It was perfectly executed, and that Allenville goalie was a superstar. If she can score on her, she’ll be MVP of the team by the end of the season.”
Abby nodded and an awkward, long silence followed.
“Yep, the kids did great.” That’s it, just keep repeating the same meaningless small talk until the uncomfortableness grows and one of them went back inside.
She nodded again.
Another excruciating silence. Damn. Would he ever not feel like an awkward, self-conscious teenager around her? If he could even just get to the point where he could spend time with her without feeling as though he had to be stand-offish or ignore her to prevent his real feelings from showing, he’d take it. Apparently, that wouldn’t be tonight. “Well, goodnight.”
“Jackson,” she said as he turned to go back inside.
“Yeah?”
“I wanted to talk to you about the house.”
“Oh right, of course.” He’d meant to give her an update, but with the kids there hadn’t been time. “I just finished the kitchen a few nights ago, so you can move in anytime.”
“That’s great. Thank you. I hope you didn’t go through any trouble getting it ready early.”
“No trouble at all.” As long as paying five hundred dollars to put a rush on the laminate floor installation didn’t count.
She hesitated, looking as though there was more she wasn’t saying. “Okay, but actually, I was wondering…well, I heard that you bought the house for yourself. That you’d planned on moving in there. Is that true?”
He should have known she’d find out that had been his plan. Enough people around town knew he’d bought the place for that reason. Hell, he’d already ordered the mailbox for the end of the driveway with WESTMORE written on it. “I hadn’t really decided yet.” He shrugged. “But even if I do decide to keep it, it wouldn’t be for a while. You and Dani can have the place as long as you need it.”
She frowned. “But then what are the chances you’d consider selling it to me? The thing is, I’m just not sure moving in and getting settled is a good idea, if you decide you don’t want to sell it after all.”
He swallowed hard, but didn’t think twice before saying, “It’s yours if you want it.”
A questioning look flickered in her eyes as a soft breeze blew a strand of her hair across her face. She tucked it back behind an ear. “But…”
Striding toward the edge of the balcony, he stopped, resting his hands against it. “Look, Abby, I…” He what? How did he tell her there was nothing he wouldn’t give her? “The house…” And anything else that was his to give. “Is yours if you want it.”
“I think I do,” she said quietly. “But then I’ll feel terrible for swiping your house out from under you.”
“Don’t.” His eyes locked with hers and all of a sudden an urge to be honest with her, to tell her how he’d always felt about her, even if it was too late, was so overwhelming, he almost gave in. Luckily common sense and an unwillingness to make things even more awkward between them stopped him. She didn’t feel that way about him. She was divorcing his best friend. And for those two big reasons, he couldn’t tell her. It would only make things worse. “Dean is my best friend, and you and Dani are…important to me,” he said instead, stumbling over the understatement.
Her expression clouded at the mention of Dean but she simply nodded.
He wondered how many different meanings, how many different intentions she could hide with a simple nod.
Too many. And he’d be an idiot to try to figure them out.
He offered a small smile as he added, “Besides, you and Dani will turn it into a much better home than I would have.” He turned to leave, the desire to tell her how he felt about her nearly strangling him. The longer he said nothing, the more he felt the opportunity slipping away. “Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Why is that?” she blurted out quickly as he reached for the balcony door handle.
She wasn’t making his usual avoidance and escape easy that evening. “What do you mean?”
“I just mean—Why don’t you…um…Why aren’t you…?”
“Married?” Was that where she was going with this?
Again the simple nod.
He sighed, placing his hands on his hips. His gaze fell on the dark mountains, which were shadows against the navy, starlit sky. “I guess I just haven’t found the right one,” he said. Impossible to do when she’d already married his best friend.
“Are you looking?” she asked with a laugh. “’Cause I’ve seen quite a few women sending you not-so-subtle hints—Linda, the basketball coach, for one.”
“Linda?” She must have her signals mixed up. “No way. She’s just a friend.”
“Maybe to you, but I think she likes you.”
There was more than friendly curiosity in her tone. Jealousy, maybe? He shook his head. “Well, either way, I’m not into Linda.” The problem was, he hadn’t found anyone in town he was into enough to consider a relationship with. He’d dated women over the years. He’d even gotten semi-serious about one—Cameron Day, a young professional snowboarder, who’d lived twenty minutes outside of Glenwood Falls. She’d taught him how to ski finally, and they’d been really close, but unfortunately her skiing career was her priority, and he’d understood that.
Since her, he’d been on a few dates—mostly Becky’s doing—but until he found someone who made his chest ache with longing to be near them, like Abby did, he’d rather be alone.
“What about me?” she asked, her eyes downcast on the railing between them. “How come you’ve never liked me?”
“Huh?” That’s what she thought?
She gave a nervous laugh. “Jeez, listen to me. I sound like an eight-year-old. I just meant…well, exactly what I said.” She stared at him, waiting for the answer to the million-dollar question.
One he didn’t know. “I do like you.” Too much. “I…well…it was…” Oh God, he felt like he was drowning. Just tell her the truth.
“It was because I stole your best friend away, right?”
No, it was because his best friend had stolen her away. Her answer seemed a lot less complicated, and he sensed non-complicated was what she needed right now, so he nodded. “I guess so, yeah. But if you hadn’t, hockey would have eventually. The game first, friendship second,” he said.
She looked away. “Don’t I know it.”
“Well, goodnight,” he said again, hoping this time she’d let him go. He had a hard time looking at her sad, thoughtful, faraway expression without wanting to wrap his arms around her and tell her he’d never put her second, that her heart would be safe with him.
But unfortunately, he wasn’t sure that sentiment went both ways.