by Jamie Beck
Of course, Shana Willis was now throwing herself at him—quite literally, based on the way her boobs grazed his chest. Andy peeked down at Shana’s cleavage, too. Who could blame him? Those double Ds were hard to ignore.
Andy looked up and caught Nikki watching him. Crap. Surely her face had turned as red as Rudolph’s nose. Busted, she nodded with a smile.
He winked at her, then pried Shana’s hands off his chest and started toward her.
Winking. How like him to be flirty and cute. Befitting a man with his even temperament and touch of sweetness. She hadn’t seen him in a while, and yet he stirred up all these feelings she couldn’t express—being shot down once had been enough. There’d been times since then when Andy’s behavior made her wonder if he’d started to see her as more than a friend. But absent a declaration by megaphone on his part, she’d ruthlessly bury her own feelings before she’d ever humiliate herself again.
“Hey!” She forced a bright smile but didn’t stand. Standing would make her cry because her swollen toes were never fitting back into those little cutout holes.
“Nikki.” He leaned down to give her a quick kiss—more of a peck—on the cheek, then gestured toward the empty chair on her left. “Is this seat taken?”
“Not at the moment.” She wished he’d sat to her right so her scar wouldn’t be front and center in his line of sight.
He glanced at the glass she was nervously twirling on the tabletop. “Vodka?”
“Tequila.”
His eyes widened. “Hitting the hard stuff already?”
“Helps me deal with all this.” She swept her hand along her skimpy dress, then shifted in her seat, feeling overexposed. Granted, she’d known he’d be here, and, subconsciously, a little part of her wanted him to see her as a woman. The masochistic part that apparently enjoyed humiliation.
He grinned again—that adorable, lopsided, sexy grin. Mimicking her gesture, he said, “All this looks pretty good, Nik.”
Her whole body probably turned the color of the holly berries scattered around the dining room.
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
Now what? She could handle Andy when they were on the slopes or in the bar with the rest of the crew after a long day of lessons. But here at a wedding, surrounded by brides and love and romance and ooey-gooey music?
She slammed the tequila back, much to his surprise.
“Wow. Something I said?” He chuckled. The rich sound of his laughter flowed through her with more warmth than that shot.
“Sorry. Ignore me.” She leaned forward, determined to act like a normal person. “How’ve you been? We don’t see you at the old watering holes anymore.”
Oh, double crap. Why’d I bring that up? The last time they’d been at one, she’d left him there knowing he’d been too drunk to drive. They’d been playing darts and sort of flirting, until he’d wounded her pride and joined the other guys in their crew to do shots with a bachelorette party that’d wandered in. If she’d taken Andy’s keys instead of slinking off, that accident and his subsequent arrest wouldn’t have happened.
“Sobriety was part of my probation, you know.” He leaned back and stretched his long legs out. His foot was mere centimeters away from her damaged toes.
Rarely had she seen Andy look uncomfortable, and she didn’t particularly enjoy watching him squirm. In fact, she hated that her thoughtless question had caused him discomfort just as much as she hated that her insecurities had contributed to that awful night.
“Doesn’t matter,” he continued. “I haven’t been much in the mood to party. Nothing to celebrate this holiday season.”
She’d sort of avoided him since his arrest, largely because of her own sense of responsibility for the whole mess. But in for a penny, in for a pound tonight. “Don’t be a grinch. The end of probation is cause for celebration, isn’t it?”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” He grinned, but this time it wasn’t genuine. In fact, he almost looked sad—to the extent a smiling person could look sad. “I may not need to report to my parole officer anymore, but my life’s nowhere near where I want it to be.”
“Whose is?” she teased.
He circled his hand in the air. “Emma’s. My sister’s. Kelsey’s. Yours.”
Hers? For the most part, maybe. Her family was healthy and happy. She enjoyed sharing an apartment with her sister. She loved her job, the town, and the many ways she entertained herself. It was pretty perfect . . . except for those last few minutes every night when she closed her eyes and rolled over in bed—alone.
“How will you fix it?” she asked.
He glanced down at the ground, but when he looked up and opened his mouth to answer, Amy appeared.
“Andy!” she squealed. Nikki didn’t know if her sister’s treacly voice actually appealed to men or if every guy put up with it because Amy was exquisitely pretty. Like Grace Kelly kind of pretty.
Amy fingered Andy’s tie. An intimate gesture, considering they were hardly more than friendly acquaintances. Amy was five years younger than he was, so they hadn’t even been schoolmates. “You should wear a tie more often. You look sharp.”
He blushed. Good grief, her sister made him blush. Of course she did. Amy was sweet and pretty and beloved. She didn’t have to do anything other than breathe to cast a spell on a man. And now she stood before Andy, wearing her red dress with its sash belt and bow, presenting herself like some inviting Christmas gift.
“Thanks, Amy.”
Said so casually, just as someone who was used to being told he was good-looking would. What that must feel like, Nikki would never know.
When Amy ran a hand through his bangs, he tensed. “You need a haircut. Come by and I’ll give you a discount.”
“You sayin’ my flow isn’t cool?” He chuckled.
“Flow is clichéd. Let me whip this gorgeous hair into a style that flatters you. Not that you need help to look good.”
Andy’s genuine smile reappeared.
Nikki wanted to hate her sister for how easily she could flirt and make people feel good. But who could hate Amy? Her sister was good-hearted and had no idea about Nikki’s crush on Andy, because she’d hidden it, especially after he’d shot her down. Then, when she’d become both the youngest and the first female head of the ski school, she wouldn’t risk her professional reputation on the mere chance that his feelings for her had changed.
“I haven’t seen you on the dance floor yet.” Amy stood there, waiting to be asked.
“Actually, I was just about to drag your sister out there.” He flashed his toothy grin at them both.
Amy’s cheerful expression faltered for the barest fraction of a second. It was sort of priceless, and Nikki might’ve enjoyed the role reversal a little too much if it hadn’t been for the fear throbbing throughout her entire body. Dance? Even without the swollen toes and the clown stilts for shoes, she’d never been light-footed.
Andy stood and held out his hand. How could she say no?
She hoped she didn’t wince when she forced her feet back into those shoes. Taking his hand, she was grateful he was leading her through the crowd because at least he couldn’t see her limping behind him.
“The Girl from Ipanema” started playing—such a cheesy, sad song about unrequited desire. Come to think of it, maybe it should be my secret theme song. The stray thought fell to the side when Andy twirled her around and into his arms.
Every part of her body came alert to his touch, his heat, his scent, making her temporarily forget about her foot pain. She couldn’t even focus on counting the beats or avoid trampling his feet. Smile and roll with it—the only options.
His fingers settled lower on her spine as he tugged her a little closer. She nearly froze in place, but he somehow kept her swaying along with him. Exquisite torment, that’s what this was. So close she could feel his breath on the side of her face—the good side, fortunately. Still . . . torment. If only she affected him in any way that mirrored her galloping pulse or r
ising body temperature. Was that too much to ask of a Christmas wish?
She tried not to think too hard about the nearby mistletoe even as she yearned to end up beneath it.
“How’s the crew shaping up this year?” he asked.
Thank God. Conversation about something she could talk about without thinking. “Not many surprises, although Digger finally retired.”
Andy whistled. “About time. He had a hard time shifting to newer techniques.”
She chuckled. “Let’s just say clients weren’t begging for him lately.”
“I bet.” The warm twinkle in his eyes nearly melted every single one of her bones.
He then twirled her away before yanking her back, snug against his chest. God, he smelled terrific. What might he taste like? Oh, no. Please let that one be a silent thought.
A queer sort of hesitancy crossed his face. “So, if Digger’s gone, any chance you’re looking to replace him?”
The hopefulness in his gaze obliterated her romantic daydreams with a hefty dose of reality. Of course he hadn’t been affected by her touch or interested in dancing with her for fun. This had all been about the job.
It sucked to have to hide her hurt feelings, but hide them she would. She couldn’t even be mad, because he’d never done or said anything misleading. He’d just been Andy—a cute, flirty, friendly guy, as always. “Yes. I need to replace him.”
Following the briefest pause, he joked, “I know someone who’s available and dying to come back.”
He playfully dipped her without warning, so she had to clutch his shoulders to avoid falling. That mistletoe hung just overhead as he held her like that for an extra heartbeat, but she said nothing.
After he brought her upright, they stood still for a second, staring at each other. Then he seemed to shake himself out of whatever or wherever he went and picked up the beat again.
She didn’t respond to his unsubtle sales pitch until the final notes of the saxophone rang. “It’s complicated.”
“I know. I was hoping my stellar employment history would be grounds for an exception regarding the rule against hiring instructors with criminal records.” His cheeks and neck were now flushed.
She imagined his shame at having to look his friends in the eye and make those kinds of statements. That record would stick to him like flypaper for a long time. “It’s not up to me, you know. I’d have to go out on a limb with Don to get clearance.” Don, the head of HR for the resort, did things by the book 99.99 percent of the time. Chances were high that he wouldn’t be easily persuaded to give Andy a second chance.
Andy waved his hands, quickly hiding the disappointment she’d seen cross his face. “It’s okay, Nik. Forget I said anything.”
Another song had begun, but instead of drawing her back into his arms, he nodded toward the dining room, a false grin fixed in place. “Time for another drink?”
She was about to say “Sure” when Kelsey and Trip appeared.
“Hey, Nikki. Can I steal Andy for a dance before he disappears? I want to talk to him about a surprise baby shower for Avery.” Kelsey thrust Trip at her. “Trade you for three minutes, maybe four.”
“He’s all yours.” Nikki handed Andy off to Kelsey, who’d been close friends with Andy and Avery since childhood.
Plenty of young, local women picked on Kelsey’s tendency to be a little over the top with her clothes and such. Nikki figured most of those women were jealous of Kelsey’s bombshell beauty. In contrast, Nikki felt an odd kinship with her. She empathized with her for being judged for her sexy appearance instead of for the warm, hardworking person inside. Chances were high that before Kelsey married Trip and had their daughter, Dani, she’d probably been as lonely as Nikki. The perverse comparison almost made Nikki laugh.
“Lucky me!” Kelsey laughed and grabbed Andy’s hand, dragging him to the middle of the floor, leaving Nikki with Trip.
Trip was several inches taller than Nikki. Rarely did she get to look up at a man’s eyes, although in this case that could be lethal. Trip’s green irises lit up with the kind of mischief particular to gorgeous, confident, funny men. He’d been quite the lothario when he’d first breezed into town two years ago. No one could believe it when he finally settled down.
“Trip, don’t take this personally, but my feet are killing me. How about we sit this one out?” Nikki grimaced. What woman didn’t want to dance with this guy? If Amy had been standing there, she would’ve fainted.
“No problem,” he said. “I actually need a little break myself. Drink?”
“Hit my limit. I’m better off finding a willing chair.”
“Good luck!” He chuckled, then strolled to the bar, where Grey and Avery were laughing.
Nikki limped away from the dance floor. From the safe distance of the dining room, she spied on Andy through the crowd. Whatever he’d just said to Kelsey caused her to give him a consolation hug.
She thought back to the night of his accident again and how she might’ve prevented everything that had happened to him and to Grey Lowell. It wasn’t exactly her fault, but she wasn’t blameless, either. She’d known better. Wounded pride had led her to make an immature decision. Maybe sticking her neck out for Andy now and getting him that job might soothe her own conscience.
Chapter Three
“I wouldn’t ask, but we’re short-staffed, and the holiday season is here. You know we’re slammed with lesson reservations over the holidays.” Nikki sat in front of Don Greenley’s desk, rubbing her palms against the arms of her chair. Generally speaking, she preferred to make his job easier, not harder. Today, however, she had to do what she felt was right.
Sunlight filtered in through the window behind him, glinting off his enormous bald head. She’d always wondered if he’d grown that bushy beard to compensate for the lack of hair up top.
“People rely on us to stick to our background checks and make sure our instructors don’t have criminal records, Nikki.” Don leaned back in his chair, causing it to squeak. “Breaking that policy could lead to liability.”
“We’re talking about Andy, Don. Stellar work record. Clients love him. His original charges were reduced to misdemeanors, and he’s learned his lesson.” She leaned forward. “From a cost perspective, Andy doesn’t need training. He knows the mountain and the policies here. We still get requests for him from repeat vacationers. And he really needs a second chance.”
Don tapped his fingers on the desk for a minute, and tension pooled in her gut, like it did when she watched the Broncos in a tight match.
“Okay, we’ll give him a chance—on three conditions. First, he agrees to random Breathalyzer tests.”
“Don, he’s not a drunk—”
He held up his hand, cutting her off. “This is about the safety of others, Nikki. If he wants this second chance, he’ll accept that condition. The next is that he only works with clients over twelve.”
“But Andy loves the kids, and they love him. You know most of my instructors prefer adults, so why not let Andy take the little ones?”
“Adults and teens who have a history with him, period. That’s the deal.”
“What’s the third condition?” She held her breath, wondering if he was going to force Andy to wear a prison jumpsuit instead of an instructor’s jacket, for God’s sake.
“This is a probationary offer to get us through the holiday crunch. If he gets through to the New Year with no infractions or customer complaints, we can probably extend a permanent position.” He leaned forward, setting his elbows on his desk. “Agreed?”
She had no choice. Honestly, she was surprised she got Don to take this risk. The fact that Andy had been so well liked by everyone on the staff for years must have made the difference. “Agreed. I’ll call him today. Thanks, Don.”
He nodded, so she excused herself from his office and went to her own cramped quarters, which were located at the rear of the ski school. It required her to navigate the bustling open hall—one made more crowded by the Chri
stmas tree, wreaths, and large plastic silver bells hanging from the ceiling—where a hundred kids and their parents were rushing to get ready for their early-morning lessons.
Those eager faces and the chaos of falling equipment and snapping buckles always caused her to smile. She remembered being a young kid who couldn’t wait to get out on the slopes. Nothing had stopped her, not even her broken bones and few bad crashes. Absently, her fingers found their way to her rough scar.
“Hey, Nik. You coming to The Mineshaft with us after work?” Billy Benton, a twentysomething instructor, asked as he approached.
Many of the single instructors hit The Mineshaft on Mondays for the happy-hour special and family-style barbecue chicken and cornbread.
“A girl’s gotta eat, doesn’t she?” Nikki enjoyed hanging with the crew. She fit in with them thanks to a shared passion for outdoor sports and a lack of interest in fashion. It didn’t hurt that many of them, like Billy, were easy on the eyes. Billy was shorter by guy standards and, at five foot nine, at least an inch shorter than she was. He had chocolate-brown hair and eyes, and nice dimples, too. A little on the cocky side, but that wasn’t uncommon among pro ski bums.
“Great!” He smiled, hesitating for a second, his eyes settling on her scar for a fraction too long. “You should ask your sister to come, too.”
Well, sure. Why that “suggestion” had surprised her for more than a second was anybody’s guess, because it wasn’t the first, second, or third time one of these guys had tried to go through her to get to Amy. If she started charging a dating-service fee, she could easily afford a set of Romp full-custom skis. She smiled, covering her irritation. “Maybe I will.”
Billy’s eyes shone with appreciation and anticipation. “Great.”
“Is there something else?” she asked when he didn’t wander off.