by Jamie Beck
“Oh, speaking of Andy, there he is.” Amy pointed toward the checkout line, her face brightening before she called, “Hey, Andy!”
He turned around and waved when he saw them, new Santa cap in hand. “Ladies.”
Amy steered the cart right behind him. “I ought to be mad at you for injuring Nikki.” Her flirtatious tone made Nikki wince, but Andy didn’t react. “Now she can’t help me paint.”
Andy slid a look at Nikki, then said, “I told your sister I’m happy to help.”
“Oh?” Amy frowned at Nikki. “She never mentioned that to me. I’ll tell you what. You help me paint, and I’ll cut your hair for free.”
Oh, no, no, no! Nikki wasn’t ready for Andy to be in her apartment. It seemed somehow too intimate, which was ridiculous.
“Deal.” He grinned. “Where and when?”
Oh, dear.
“Tonight. Two-eight-seven-four Canyon Shadow Road, apartment two B.” Pert Amy’s little shoulders straightened.
“Or not two B,” he teased.
Nikki shook her head at the lame joke. “You don’t need to help. I can manage.”
“You just said your elbow hurt.” Amy scowled. Nikki felt her face heat.
“It’s no problem.” Andy set his few items on the conveyor belt.
“What time?”
“Seven o’clock?” Amy suggested.
He swiped his credit card. “See you then. Enjoy your dinner.”
After he’d signed for his things, he stuck the cap on his head and winked at them, then exited the store. Nikki waited until Andy disappeared before whapping her sister on the shoulder. “Why’d you do that?”
Amy frowned. “Why do you care? I thought he was your friend? He said he’s happy to help.”
When Nikki scowled, Amy defended. “I’m going to cut his hair, so it isn’t like he gets nothing out of it.” She started emptying their cart, murmuring, “Can’t wait to run my hands through those silky locks.”
Jealousy carved through Nikki like a freshly honed ski edge. Yet, she wasn’t willing to put her hat in the ring with Andy and risk rejection again, so how could she demand Amy refrain from trying?
She didn’t have time to worry about it. Now she needed to get home and clean the apartment before he saw how messy she was. Gah, the daily struggle to be neat. Epic fail.
#
Nikki had to admit that watching Andy’s arms flex as he rolled blue paint on her walls wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Maybe Amy’s plan had been inspired, after all. After spending two hours watching him paint this room, she wasn’t sure if the fumes or merely looking at Andy had caused her temporary high.
She sat on the edge of the recently vacuumed carpet, touching up the trim around the door to the kitchen while he painted the wall to her right.
They’d pushed the furniture and stuff toward the center of the room and carefully repositioned the small Christmas tree in the archway that led to the kitchen. Amy’s contribution to the effort consisted of playing Martina McBride’s Christmas album, making cocoa and baking cookies to impress Andy, and congratulating herself on the “fabulous” color choice. After all that “hard work,” she’d stepped away for a “short break.”
For the most part, Andy hadn’t been responding to Amy’s flirtations the way most men did. Nikki presumed Amy’s little break meant she’d either gone to plot a new approach or that she’d given up and was on her phone making plans with friends.
“We’re almost done,” Nikki remarked, feeling strangely tongue-tied with Andy so close and in her personal space. She wondered what he thought of her apartment.
Neither she nor Amy made much money, so they’d furnished the tiny unit with hand-me-downs and knickknacks people were giving away on Freecycle. The only artwork on display was of the homemade variety—photograph collages and some of Amy’s paintings from a watercolor class she’d taken two years ago. That and Nikki’s wind-chime collection, which they’d also had to take down before starting to paint.
“Nik, you know these don’t work indoors, right?” Andy had joked while unhooking one from the ceiling and setting it in the plastic bin she’d found at the bottom of her closet.
“I know. I love them, and I guess I keep hoping someday I’ll have a place surrounded by trees, with a front porch and a back porch. Then these will always be singing.”
“Sounds like a nice dream. Hope it comes true.” His expression had turned solemn.
“Me too.”
The one good thing about her current, if tight, quarters was the way it smelled. Amy had a thing for scented candles, and lately she’d stocked the place with some cinnamon-mandarin-pine scented candles that fit the season.
Then again, right now the whole place smelled like paint.
“Told ya we’d bang this out quickly.” He dipped the roller in the tray and then attacked the final unpainted section of the wall.
Nikki nodded. “I didn’t think I’d like this bold color, but, surprisingly, it makes the space look at lot more put together.”
Andy smiled down at her. “And it matches your eyes perfectly, just like I guessed.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She stood, having finished the trim.
“You should.” He rolled another swath of paint high and low, and she continued to spy on him and those corded muscles.
When he finished the final strokes, he stood back and glanced around. “It looks a lot better than that drab beige color. What is it with all the apartments in town having beige walls?”
“Goes with everything, I guess.” She shrugged.
“I’m used to living with Avery. Even this color wouldn’t be bold compared to the Mexican piñata color scheme we’ve got going on at the house.”
Nikki savored that tidbit of personal information, having always wondered about his house.
“Is it weird living with Grey and Avery?” She knew Avery and Andy had bought their parents’ house years ago, but now the odd threesome must have been experiencing growing pains.
“It’s not terrible. I’ve been thinking about asking them to buy me out for what equity I have in the place. They could assume my share of the mortgage. It would give me enough for first and last month’s rent plus some savings. But with my job situation up in the air, I need to play it safe.”
She understood. Andy was a ski instructor in the winter, and his handyman job at Emma’s inn would’ve been low paying and without benefits, too. “Have you ever thought of becoming a carpenter or plumber or something? They make more than a handyman.”
“To become a master plumber requires at least five solid years of experience, which means I’d have to give up ski instructing. I know I’m still on probation, but I’m hoping to make it stick. I can’t imagine giving it up, even though I’ll never get rich unless I win the lottery.” He tilted his head, smiling. “It’s not the smart move, but you understand. I can tell you love it as much as I do.”
She nodded because they definitely shared that passion. Too bad it hadn’t led to other types of passion. “What about home renovations? People around here are always updating the bathrooms and kitchens in these old Victorians. That seems like something you could do and make decent money.”
He cocked his head as if he’d never considered the idea. “I guess I could try. Would anyone hire the town felon, though?”
Technically, he wasn’t a felon, but she knew what he meant, and her heart twisted.
“If I had money, I’d hire you. Have you seen our bathroom?” She laughed, hoping to lighten the mood.
Amy wandered back into the room, interrupting them. Her flawless face beamed when she twirled around the crowded space, trying not to bump into anything. “I knew it would be striking.” She lunged toward Andy and hugged him. His eyes widened, but he hugged her back. “Thank you for helping. I can’t wait for our parents to see it on Christmas Eve.”
For the second time that day, Nikki repressed a surge of envy. Andy and Amy looked positively perf
ect together. Two beautiful people, who each approached every day with an easy smile and manner. Their personalities were well suited, and no one would deny they’d produce gorgeous, jolly little babies, too. As luck would have it, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” started playing, like the perfect soundtrack to a romantic comedy. Except this wasn’t very funny.
“I’m glad you’re so happy.” Andy eased out of Amy’s hold.
“Thrilled.” Amy reached up and fingered his hair. “Now, let’s clip this mop.”
“I don’t think I need a haircut.” He patted his hair and looked at Nikki. “Do you?”
“I like it as it is.” She loved when his heavy bangs fell across his eyes at times, and the way the back curled against his collar. Even more, she’d love to grab hold of all that hair in the throes of . . .
“What are you thinking?” Amy stared at her with a puzzled look on her face.
“Nothing. My mind blanked.” Liar, liar. She refrained from bringing her palm to her hot cheek. Could she be more ridiculous? Andy was destined for someone sweet and pretty like Amy, not someone as graceless and plain as she was.
“I’ll help you clean up, then I’ll get out of your way.” Andy bent over to collect the paint tray.
“Leave it, please. You’ve done enough,” Nikki insisted. She was sorry to see him go, but better that than watching Amy fawn all over him for another hour. No man, including Andy, could resist Amy’s charms indefinitely. “I’ll walk you out.”
Nikki followed him down the narrow stairwell to the door to the street and out onto the small front porch. “Thanks, again. I know I wasn’t very gracious at first.”
“It’s okay, Nik. You’ve never liked to ask for help.” He leaned close, resting one hand on the porch banister. “So, do you really think people would hire me to do small renovation jobs?”
Nikki saw the stark vulnerability in his eyes and wished she were emotionally bold like Amy so she could fling her arms around him, too. Of course, she didn’t act on that urge. “I do. If you want, I’ll keep my ear to the ground and feed you any leads.”
“Something to consider.” Then, as if he hadn’t stopped to think about it, he reached out and snatched a bit of her hair. Smiling at her, he said, “Looks like you got some blue highlights.”
She’d been so busy spying on him that she hadn’t been paying much attention to what she’d been doing. “Charming.”
“Actually, it is. Fits you and your uniqueness.” He tucked the curl behind her ear. Unlike Billy B, Andy’s eyes never once strayed to her scar.
It felt like the porch had turned into a raft drifting on a choppy lake. She could barely find her footing. Before she could reply, he bent down and kissed her on the cheek, right at the corner of her lips. Soft and warm, and she wished he’d move just a touch to the left.
“Good night, Nik.” He pulled back, lingering for a second as if assessing her response.
Does he want me to kiss him? He’s on probation at work. I’m his boss. Billy B is making waves. Don’t spin something out of nothing. He’s only a friend. Just a friendly guy.
“Good night.” She stepped back with a little wave.
Andy nodded, shoved his hands in his coat pockets, and jogged down the steps toward his car.
Once inside, she leaned against the closed door and touched the corner of her mouth where his lips had been. Bittersweet yearning coursed through her like adrenaline.
If I’m not careful, he’ll break my heart.
Chapter Six
During the holiday season, red ribbons and enormous pine wreaths blanketed the interior of the Cliff Lodge, helping to mask the aroma of greasy food and spilled beer. By the time Andy finished belting out the old Journey song Nikki had selected as part of their bet, all of the employees had joined in to chant “Don’t stop . . . believin’.”
He didn’t exactly relish being center stage, yet hanging out with his friends in a party environment and somehow belonging again were about the best Christmas gifts he could’ve asked for—occasional off-key vocals be damned.
When the final note ended, he left the stage amid enthusiastic applause. People slapped his back, offering praise, but he wanted to get to Nikki. He’d seen the surprise in her eyes when he’d started to sing. He’d seen something else, too. Something that looked a little like admiration, which he hadn’t felt in forever, and maybe even a little like lust.
Lust was another thing he’d been missing in his life. Now reignited, that fire spurred him to action. In the back of his mind, he understood it could also get him burned. Right now he didn’t seem to care.
He breezed past the table where all the Secret Santa gifts were displayed. He’d been hired too late to participate in the team-wide tradition, but he’d anonymously slipped a little something there for Nikki. She’d know it was from him, no doubt. But he was sure she’d keep her poker face in place.
He crossed to her, palms out. “Well?”
“Pretty good.” Her lips twitched like she was fighting a smirk. “Nice to know we won’t need to cover our ears when you sing it again.”
“Same song? How about you let me pick the next one instead.” He pulled out a chair and sat back, stretching his legs.
Cindy, a fortysomething instructor who liked to work with the pre-K kids, leaned forward. “How about Bon Jovi?”
“What? Why are you guys so into the eighties?” Andy laughed.
“The best karaoke is from the eighties. How about Madonna?” Nik proposed.
“Vogue.” He framed his face with his hands, then shook his head. “You can do better. How about a classic, like Sinatra?”
His mother had loved Sinatra’s crooning because it reminded her of childhood days spent at her grandmother’s house. He’d heard “Fly Me to the Moon” so often as a kid he could recite it in his sleep.
“Maybe a country classic, like Willie Nelson.” Nikki swallowed a long gulp of beer.
“Okay, I can live with that.” He smiled at her, wishing Cindy and the others would make themselves scarce.
Nikki looked great in her comfortable jeans, fitted red sweater, and hair curling right above her breasts. When she laughed so hard she practically snorted, it only made her more appealing to him. He admired her lack of pretense. Most of all, her confidence in him had come along just when he’d lost faith in second chances, and that was the best Christmas gift of all.
Instead of everyone leaving them alone, Joanna, a resort daycare worker, popped up and extended her hand. “How about a dance, Andy?”
In his periphery, he saw Nikki press her lips together and look away. He’d rather dance with Nik, but this was a work party, Don was in the corner observing everyone, and chances were very high that even if Nik had any interest in him, she’d never express it in front of the crew. Especially not with Billy nearby, ready to gossip.
Joanna’s hand still dangled in front of him, so he said, “Sure.”
Jo had always been fun, so he followed her to the small dance floor and shuffled along to some Pitbull song, raising his hands in the air during the refrain along with everyone else.
“We’ve missed you, Andy.” She swiveled her hips and stepped a little closer. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Thanks, Jo.” Naturally, he smiled. Didn’t even take any effort, because those words were music to his ears after being exiled for nearly two seasons. “Good to be back.”
Then she performed some kind of slithery dance move that brushed up against his body. Objectively, Jo was a hottie in that all-American, Ralph Lauren–model kind of way. At another time and place, he might’ve followed her lead and enjoyed a fling without giving it much thought.
Not tonight.
Across the room, he caught Nikki’s eye. She turned to Cindy, said something, and then the two women went to the bar.
The stiffness in her demeanor telegraphed invaluable information. The good news: Nikki still liked him. He knew jealousy when he saw it, and Nik didn’t like watching him dance with Jo.
The bad news: Nik was his boss, and he was still on work probation. She might as well be married for how off-limits she was right now. Well, how off-limits she should be. If he were smart, she’d be totally, 100 percent, off-limits. If—a word that had never been his friend.
When the song ended, a fellow instructor, Greg, whistled and beckoned Andy to a table of guys who’d ordered a round of shots. So far this evening, Andy had only downed one beer. He’d also eaten at least a dozen wings and two pulled-pork sandwiches, which meant he must have been the soberest person in the room.
He knew he shouldn’t risk drinking that shot here, while on probation, but he also didn’t want to ostracize himself just when he’d finally been welcomed back into the group. Resigned, he slouched onto a chair while Greg pushed a shot glass in front of him.
“To your triumphant return!” Greg raised his glass, and the others, including Billy B, did, too.
He couldn’t very well sit out a toast in his honor, so he saluted them with his glass and tossed back the tequila. He’d barely enjoyed it when he noticed Don watching him with a grim expression.
One shot and he was getting the stink-eye; meanwhile, Billy B sat there slurring his words and slouching in his seat.
Andy pretended to be chuckling along with the guy talk, but inside, he counted to one hundred in a concentrated effort not to lose his shit. How many more years would it be before he could enjoy a few social drinks without calling attention to himself? How many times and ways would he be forced to prove himself before people would stop reminding him of his mistake? Funny how there was a statute of limitations on most crimes but not on judgment.
Greg’s large hand landed on his shoulder, breaking his train of thought. “Another round?”
“Nah.” He wasn’t exactly in the mood for tits-and-ass conversation or fish tales about out-of-bounds cliff jumps and couloir runs nobody else witnessed. Abruptly, Andy stood. “Excuse me.”
He went to the bar and ordered a soda, then tossed back two fistfuls of nuts and willed himself to shake off the bitterness and get back to enjoying the party.