“Bet you sweated it all out on the hike.”
He laughed, opening the door and leading me into the heavy heat. “You’re right. It all seemed so easy on the way down.”
“My legs are still killing me from that climb back up.”
At the second rest stop, Croft and Girard had determined that a few people from the group should head back up. They had encouraged the rest of us to continue, if we felt up for it, and my dad and I had made it down to Indian Garden, the five-mile rest stop. To be honest, I probably could have gone on. My body was feeling great at that point—my heart, on the other hand, was still throbbing painfully in confusion. When my dad indicated that he wanted to go back up, I agreed to join him.
Which totally had nothing to do with the fact that Rick, along with Croft, were going to try to make it all the way down to the river. Nothing at all.
I’ll see the river next time, I reminded myself as my dad and I strolled down the Strip toward my condo. We probably should have taken a cab, considering the heat, but I wanted to enjoy as much time with him as possible before I had to take him back.
“Have you seen Rick?” he asked casually.
“Not since we left him in the canyon.”
Since Rick and Croft were planning to camp out at the lodge that night, Girard had decided we didn’t need to wait for them when the rest of us reached the rim. And my dad I had left the resort the next day before he got back.
I had received a text from him the night we got back. Won’t be coming in tomorrow. Working on those plans. Can we go over them Tuesday?
So at least I had that. I had wondered if the awkwardness would turn him off from working with me on the new direction of the project, but at least we were on the same page there. I holed up in my office, alone, for most of the day Monday, working hard on the new plans, trying to focus on my excitement, rather than on the sick feeling I got every time I pictured Rick’s narrowed eyes.
“Well, you’ll have to say goodbye for me the next time you see him,” my dad said.
I nodded, distracted by thoughts of the project. We turned the corner onto my block, and I tried to push those thoughts away, to focus on my dad for these last few minutes—
“Rick!” my dad called happily. “I was just telling Annabelle she’d have to pass along my goodbyes.”
I gaped at the man standing in front of my building. Rick was dressed in worn jeans and a grey T-shirt, looking about as good as I had ever seen him. His face was dark with stubble, his hair a tousled mess. I wondered, briefly, if he had been working on the project all night before my brain caught up and started wondering instead what in the hell he was doing here.
He was grinning at my dad. “I wanted to say goodbye in person.”
He met my eyes and I breathed out a sigh of relief. He looked normal again, the hard set of his eyes replaced with something more like friendliness—though that might have just been the exhaustion.
“I’m glad you did,” my dad said, putting a hand on his shoulder
Rick looked abashed, his gaze snapping to the floor. “Yeah, well, after last time, I figured it was the least I could do.”
I was momentarily confused. Last time? But then Rick was looking up to meet my dad’s eyes, and his were contrite but firm. “I’m sorry I took off that summer without saying goodbye, Mr. Elliot. After everything you did for me, it was inexcusable of me. I’ve always regretted it.”
My breath caught. It was the first time he had directly addressed that day, his leaving. A little thread of jealousy unfurled in my stomach. He had left me without saying goodbye, too. Where was my apology?
But my dad merely took a step forward and hugged Rick. He said something in his ear, too soft for me to hear, but Rick nodded, closing his eyes for a brief moment, before my dad released him.
Finally, Rick turned to me. “I wanted to drop this off.”
He held out his hand, and I mirrored the motion without thinking, taking the small, plastic stick from his hand. It took me a moment to realize it was a flash drive—I was too distracted by the fire that seemed to overtake my entire hand as his skin grazed mine.
“What is this?”
“It’s those plans.”
I gaped at him. “You have plans already?”
He laughed. “Well, they’re just preliminary. They need some work. But I’ve been up for forty-eight hours straight working.”
“Rick!”
He shrugged. “It was fun, believe me. I just wanted to give you what I had so far so you could get started on your end. I’m going to go back to the hotel and crash for a while and then meet you at the office later, okay?”
“That’s perfect.” The jealousy quickly shriveled up, replaced by a warmth that this was really happening. We were really going to work on this together.
Before he could respond, a voice called my name from down the block. The three of us turned as one to see Will approaching. It took me a split second to register who it was—Will, the guy I had been dating—because I had spent so much of the last few days thinking about anything but him. Probably not a good sign for the relationship, I thought, sighing, but put on my brightest smile.
“Hi, Will! What are you doing here?”
He slipped an arm around my shoulder, kissing the top of my head, and I could feel Rick stiffen from three feet away. “I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I might catch you before work.”
He looked around at the other two men, as if only just then noticing they were there. Rick he basically ignored, but his eyes widened at the sight of my dad. “Mr. E!” he cried, releasing me to shake my dad’s hand. “Long time no see! How are you?”
“Good, Will, good.”
“I forgot Annabelle said you were coming in for a visit. I just got back to town myself.”
“I saw your mother right before I left,” my dad said. “She said you’ve been doing well.”
Will laughed that lazy laugh that I found so charming, putting his arm back around me and squeezing me tightly to his side. “Can’t complain.”
I don’t know what it was that made me glance at Rick at that moment, but I knew I would never forget the look on his face. Every feature was hard, as if etched from stone, and his eyes were mere slits in his face. For the briefest moment, I thought he might be jealous, and was immediately ashamed of the rush of joy the idea gave me. But then, he directed those narrowed eyes at me, and I realized his seeming dislike for Will had nothing to do with tender feelings toward me.
Because he was looking at me the exact same way.
“I have to go,” he said, his voice as cold as I had heard it. He turned to my dad. “It really was great to see you, Mr. Elliot. I hope it’s not ten years until the next time.”
“Me, too,” my dad said, his eyes darting to me in a way that couldn’t be more obvious. If Rick picked up on the hint, he ignored it—and ignored me, turning on his heel and marching down the street without so much as a word to me or Will.
“Isn’t that the guy from L.A?” Will asked, watching Rick’s retreating back.
I nodded, feeling sick. What in the hell had that been about? “We work together.”
“Hmm.” Will continued to watch Rick until he turned a corner and disappeared from view. Then, he turned back to me. Was I imagining the nervousness that I saw in his face? My brain was still spinning from Rick’s abrupt change of mood to focus on whatever might be going on with Will.
“So,” he said to my dad, his voice sounding falsely cheery. “Are you heading home soon?”
“Right now, actually,” my dad said, checking his watch. “Annabelle is taking me to the airport as soon as I go up and get my bags.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.” But he didn’t seem that disappointed. In fact, he seemed to be inching away from me, as if getting ready to make his escape. “Then I won’t keep you. I’m sure you both probably want to enjoy the last of your time together.”
“Thanks,” I told him. He pulled me into a hug but it felt stiff, m
ethodical.
“I’ll call you later.”
“Okay.”
He shook my dad’s hand once more, wishing him a safe flight, before heading off down the street in the opposite direction Rick had gone.
I shook my head, wondering if I had imagined that entire exchange. They had both seemed strange, Rick downright antagonistic. What was going on?
“Let’s grab that bag,” my dad said, taking my arm. I was grateful for him being there to lead me. Part of me wanted to chase Rick down the street and demand to know exactly what his problem was. How could he be so hot and cold with me? One minute, he was friendly, excited about working together. The next, he was shooting me daggers across the sidewalk. Was he still mad at me for something that happened ten years ago?
Where does he get off? I wondered, punching the button to the elevator with much more force than necessary. He was the one who left. All I asked for was some more time. To think of a plan that didn’t require me dropping out of school and giving up my entire future. He’s the one who couldn’t give me that. He’s the one who left! I thought, wishing my dad wasn’t there so I could stomp my foot, hit the elevator wall, scream, anything.
Instead, my dad reached for my hand, applying gentle pressure. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
I took deep breaths through my nose as the elevator ascended, trying to believe him.
The important thing is that he’s here, I reminded myself. Fuck Rick and his moody little temper tantrums. You have approximately half an hour left with your dad.
We grabbed his bags from the living room, and he took a last look around my apartment. “This is a great place, pumpkin,” he said. “It will be hard to leave.” He met my gaze, his eyes clearly telling me that he expected me to go through with it, hard as it might be. I straightened, feeling better. Screw Rick. My dad believed in me. My dad trusted me to get out of this situation and find something better.
We didn’t talk much on the ride back down, this time bypassing the lobby for the below-ground parking garage. The attendant, Hector, waved as we passed. My silver Lexus, bought secondhand for a steal, was close to the door, and I climbed inside while my dad insisted on loading up his own bag.
“So,” he said, once he was sitting next to me and I pulled out of the spot, “that was kind of weird, huh?”
I snorted. “You could say that.”
“What does Rick have against Will?”
I shrugged, feeling my blood pressure start to rise. “I have no idea. They’ve barely even met.”
“Hmm.” My dad was quiet a moment as we pulled out into the ever-heavy Vegas traffic. “You know…I’m not sure if I should be butting in here, Annabelle.”
Definitely not in the mood to hear about what a good guy he thought Rick was, I groaned. “Dad.”
“Just hear me out. I did run into Will’s mom last week. She told me he was working in real estate, did you know that?”
I nodded, not sure where he was heading with this. “He flips houses.”
“Flips houses.”
“Yeah. You know, restores, renovates, and then sells them for a profit.”
“Houses.”
“Yes, dad. Houses.” I was trying to keep my temper in check, not wanting to snap at him during our last minutes together, but I also really didn’t feel like spending that time going over all of the details of Will Clay’s current employment status. What did it have to do with anything?
But then my dad said something that made my entire body go cold.
“That’s not what his mother said.”
Stopped at a red light, I turned to him. “What do you mean?”
He looked uncomfortable. “She definitely didn’t say houses. She said he was working with a real estate developer. Now, she might have just been exaggerating, you know what she’s like—”
A bad feeling was growing in my stomach, like a sickness spreading out to my limbs. “Dad. What exactly did she say?”
He spoke the next words in a rush. “She said he was working on a bid to develop a hotel. A place off the Strip. With some big-name investment group. She said it was a boutique hotel with a spa. That they were looking for something really high end.”
I went entirely cold. A memory of that night in L.A. was struggling to surface—something Will had said. “Dad,” I said, my voice sounding strange. “Did you see Will in Detroit recently?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t seen that boy in years.”
Just like that, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Will was up for the same hotel. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew it. He had told me that he’d seen my dad at home, that it was the first he’d heard of me being in Vegas. He had lied. Why would he have done that if he didn’t have something to hide? A voice in the back of my head was saying not to jump to conclusions, that there were always hotels being built, that he could be doing anything.
Then why lie to me? Why lie about seeing my dad? Why tell me he was flipping houses?
I thought back to our series of dates, of the questions he asked about my work, and the urge to throw up doubled. At the time, I had found it flattering, so different from the disinterest I was used to from the guys I dated. But now…
“He was trying to get information out of me,” I whispered, my throat dry. “All those questions, all that interest…”
“Annabelle, you don’t know that. You should talk to him.”
Suddenly, Rick’s narrowed eyes flashed through my mind. Did Rick know? Had he somehow come across Will or his company in the weeks since Los Angeles? Oh God.
“I was so stupid.” I swallowed hard, but not hard enough to dislodge the lump that was firmly attached to my throat. “I walked right into it. I thought he liked me.”
“Annabelle—”
“Daddy, you don’t understand. I gave him information.”
But it was old information, I suddenly realized, my heart lightening a degree. It was information from before this weekend. It had nothing to do with the things Rick and I talked about.
I felt so relieved, I thought I might faint. I gripped the steering wheel harder.
“Maybe I should drive.” My dad’s voice was worried.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” I would just have to explain to Rick that I hadn’t known. And then we’d have to tell Emma about what Will knew—I felt another shot of nausea at that thought—and show her how this was just another reason that it was important we go in a different direction. The direction Rick and I had planned.
As we neared the airport, I eyed the signs directing traffic to parking, trying to decide if I had time for that or if I should just drop him curbside.
As if sensing my hesitation, my dad patted my shoulder. “You probably need to get to work. Just drop me off, sweetheart. I can get to security myself.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” He was silent for a moment as I navigated traffic, finally finding a curbside spot right by his entrance. Only then did he turn to me. “If this kid was really manipulating you like that...” His eyes flashed. “You kick his ass, Annabelle, you hear me? You show that punk that he messed with the wrong lady.”
For the first time since Will walked up to my building, my face broke into a real grin. “I will, Daddy.”
“I mean it. You’re supposed to be some fierce pit bull in business, right?”
I nodded, laughing. “That’s me.”
“Then you kick his ass.”
I moved to open my door, but he caught my arm. “I can get my bag. You go to work.”
I leaned across the gear shaft, hugging him as tightly as I could. Part of me wanted to cry, to hold on forever. But his words had lit a fire in me. I was going to go back to work, and I was going to fix this. If Will really was working for a competing firm, I was going to destroy him.
My dad kissed my cheek. “You call me, okay?”
“I will, Dad. Have a safe flight.”
He opened the door before turning back to me, staring at my face for
a long moment. “I love you. I’m so proud of you.”
I swallowed, the lump finally dislodging. “I love you, too, Dad. Thank you so much for coming out. I loved every minute.”
I watched as he pulled his bag from the trunk and headed to the door. He turned back there, seeing me still at the curb, and waved me away. I laughed, wiping at the tears in my eyes, and pulled back out into the traffic.
Already, my mind was whirling with what needed to be done. The first thing was to confirm my suspicions, though I would be shocked if I was wrong. I pressed the voice command button on the steering wheel, telling the computer voice to call Etta at the office.
“Annabelle?” she asked. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in days! Have you heard about Lucy? She—”
“Etta,” I interrupted. “I’m really sorry, but I need you to do me a favor, and I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Oh, sure. What’s up?”
“Can you please go through the files of the other firms with bids in?”
“Oh, hang on, let me grab a pen.” I tried my best not to roll my eyes in frustration. What was she doing answering the phone without a message pad in front of her? I tapped my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. Finally, she returned. “Okay. Competing firms. What am I looking for?”
“I need a name. I have no idea what company he might be working for. He could be a contractor or in-house, I’m not sure. You might have to dig a little.”
“What’s the name?”
I swallowed. “Will Clay.”
“Will Clay,” she repeated. “William, I’m assuming?”
“Yes, William. But check both, I don’t know what he uses for work.”
“Okay. I got this. I’ll call you right back.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, happy to at least be doing something productive. “Thanks, Etta. So, what’s going on around there?”
“Well, Rick just got in.”
I froze. Rick was at the office? Rick was supposed to be going back to the hotel to crash. “Rick?”
“Yeah. They’re all shut up in a meeting.”
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