by Addison Fox
She sat and watched him compose himself. It was odd, actually, to watch him struggle for something to say. He usually knew exactly the perfect thing to say, or do, or think.
“Clearly Sloan doesn’t think all that much of me.” He laughed, emitting a harsh bark that broke the silence of the room. “She never did think much of me, anyway, so I suppose that’s no surprise.”
Grier inwardly cringed at Sloan’s unwelcome greeting in the bar before they’d managed to escape to the conference room. “What makes you say that?”
“She never liked me. She put on a good face for you, but it wasn’t hard to see.”
“See what?”
“That she wanted to scrape me off her shoe like a piece of gum.”
Not for the first time Grier wondered how she could have been so incredibly blind. How had she missed all the signs? She’d ignored her own doubts, which was bad enough.
But how had she ignored the apparently not-so-subtle cues from someone she loved and respected as much as she did Sloan?
All for what?
“I owe you an apology.” Jason’s words broke into her thoughts.
“You said you were sorry about six hundred times before I left New York. Did you really need to travel four thousand miles to say it again? Besides, they do have phones up here, if you were that concerned about repeating it one more time.”
“This is about more than saying I’m sorry.”
She glanced up at that. “What more is there to say?”
“I want you back.”
A resounding Hell no! rose up in her throat, but she held back, curiosity rapidly replacing the horror that he might be serious.
“That feeling is far from mutual.”
“I know you’ve had a lot going on, but surely we can figure this out.”
“We have figured it out. And the equation was a division of our relationship.”
He sat up straighter at that and the competitive edge she’d always seen in him came roaring to life. “How can you throw away what we had? We were almost married, for fuck’s sake.”
“You threw it away, Jason. The moment you made the decision to have sex with someone who wasn’t me.”
“I didn’t have sex with her.”
Grier stood, the anger she’d managed to keep on a low simmer flaring bonfire-high. “If you’re going to sit there and tell me some woman who is not me, wrapping her tongue around your dick isn’t sex, this conversation is over.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” He stood as well and pointed to her seat. “That was cheap of me and not true. I’m not a politician and I didn’t come up here to make excuses to you.”
“Then why did you come up here?”
“To fix things.”
“Did you ever think maybe they were broken for a reason?”
His dark brown gaze shot to hers. “Do you really think that?”
She sat again on a sigh. She’d promised to have a conversation with him and there was no reason not to have it. “I do now. And if I’m honest with myself, I did see it before, but I kept ignoring the signs.”
In hindsight, that should have been a bright, blinking clue that the two of them weren’t the best match—the restless questions and the sleepless nights—but she’d overlooked it. Had told herself it was silly and immature to want the spark.
So she’d focused again and again on how compatible they were. And how stable their life was, since they never argued or fought or even disagreed. And she spent all of her time reassuring the increasingly loud voice of her subconscious as it whispered late at night in her ear that it was all so very mature of her to make a decision about her future with her head.
“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you try to talk to me about it?”
“Because there was an engagement announcement and wedding plans and it was all completely out of control. And every time I listened to that small voice in my head trying to tell me something was wrong, you and I were off doing something else like picking china or scoping out honeymoon spots, and I told myself it was just cold feet.”
“So how can I make it up to you?”
“You can’t, Jason.” Chooch’s words came flooding back from earlier and she found herself selecting bits and pieces to make her point. “We were on the same path for a while, but we got off. And we can’t go back to it.”
“You have to believe me; that wasn’t me.” He held up a hand before she could say anything. “Hear me out, please. What I did was me and I take responsibility for that choice. But you have to understand something. I don’t act that way. In fact, I’ve never acted that way. It’s disrespectful and it’s not part of how I treat the women I’m involved with.”
“So why did you do it?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends. “I fucking do not know.”
“Maybe it’s the only way you knew how to get out.”
He looked up at that. “I don’t want out. That’s why I’m up here. I want you back in my life.”
“Do you really, Jason?”
Grier stood and reached for her wine. “All I can tell you is this. I forgive you. In fact, as I’ve thought about it, I pretty much forgave you the moment I pulled that engagement ring off my finger and the weight of the world lifted off my chest.”
“You really felt that way? Like everything was bearing down on you?”
“I really did.” She crossed around the table and leaned down to press a kiss on his cheek. “And I bet if you dig way down in your heart, you’ll agree with me.”
Mick tried to concentrate on whatever it was Walker and Doc Cloud were saying about the upcoming play-off games this weekend, but the sounds of their voices were a heavy blur. He was on the verge of walking down the hotel’s hallway toward the conference room and doing physical harm to that fucking interloper from New York.
The only thing that kept him in his seat was the fact that no matter how many ways he tried to twist it, he had no claim on Grier. And he had no right to interfere with whatever history had to be cleared up with that asshole.
He took another long drag on his beer and tried desperately to come up with some recollection of why the Patriots’ defense would whip the Raiders’ offense.
Or why he should care.
And then he saw her walk back into the lobby—sans the asshole—and the murderous haze coloring his vision receded slightly. Grier’s smoky gaze settled on his before she crossed to their small conversation circle and took an empty seat between him and Sloan.
He lifted the bottle that sat on the table. “Need a refill?”
“God yes.” Grier smiled, but he didn’t miss the tension lines that still bracketed her mouth. And he really didn’t miss the overly cheerful tone that came out seconds later.
“So, what did I miss?”
“The over-under on the Pats/Raiders game and Walker’s rhapsodic chants about the appetizers on the menu for our reception.”
The heavy-handed cadence eased a bit and he saw the first genuine smile cross Grier’s face since she’d walked back in. “So what is on the menu?”
“I am a man of simple tastes and I think my request was simple, too.” Walker took a swig of his beer. “Although I think I nearly gave Sloan’s mother a heart attack when I told her I had only two requests for the wedding.”
“What were they?” Grier probed.
“Mass quantities of pigs in a blanket and her daughter at the end of the aisle. Not in that order of importance.”
Mick practically saw the sighs rise up in little hearts around each woman and he couldn’t resist giving his friend a hard time. “You’re going to make the rest of us look bad, buddy.”
“Some people can do that all on their own,” Sloan added with a pointed look toward the bar and the now-absent Jason.
Grier shot her a dark look. “That’s not nice.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. Did you have any idea he was going to show up here?” Sloan shot the bar area—and her ima
gined target—one final parting glare before turning back to pick up her wine.
Grier reached for her glass. “Of course not! I was shocked nearly speechless when I walked into the lobby earlier today and saw him standing there with Mick.”
“When did he get here?” Sloan seemed unwilling to drop the subject and Mick felt a small stab of annoyance that they were wasting time even discussing this.
“This morning.” Mick set his empty bottle on the small table next to their open wine bottle and reached for the freshie Avery had deposited a few minutes earlier. “I brought him up from Anchorage.”
“You should have left his ass there,” Sloan grumbled, clearly dissatisfied with Indigo’s newest visitor.
“Believe me, had I known who he was, I’d have given it serious consideration.”
“I don’t know which one of you is worse than the other.” Grier’s voice was soft as she stared into her wine.
“He’s the asshole, Grier,” Sloan argued. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of forgiving him?”
Mick didn’t miss the tension between the women and wondered at the sudden change. From the moment he’d first seen them together, they were completely in tune with each other, so it was a surprise to see such dark emotions swirling around the two of them.
“You know, it’s all well and good of you to tell me that now,” Grier muttered. “I don’t want anything to do with him anymore. Where was the help a year ago?”
“You were engaged a year ago.”
Mick and Walker exchanged glances as the conversation veered and made landfall.
“Right. When knowing your true feelings would have done me a hell of a lot more good.” Grier set her glass down on their small table with a heavy thunk.
Before any of them realized what was happening, Grier stood and was halfway across the lobby.
Sloan got up to follow after her, but Walker had his hand on her arm, holding her in place.
“Walker. I need to go apologize.”
“You can do that later.” Walker kept his voice low and allowed his gaze to briefly roam the room. “Look around. She’s got a lot of witnesses and she’s a little raw right now.”
“But—”
“She’s embarrassed, Sloan,” Mick said, unable to help interjecting.
Without waiting for a response, he set his beer on the table and followed the same snaking path Grier had taken through the lobby.
Chapter Eleven
Anger carried her through the lobby and past the front desk, but sheer practicality had Grier stopping at the door. It was January in Alaska.
Shit, she needed a coat.
A quick glance behind the concierge desk turned up the heavy down coat Chris the handyman used when he had to go outside. Remembering he was off duty and enjoying a few beers in the bar with Bear and Tommy, she grabbed the coat, vowing to take it for only a few minutes.
She needed air.
And she needed to catch her breath.
Although it was early evening, the sun had long since vanished and the dark, overcast sky did nothing for her mood. Heavy flakes of snow drifted down and she burrowed farther into the oversized coat that she could have wrapped around herself twice.
With each step that took her farther from the hotel, Grier allowed her self-righteous indignation free rein.
Damn it, where did Sloan come off? She wasn’t the one who had to sit there and look her cheating ex-fiancé in the eye—in front of a roomful of people, no less.
“Watch out for the ice.”
Grier whirled at the sound of another voice, slamming her hand against her heart. She’d been so wrapped up in her personal misery, she hadn’t even heard footsteps behind her.
She knew she shouldn’t be surprised to see Mick. She wasn’t even surprised at the sly curl of desire that fluttered through her body and she attempted to push away the anger that filled her.
She was, however, surprised he’d come instead of Sloan.
“Why are you here?”
“You looked upset.”
“I am upset.”
“At Sloan?” Mick waited a beat. “Or is it something else?”
Grier couldn’t hold back the laugh that came out in a half-strangled choking sound. “Something else? How about everything else?”
“So what are you doing about it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. For the record, all I was trying to do was sit there and have a few drinks with my friends when Sloan went and shoved it in my face that Jason, my poor excuse for a fiancé, was here.”
“Ex-fiancé.”
Another one of those sly fingers of need floated through her, rolling through her stomach in fluttery waves.
“Exactly.”
“For what it’s worth, I thought the point you made back there was a valid one.”
Grier glanced up from where she kicked at a snowdrift with her foot. “What?”
“About how Sloan felt about him. If she disliked him that bad, she should have told you.”
“The girlfriend code often prevents that sort of honesty.”
“Why?”
“A friend can say only so much. Or family, too. People are entitled to make their own decisions about what they’re going to do with their lives. That’s extra true of whom they plan to marry.”
“That sounds like a bullshit cop-out to me.”
Grier’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”
“It’s bullshit. If people put more energy into their relationships instead of avoiding difficult conversations, they’d be a lot better off.”
While his words had a distinct ring of truth to them, she couldn’t help but defend her friend. “And what should Sloan have done? Tell me what she really thought of Jason and risk having us not be friends any longer?”
“Would you have dropped her?”
“No.” Grier paused, unwilling to be anything less than honest. “But it would have made things awkward. So I’d likely have avoided inviting her to things that included couples.”
“You’d have done that anyway if Wall Street had any say in it.”
Again, she felt her mouth dropping and wondered when she’d turned into a gaping fish. “What makes you think that?”
“He’s looking for a fancy dinner partner, not a wife. And your very eligible friend, which she was at the time, wouldn’t have been a suitable person for his married dinner partner to hang out with on a regular basis.”
“You don’t even know him. He wouldn’t have asked that of me.”
“It’d have been slow and subtle,” Mick pushed on. “But it would have happened. And one day you’d have looked up and you and Sloan would have just drifted apart.”
Grier thought about all the long nights over the last few months. Those endless hours with nothing but her thoughts, when she tried to piece together what had gone wrong.
And more than once, she’d been unable to shake the idea that she and Jason had been in a relationship based on something other than love. Had anyone asked her at the time, she’d have said she was in love.
But he’d been surprisingly easy to get over.
Unlike Mick.
On a soft sigh, she pushed the thought away, loath to compare Jason and Mick. Jason was her past and Mick—well, he was his own man.
“That doesn’t paint a very nice picture of me. Or of how I value my friends.”
“But it likely would have been your life, Grier. Which is why you’re more embarrassed than hurt about what she said.”
“Aren’t you full of opinions.”
“I’m just calling them like I see them.”
“Well, you’ve got one thing right. I am embarrassed and I feel like a fool. As though everyone knew what was going on but me.”
“You’re not a fool.”
“Yes, but I feel like one. Which is really all that matters.”
Mick threw up his hands and she nearly laughed at the disgusted look that rode his features as he kicked at a pile of snow in a move strangely remini
scent of hers. “And people wonder why I like my orderly, logical planes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Seriously. Life’s not about making one perfect decision after another, Grier. There’s no scorecard. We’re not fools when we make a bad decision and geniuses when we make a good one.”
“But making good decisions doesn’t make us feel bad.”
He whirled on her from where he focused on the snow and Grier took a step back at the feral gleam in his eye. “Oh no? Because I think you and I made a pretty damn good decision last month and you’ve been running from it ever since.”
“This conversation has nothing to do with that night.”
Even as she said the words, Grier wondered how her nose wasn’t growing.
That night. That single, glorious night when she’d put her brain on hold and let her heart make the decisions.
She’d changed in those long hours in his arms. She’d given in and taken what she’d wanted, instead of behaving like the person she was expected to be.
And it had been perfect.
Until she’d run. Because actions had consequences and how the hell could she, a New Yorker to the core, carry on an affair with a bush pilot from Alaska?
Or worse, how could she fall in love with him?
“This conversation has everything to do with that night.”
Mick had sworn to himself he wasn’t going there. He wasn’t going to goad her and force her to explain what had happened after that amazing night they’d spent together.
And what had he gone and done after three minutes in her company?
He’d fucking gone there.
“That just…happened. And it was wonderful and amazing.”
The anger that pulsed in his blood flashed over to out-and-out rage. “Do. Not. Pacify. Me.”
Whatever he was feeling reflected right back at him in the sheer ire that tightened her lips and had her spine going rigid.
“What do you want me to say? That it was the most amazing night of my life? That you gave me back a piece of myself, Mick? Because last time I checked, men didn’t want to hear that sort of flowery shit from the women they have a one-night stand with in the middle of a damn sauna.”
She stormed off before his addled brain could register she’d left.
