Page 33 of Against All Odds

I sighed. Fuck it! I’d go with the truth and not dance around it. “If you must know, they’re for Sable.”

The ladies of Aspen were like bloodhounds, sniffing out half-truths and gossip, and frankly, I didn’t have the patience for that.

“Wonderful,” the florist replied, her eyes now kindand soft. “She’s such a sweet girl, isn’t she? We used to work at the soup kitchen together. She’d be there every Thursday and Friday evening. I told her to be with her husband, but heapparentlyworked late, and now,” she sneered, “we know who he wasworking.”

Perhaps she wouldn’t gossip about the flowers since she was Sable’s friend. I hoped so. Not that it mattered because I’d spilled the beans to Natasha, who definitely would.

Natasha’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“What is?” I was on my last nerve. This town needed to find a new hobby.

Natasha tilted her head, considering me. “Nothing. Just didn’t think she’d go for someone like you.”

I frowned, irritation sparking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged. “Relax, Heath. I didn’t mean it as an insult.” She paused, her tone softening. “Actually, it’s good. She deserves good things to happen to her for once. You’re probably better than the rest of the assholes in this town.”

“That isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.”

I paid for the bouquet, and when Natasha didn’t make a move to buy flowers, I looked at her pointedly, “You here to talk to me? Or….”

She hesitated, glancing around the florist shop like she was debating what she wanted. “You got time for a drink?”

I remembered how she had defended Sable at theWildflower when Alexa and Leslie bad-mouthed her, so I followed her across the street to J-Bar. Sable’s flowers were wrapped up, and according to the lovely florist, Dina, they would last at least four to five hours without a vase.

J-Bar was at the Hotel Jerome, and I knew the general manager there well, as we were part of the networking group for hotel GMs in Aspen. I’d been to the bar several times and liked the historic watering hole on Main Street. As a hotel man, I noticed the details, and J-Bar was the perfect blend of rustic charm and upscale polish. The bar designers had paired plush leather seats with rough-hewn wooden beams and used old black-and-white photos of skiers and miners on the walls to create an inclusive ambiance, no matter what you did for a living.

As the GM had told me, “This is where ski bums rub elbows with socialites over craft beers.”

Natasha and I found a seat in the corner near the window, surrounded by precisely that mix of clientele.

I ordered a bourbon while Natasha went for the Burgundy Chardonnay. The flowers I’d picked up for Sable sat awkwardly on the chair next to me, like they didn’t quite belong in a bar like this. Then again, I wasn’t sure if this conversation did, either.

Natasha hadn’t said much since we sat down. She toyed with the stem of her wineglass, her eyes darting toward the window as if weighing whether or not to escape. I could feel the tension coming off her in waves.

“Hey, what’s going on?” I wondered if she’d lay into me like Alexa had about my spending time with Sable—but her demeanor, I suspected, indicated that wouldn’t be the case.

She set her glass down with a heavy sigh and finally met my gaze. “I heard about you and Sable.”

“Of course, you did.” I sighed and wished I’d declined her suggestion to meet for a drink because if she was going to call Sable trailer trash, I was going to lose it.

“I want to preface this by saying that I’m thrilled you’re with Sable. She’s good people.”

I arched an eyebrow.

She laughed, but it was hollow. “I know, Alexa must’ve painted a less-than-flattering picture for you.”

“I have been told I’m ruining your sister’s reputation.”

“More like hurting her ego by having the audacity to date when she’s been vying for a reconciliation.”

This was the second time someone had mentioned this to me, and I wasn’t happy about it. I had zero plans to ever be with Alexa again as anything other than a co-parent.

She licked her lips. “I want to tell you about Sable…what I know, that is, and why the town talks about her the way they do.”

“Okay.” I took a sip of bourbon.

“It’s mostly my fault. I treated Sable very, very, very badly in high school. See, Alexa was the top mean girl, and I was her sister, and even though I was a year behind her and Sable, I was the shit, at least I thought I was.”

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