Page 80 of Against All Odds

For a moment, we stared at each other…deer caught in each other’s headlights. Then he smiled—a small, tentative gesture. I smiled back.

“Hey.” He came closer.

I clutched the bottle of Dreamy. “Hey.”

There was an awkward pause as we waited for something…anythingto happen.

“Ah…thank you,” I broke the silence.

He tilted his head.

“For sending half of Aspen’s tourists to the Wildflower last night.”

His smile turned sheepish. “Iwantto help.

“You have helped.” I surprised myself with the softness in my tone. For all my bravado about not being able to forgive or forget—I was also having trouble forgetting the man who cooked me dinner and tried to teach me to ski. “Thank you.”

He nodded, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Your business was in trouble because of me and?—”

“It was not you,” I cut him off.

“Your tavern is struggling because you’re inexperienced. You don’t know what you’re doing, and instead of fixing it, you’re blaming everyone else. Do you think this is Alexa’s fault? No, Sable. This is on you.”

“It was,” he continued smoothly. “I refused to believe Daniel or Alexa were involved. I had an inkling that Daniel might be….”

“You knew about…ah, the mayor?” He knew, and yet he blamed me. Yeah, so not forgetting or forgiving.

“He’d approached me earlier about…well, fixing my marriage. I thought he was sticking his foot in. I didn’t think he could do much damage. I was going to talk to him but…things….”

“You got busy.” I gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I was worrying like crazy, and you got too busy to ask your father-in-law if he was fucking with the tavern?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, not looking away. “I fucked up.”

“Ipaid for it.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Well, thank you for…ah…the tourists. But you don’t have to do anything more. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I do.” He stepped closer. I took a step away from him and ignored the pain that flashed in his eyes.

“I owe you an apology, Sable. I owe you more than that.”

I looked down, shaking my head. I didn’t know what to say. I felt like crying, and like hell I’d show him my tears. I didn’t trust Heath anymore. He’d taken what I’dtold him about the worst times in my life, and he’d used that to hurt me, and through no fault of my own.

“I made a mistake,” he continued, his voice softer now. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

Big of him, I thought sourly, but I didn’t bother to look up from re-reading the tiny print on the stupid bottle I was holding. It also contained magnesium and something called Tryptophan.

“I need you to know that I am so fucking sorry.”

When I was sure he was done talking, I raised my eyes back to him. The look in his eyes nearly undid me. There was so much there—regret, hope, and guilt. Loads and loads of guilt.

“Okay, Heath. Thank you for….”What? Saying you’re sorry? How did that help me? How did that make me feel better?It did not.

“Sable, if you ever need me, just know that I’m there for you and?—”

I laughed without humor, cutting him off. “You think I’ll ever trust you again to ask you foranything?”

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