Joyfully His(Sterling Canyon Book 4)(2)

When she got promoted a few years later, he’d been doubly glad he hadn’t crossed the line, despite having finally taken notice of her Angelina Jolie lips and throaty laugh.

He’d been young and dumb, and then a convict with nothing to offer anyone, let alone Nikki. Now that he was mature enough to really appreciate her, it was too late. He’d be an idiot to risk screwing up his one chance at getting his old job back by making a pass at her. With no college degree and a dearth of other job opportunities, his earning her trust took priority over lust.

“I will when I’m ready.” He playfully pushed her back. “Don’t mother me, Ave.”

“Sorry. I just know how much you want your life back.” She sipped her sparkling cider. “No time like the present.”

They were twins, but opposites in nearly every way. She’d been the straight-A student, while he’d focused on sports. She was ambitious and organized; he flew by the seat of his pants. She completed her to-do list every day; he never saw much point in a to-do list.

Grey wrapped an arm around Avery’s shoulder and squeezed her, then shot Andy a sympathetic look. “Sometimes it’s easier to give in. Of course, you know that already.”

“Hey.” His sister frowned at her husband, then shooed Andy away. “Go on. You’re overdue for a Christmas miracle.”

Miracle was about right. He couldn’t admit to her that as long as he didn’t ask Nikki to rehire him, he could hold out for hope. If Nik turned him down flat tonight, it would not only ruin the party for him but pretty much ruin his winter.

“Remind me why I love you?” he asked.

“Because we’re two halves of a whole.” She patted his cheek. “Now quit stalling.”

He inhaled, knowing that he couldn’t put it off forever. On the plus side, he wouldn’t mind spending time getting reacquainted with Nikki tonight. “Wish me luck.”





Chapter Two


Nikki wanted nothing more than to find the nearest seat. Her arches hurt, and her cramped toes had lost all circulation thanks to being shoved into the open-toe cutouts at the tips of her sister Amy’s too-small shoes.

What kind of fool wears strappy, sparkling heels—stilts—to a wedding? She hated heels, but Amy had forced her to buy a whole new outfit, demanding she “gussy up” for the night.

Amy viewed any wedding as ideal boyfriend-hunting grounds and complained that it was past time both Steele sisters found a man. Nikki didn’t want to acknowledge the long-shot hope of why she’d been willing to go along with Amy’s advice, and so far hadn’t worked up the courage to do anything about it. Now she towered over all the women and half the men, like an Amazonian Smurf. She couldn’t feel more self-conscious if she were naked and singing karaoke.

The worst part—she’d known better. Tight, revealing clothes had never made her feel sexy or fit in.

Not that fitting in had ever been her thing. Most of the time she didn’t care. Most of the time she liked the fact that she could pound a beer, race down a double black, and hike to the top of The Cirque as well as, if not better than, any guy in town. None of the more traditional, pretty girls in town had her rare talents. But on days like this, when she watched yet another friend—a more feminine, dainty woman—walk down the aisle toward a man who was obviously in love, she couldn’t help but acknowledge a twinge of envy. A tiny, silly, yet heartfelt wish to fit in and find love.

Oh, God. Sappiness meant she’d had too much booze.

She hobbled to the nearest dining chair and plopped herself down and leaned back, letting her legs splay slightly. Sweet lord, what a flippin’ relief.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Andy Randall across the room. Such a hottie with his long, lean body, sandy waves of hair, friendly green eyes, and friendlier smile. The sweet talker had perfected that combo of boy-next-door charm and sex appeal back in seventh grade. She’d been a year ahead of him in school, but he’d been her middle school crush. Even now, her heart still beat a little faster at the sight of him. Stupid heart.

Of course, Shana Willis was now throwing herself at him—quite literally, based on the way her boobs grazed his chest. Andy peeked down at Shana’s cleavage, too. Who could blame him? Those double Ds were hard to ignore.

Andy looked up and caught Nikki watching him. Crap. Surely her face had turned as red as Rudolph’s nose. Busted, she nodded with a smile.

He winked at her, then pried Shana’s hands off his chest and started toward her.

Winking. How like him to be flirty and cute. Befitting a man with his even temperament and touch of sweetness. She hadn’t seen him in a while, and yet he stirred up all these feelings she couldn’t express—being shot down once had been enough. There’d been times since then when Andy’s behavior made her wonder if he’d started to see her as more than a friend. But absent a declaration by megaphone on his part, she’d ruthlessly bury her own feelings before she’d ever humiliate herself again.

“Hey!” She forced a bright smile but didn’t stand. Standing would make her cry because her swollen toes were never fitting back into those little cutout holes.

“Nikki.” He leaned down to give her a quick kiss—more of a peck—on the cheek, then gestured toward the empty chair on her left. “Is this seat taken?”

“Not at the moment.” She wished he’d sat to her right so her scar wouldn’t be front and center in his line of sight.

He glanced at the glass she was nervously twirling on the tabletop. “Vodka?”

“Tequila.”

His eyes widened. “Hitting the hard stuff already?”

“Helps me deal with all this.” She swept her hand along her skimpy dress, then shifted in her seat, feeling overexposed. Granted, she’d known he’d be here, and, subconsciously, a little part of her wanted him to see her as a woman. The masochistic part that apparently enjoyed humiliation.

He grinned again—that adorable, lopsided, sexy grin. Mimicking her gesture, he said, “All this looks pretty good, Nik.”

Her whole body probably turned the color of the holly berries scattered around the dining room.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

Now what? She could handle Andy when they were on the slopes or in the bar with the rest of the crew after a long day of lessons. But here at a wedding, surrounded by brides and love and romance and ooey-gooey music?

She slammed the tequila back, much to his surprise.

“Wow. Something I said?” He chuckled. The rich sound of his laughter flowed through her with more warmth than that shot.

“Sorry. Ignore me.” She leaned forward, determined to act like a normal person. “How’ve you been? We don’t see you at the old watering holes anymore.”

Oh, double crap. Why’d I bring that up? The last time they’d been at one, she’d left him there knowing he’d been too drunk to drive. They’d been playing darts and sort of flirting, until he’d wounded her pride and joined the other guys in their crew to do shots with a bachelorette party that’d wandered in. If she’d taken Andy’s keys instead of slinking off, that accident and his subsequent arrest wouldn’t have happened.

“Sobriety was part of my probation, you know.” He leaned back and stretched his long legs out. His foot was mere centimeters away from her damaged toes.

Rarely had she seen Andy look uncomfortable, and she didn’t particularly enjoy watching him squirm. In fact, she hated that her thoughtless question had caused him discomfort just as much as she hated that her insecurities had contributed to that awful night.

“Doesn’t matter,” he continued. “I haven’t been much in the mood to party. Nothing to celebrate this holiday season.”

She’d sort of avoided him since his arrest, largely because of her own sense of responsibility for the whole mess. But in for a penny, in for a pound tonight. “Don’t be a grinch. The end of probation is cause for celebration, isn’t it?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” He grinned, but this time it wasn’t genuine. In fact, he almost looked sad—to the extent a smiling person could look sad. “I may not need to report to my parole officer anymore, but my life’s nowhere near where I want it to be.”

“Whose is?” she teased.

He circled his hand in the air. “Emma’s. My sister’s. Kelsey’s. Yours.”

Hers? For the most part, maybe. Her family was healthy and happy. She enjoyed sharing an apartment with her sister. She loved her job, the town, and the many ways she entertained herself. It was pretty perfect . . . except for those last few minutes every night when she closed her eyes and rolled over in bed—alone.

“How will you fix it?” she asked.

He glanced down at the ground, but when he looked up and opened his mouth to answer, Amy appeared.

“Andy!” she squealed. Nikki didn’t know if her sister’s treacly voice actually appealed to men or if every guy put up with it because Amy was exquisitely pretty. Like Grace Kelly kind of pretty.

Amy fingered Andy’s tie. An intimate gesture, considering they were hardly more than friendly acquaintances. Amy was five years younger than he was, so they hadn’t even been schoolmates. “You should wear a tie more often. You look sharp.”