His handsome, lying face.

Gracie stumbled and rammed her hip into a chair, bumping it so hard against the table, the glasses on it wobbled. Her face flamed. “Sorry,” she mumbled to the cowboy, but from the corner of her eye, she saw Andrew Freeman’s head jerk up, felt his gaze on her.

The cowboy motioned for her to join him by the large window overlooking the front lawn. She went gratefully. It was better to have that bit of distance between her and where Andrew embraced the beautiful girl.

Better, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

“Couldn’t you find her?” the cowboy asked.

Gracie pursed her lips. He didn’t seem angry. More like he couldn’t understand why she hadn’t done what he’d wanted her to do. Ivy’s words about him being willing to pay to get his way floated through Gracie’s head. Yes, he was nice. And no, he wasn’t yelling at her—like some other guests might have done. But he was obviously used to getting his way.

Maybe Ivy had been right to keep her distance.

“I found her,” Gracie admitted. “I told her you wanted to speak with her, but she declined.”

He raised his eyebrows as if that was a turn of events he’d never expected. “Excuse me?”

“She declined. It means to politely refuse an invitation. But that’s just in this case. Decline could also mean to become smaller or a gradual loss of strength, numbers, qual—”

“I know what decline means,” he said, exasperation edging his tone.

She got that a lot.

“You looked totally confused, so I wasn’t sure.”

He rubbed his forehead, bumping the edge of his hat. “Did you tell her I wanted to see her?”

Hadn’t she just said that? “Yes. I was very specific. She said you weren’t used to being turned down. That this would be a good life lesson for you. So here—” Gracie held out the money. “You can have this back.”

He flicked his gaze from her hand to her face. “That’s yours.”

“But I didn’t earn it. And it doesn’t feel right, keeping it. Plus, now that I’ve had time to think about it—” and time to let the excitement of that much money fade “—I realize it’s sort of icky, a middle-aged man—”

“Middle-aged?” He looked pained. “I need another drink.”

“Giving a teenage girl that much cash. I mean, you don’t look like the kind of guy who’d try to bribe young girls to do, well, things—if you know what I mean...”

He shut his eyes. “I wish like hell I didn’t.”

“But then, everyone said Ted Bundy didn’t look like a psycho serial killer, either, so I think it’s best if I just give it back. Trust me,” she continued when he just stood there. “It’s better this way. For both of us.”

He finally took the cash, and she hurriedly turned away before he decided he was willing to double or triple his offer. She loved Ivy, but Gracie was only human. And if the price were right, she just might be tempted to drag Ivy over here by her hair.

“Hey, Gracie,” Andrew said, having disentangled himself from the blonde. “How’s it going?”

Gracie pulled up short. Darn it. Why had Andrew approached her? Why was he talking to her?

She wanted to hate him for giving her that lopsided grin of his, especially after bestowing the same smile on another girl not two minutes ago. Wanted to hit him for looking nervous, as if he was scared she was going to start ragging on him. Or worse, ignore him.

She wished she could. But that would make him think he still had the power to hurt her. That she still cared about him.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, shooting for cool and polite but coming across as uptight and possibly deranged. She tried to work up a smile but figured it would only make things worse. “How are you?”

“Uh, fine. Good. Really good.” Andrew cleared his throat, flipped his head to get his stupid floppy dark hair out of his eyes. “I, uh, didn’t know you worked here.”

Why would he? It wasn’t as if they’d had long, involved chats about their lives. Or anything at all. They were neighbors. Not friends.

Even if she had naively believed otherwise not so very long ago.

“I started here a few months ago,” she told him.

“Cool. That’s...cool.”

Thick, uncomfortable silence surrounded them. Which was weird, since the party was still going on, the band still playing, people still talking and laughing.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis. He was wearing a dress shirt, too, a light blue one that brought out the color of his eyes. She tried to ignore how cute he looked, but she’d pretty much have to take after the cowboy and stick a couple of forks in her eyes for that.

“So, uh, are you doing anything for Spring Break?” he asked.

“No.”

“Oh. Me and my mom and Leo—uh, Coach Montesano. You know him, right?”

“Only by sight.” Which wasn’t a bad way to know the firefighter-slash-high-school-football-coach. He was one beautiful man. And Andrew’s mom, Penelope Denning, was dating him.

Lucky woman.

“Right. So, anyway, we’re going skiing in Colorado,” Andrew said. “Have you ever been?”

“The only places I’ve been are Pittsburgh and Erie.”

He shook his head. “I meant have you ever been skiing?”

“No.”

“It’s fun.” He took his hands out of his pockets. Put them back in again. “Maybe we could go together sometime. I could teach you.”

“Why would you want to do that? And why on earth would you think I’d ever agree to it?”

Color swept up his neck and into his cheeks. She refused to feel bad about it.

Not after what he’d done.

He shrugged. Dropped his gaze. “I thought maybe we could, you know...start hanging out again. Like before.”

She went cold all over, a deep freeze that chilled her to the bone. She couldn’t breathe through it, couldn’t move for fear that she’d shatter into a million pieces.

“You want to hang out?” she managed to say through stiff lips. “Like before? God, you must think I’m an idiot.”

She turned, but he caught her arm. “No! No,” he repeated, more softly this time as he glanced around. “Not like that. I just meant...you know. As friends.”

“I don’t want to be your friend.” Her voice was even. Dismissive. A miracle as there was a scream building inside her, one she was terrified would escape if she didn’t get away from him. “I thought I made that clear the last time we spoke.”

He flinched and dropped her arm. “Sorry. I thought...” He sighed. Ran his hand through his hair, leaving it all messy and, yes, sexy. “I thought maybe you’d have forgiven me by now.”

She clamped her teeth together to hold back the ugly words in her throat. She didn’t owe him anything. Refused to justify her feelings or explain her thoughts.

“Andrew,” the blonde girl called. “Come here. I want you to meet my uncle.”

He gestured he’d be a minute, then turned back to Gracie. “I, uh, guess I’ll see you in school.”

She didn’t respond. Just walked away.

Of course they’d see each other. She could hardly avoid it in a school the size of Shady Grove High, especially as they shared a few classes.

But she wouldn’t acknowledge him. Wouldn’t make eye contact or speak to him.

I thought maybe you’d have forgiven me by now.

Her fingers curled, her nails digging into her palms. She’d already forgiven him for pretending to like her, sleeping with her and then treating her like dirt. She’d had to. Hating him hadn’t made her feel better. Hadn’t stopped the pain or the tears that had come when she’d thought about how stupid she’d been. How gullible.

In the weeks after his betrayal, she’d spent countless hours imagining ways she could exact her revenge. Things she could do or say to humiliate him. To hurt him.

The way he’d hurt her.

But being angry at him had only given him even more power over her—over her thoughts and feelings. So she’d forgiven him and moved on. But she hadn’t forgotten.

And she never would.