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  “You have time for a break?”

  With a weary smile, Xander rubbed his shoulder. “Perfect timing. I’d love one.”

  She locked the office door and hopped into the car beside him. “I’m working on a few job leads for you, but how about you take a break this afternoon and relax?”

  Xander dropped his head against the headrest, his eyes drifting shut. “Relaxing doesn’t bring in money. I can’t live off of your generosity much longer.”

  “Tell your ego to be patient.” Gia touched his arm until he cracked both eyelids. The warmth of his gaze started at her hand and tracked up to her eyes. What was going on inside that dangerously good-looking head of his? “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. Don’t rush the process. Things take time to fall into place when you’re starting fresh.”

  He grunted.

  “What is your specialty? What did you do before you warmed a bench in Golden, thanks to Tucker?”

  “I was an assistant soccer coach for Colorado University.” He paused and glanced at her. She nodded so he would continue. “Everything about my life was related to sports—my degree, my job, my network. It’s all I’ve known, but I’m blacklisted from that industry currently.”

  Her conscience had fought and won over her curiosity that first day when she was tempted to check his background. In an act of sheer willpower, she had exited the browser. She hadn’t searched his name once to see if it was his real one. She owed him nothing, but desired his trust someday. Sneaking around never accomplished that. Hopefully, he’d granted her the same courtesy.

  She parked outside a burrito joint, turned off the car, and got out before Xander had even moved.

  “Burritos Mexicanos Reales. I love this place. We used to come here after soccer games in high school. Their carne asada is unreal.”

  In a heartbeat, he was out of the car, holding the restaurant door open for her. They ordered at the counter and waited for their burritos to be delivered. Xander put up a fight about paying, but when Gia insisted it was her treat for all his hard work. He allowed it though his closed expression brooked no friendly conversation from her. “You didn’t have to pay. I could have gotten it.”

  Gia released a slow breath, her patience waning despite his damaged ego. “It was nice of you to offer, Xander, but how much money do you have to your name right now?”

  “That’s not a polite question to ask, Gia.”

  “Level with me.” She propped her elbows on the table and returned his glare. “I’m trying to help you find a job, and I’m letting you stay at my place. If you’re a millionaire, then I’m going to start charging rent for my luxury apartment, and I’ll let you buy me a fancy steak dinner.”

  He shook his head. “And if I’m not?”

  “Then let me be the rock where you find your footing. Everyone needs a push-off point.”

  Xander said nothing. Each time she offered he resisted, which made her more inclined to offer it. Beggars could learn a thing or two from this self-made man.

  “Two hundred and forty-six dollars,” he said. His muttered follow-up remark included something about six dollar running shoes, but she didn’t catch it all. She schooled her features as if he hadn’t bared his soul. His lack of money brought his quick temper and obvious desperation for a job into perspective.

  The burritos arrived, saving her paralyzed tongue. Her fortune continued when he bit into his carne asada and groaned. Better not to ruin the moment with money talk. Ma swore that two common things would distract a man without fail: one was good food and the other she’d refused to tell Gia until she was an adult. By then, Gia figured it out on her own.

  Gia shelved the conversation in favor of keeping the peace. Xander didn’t seem like the kind of man who would let his pride marinate in others’ pity. The more he shared, the more complicated his mystery became. His fall from grace must have been epic.

  They finished their meal with few words spoken and took their horchatas to go. A full stomach loosened Xander’s captive storyteller, and his sulking vanished. Stories of his high school mischief kept her enthralled as she drove twenty minutes to a construction site on the edge of Idledale. His childhood as the oldest son of two teachers sharply contrasted her childhood as the only heir to the Carter-Ferra kingdom. They were as different as wooden clapboard from adobe brick: both materials provided beauty in their own right, but their substances tolerated different kinds of adversity.

  Buried in a sea of trees, the road leading to the construction site was little more than a bone-jarring path bared by the recent aggression of spinning rubber and metal. In a matter of weeks, the path would mature into compact gravel. From there, a road would form that provided identity to the homes that bordered it. The beginning stages of creative design was a gift Gia treasured like a cool mountain breeze in stale summer, but seeing the finished product of her design infused life into her bones. Regardless of the pain experienced from beginning to end, she’d never escape the high creating gave her.

  At the construction site, her heart plunged into her stomach with one glance at the equipment parked around the perimeter. She jumped out of her car before she turned it off. Storming the makeshift overseer pavilion, she planted herself in front of Johnnie the head contractor and Shaun the building team leader who stood sipping their coffee like they were having a leisurely break at the Mother Hen.

  “What is happening? Why isn’t the foundation poured yet? You were supposed to start framing today. Why is nothing done?” Despite her five-four height, both taller men shifted backward an inch or two. Small still packed a solid punch.

  Johnnie lifted his hands in surrender. “Hold your fire, mighty pistol. Our reputations are stuffed in the same dynamite hole yours is. We’re meeting the building permit stick-in-the-mud in about fifteen minutes.”

  The men’s attention focused behind her as gravel crunched under Xander’s shoes. She didn’t have time for their curiosity. “Johnnie, we had the permits settled weeks ago. What’s the setback?”

  Shaun spread his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. He had no idea how ridiculous he looked, but he did it every time he had something to say. She wasn’t in the mood for the drawling monologue she was sure would come in his next breath. Cocking her head at Johnnie, her lips drew tight. He blinked twice and jumped in.

  “Well, you see, that whine-a-minute environmental group somehow got hold of the material list—”

  “I think it was someone on the inside playing favorites with the lobbyists.” Shaun scowled as his prepared speech tried to claw its way out of his brain.

  “Anyway, the short version is that the overbearing government rep is making a rare once-in-a-millennia mandated visit to the site so as to ‘understand fully the demands a project this size may have on the ecosystem.’ You’d think the man was the love child of Willy Wonka and the Queen of England with the way his secretary informed us of his special visit.”

  Gia huffed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the lobbyist group also managed to get their grubby paws on the homes’ recipient list and are stalling this project based on the origin of the homes’ new owners.”

  “Discrimination? Naw, not out here in Call-a-rad-ho.” Shaun chuckled at his own joke and backhanded Johnnie’s arm.

  Johnnie forced a smiled apology to Gia. “The permit delay is going to extend our timeline by a week or two depending on what new eco-friendly materials we need to source from California or wherever the forest fairies make their magic.”

  Gia smoothed her hair. “This is a nightmare. The timeline was already cutting it close.” It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her issue, but she’d suffer for it.

  “Maybe I can help,” Xander said. “A colleague of mine had a similar issue during the rebuild of the Broncos’ stadium. Maybe he could point us in the right direction.”

  His voice made her flinch. In her panic, she’d forgotten he was there. Listening. To everything. At this point, she’d take any suggestions before she had to s
tart making smoke signals with her carefully crafted career of choice.

  “Would you mind, Xander? Anything you can recommend would be fantastic.” She pressed her palms into her eyes, willing moisture to ease the scratchiness. Not staying to listen, she picked her way through the gravel to her car, popped the hatch, and sank on to the bumper slipping her feet from her heels. Lately, each project she was involved in had issues, and not small ones either. Most of her clients were understanding, but if anyone was keeping track, they’d think she was bad luck’s pinata. Pretty soon she would be everyone’s last choice.

  Uncle Angelo had willed her the non-profit arm of his firm, but it was long before the intended time. She shouldn’t have gotten it for another twenty years. With relentless tears, she’d questioned his wisdom posthumously. What was he thinking handing a popular and profitable branch of his business to an immature twenty-three year old? Didn’t he know she’d probably tank the whole thing with one ill-advised choice? That’s how he’d died. Who was to say the memory of him and his beloved gift to her wouldn’t meet the same demise?

  She couldn’t bear the crushing weight if it unraveled in her hands. Not because of her reputation, but because of his and the good he’d never failed to see in others. Maybe Xander’s offer to help would give her an edge and finally grant Uncle Angelo’s name the recognition it deserved. Or maybe he would be the gentle breeze that would bring the whole thing down on top of her.

  Chapter 5

  A knot formed in Xander’s abdomen. Gia had transformed into a stone-cold wall after her site visit and now answered him in monosyllables. She dropped him at her office and left with a promise to return in a few hours. Screaming or tears provided a litmus for her mood and he could work with that. Steely silence offered him nothing. Women coped in ways foreign to him.

  As soon as she left, Xander scoured the internet for his buddy Brayden’s contact information, but didn’t find any details. So he did the research on material alternates for the list Johnnie had given him himself. His coaching degree may not have left him with good employment options outside of sports, but he knew how to dig deep when desperation took hold. And he was desperate to earn his keep at Gia’s.

  He priced out the list of eco-friendly materials Johnnie needed and emailed it over to him. With that finished, he happened on a couple of websites that listed jobs for felons. Roping in his ego, he chatted live with a state-sponsored career guidance counselor while Andrea’s business card burned a hole in his slim wallet. Maybe she could actually help him discreetly.

  Six years ago, the media had spouted more hearsay than fact and—as his lawyer had cautioned—the court rarely granted mercy when “kids” were the victims. In hindsight, he never had a chance. If the roles had been reversed and he sat on the jury instead of in the defendant’s chair, he probably wouldn’t have believed the innocent plea either. Xander might have been spared if only he’d been able to prove he’d been set up.

  “The players trusted him. Parents trusted him,” one of the players’ parents said, soft-spoken yet venom-filled the day of his sentencing.

  Her words haunted him. After putting the betrayal and fury to bed in the first year of prison, guilt had eaten at Xander until panic attacks gained control. Someone somehow had stashed packages of steroids, loaded syringes, containers, shipping labels, and an envelope stuffed with cash in the false bottom of his locked desk at work. At his trial, athletes testified that they’d heard talk that if they wanted to get hooked up with any extras, that he was the guy to ask.

  Except no one ever had approached him about it. He’d never sold anything to anyone, especially not syringes. Needles gave him hives. But that didn’t matter because most of his soccer team tested positive for steroids thanks to the doses they’d received in their drinks.

  His internet search offered no pointers to who had benefited most from his lock-up. The experts that the newscasters had interviewed suggested someone else at the university had to have proof of sales, but no source offered anything more than speculation.

  Detectives explored every option, searching for more witnesses to the crimes that might prove he’d been setup. Of course, they came up empty-handed and quickly abandoned that theory as a waste of time. Hunger for justice fueled an inferno in Xander no fact-finding mission could match. He’d rehashed the events and evidence with his cell-mate Jerry, agreeing the story reeked of a setup. Someone planned to put Xander away. The offender had to be obvious.

  Slouched in front of the computer in Gia’s office, Xander searched each name on his well-rehearsed list of potential enemies, however petty, he’d made in his short stint in the university’s soccer department. Nothing stuck out to him. He opened a new tab and typed “coaches and steroids” into the search box. An unfamiliar news source on the second page noted a huge rise of illegal steroid use in the college athletics world. The Collegiate Athletic Oversight Association had developed an entirely new division that specialized in investigating and testing athletes, especially from Division 1 schools. The higher the stakes, the more likely there was to be foul-play, the source said.

  Xander needed a new angle, but his homelessness and joblessness took precedence.

  With no place left to turn, he had to take Andrea up on her offer. Pulling her business card from his wallet, Xander punched her numbers into the office phone and stretched against the back of the chair as he listened to the ringing. At her soft hello, he straightened his posture.

  “Andrea, it’s Xander Reinerman.”

  “I was hoping you’d call.” A smile brightened her words. “How can I help?”

  “I want to know everything there is to know about my mom’s mental breakdown. What doctor did she see? What facility did they take her to? What was her diagnosis?” He continued before she could negate him. “I know that’s all confidential patient-client stuff. I get it.” He smoothed his hand over his stubble. No reason to stop now. “But in my mind, my imprisonment and her breakdown are related. My parents won’t answer my calls, and I’m not sure anyone in my family will give me straight answers.” A sigh escaped his lips as the weariness tore at his soul. “The truth is all I need, Andrea. Please.”

  Papers rustled in the background as Andrea paused. “I’ll do my best, Xander. Give me a few days to call my contacts and I’ll pass along whatever I find. Off record, Xander.”

  Xander thanked her and hung up. People changed after high school and matured, but the same kind-hearted, loyal Andrea from high school had handed him her card that day. She would keep her word, because that’s who she was. Who was he to her? A criminal? A pity case?

  The next number he dialed was his lawyer’s office. The receptionist transferred him immediately.

  “Alex, how’s everything been since your release?” Quinn said.

  All the words Xander longed to vent ran through his mind, but none were appropriate. “Challenging,” he finally managed. “Quinn, have you heard from Lincoln recently?”

  “Sure, I saw him at Ultimate Frisbee last weekend. Why?” Although short and stocky, Quinn could run circles around the gangly Goliaths who usually claimed Ultimate trophies. Xander had seen him do it many times, because usually Xander was on the field with him.

  “I’d like to talk to him in person, but I don’t know his number or his address.”

  “Email him.”

  Why had he called Quinn again? “There’s been no contact between me and my parents, Lincoln, Kelsey, or Avri since my sentencing date. I don’t know if I can risk it without first testing the waters to see how they really feel about me.”

  “Have you attempted an email to your sisters yet?” Click click click. When he asked personal questions, Quinn had a habit of tapping his expensive fountain-pen-of-the-day against his mahogany desk. The price of one of Quinn’s pens would feed Xander for a month. A chunk of that money used to be Xander’s. Thousands of dollars for the smallest chance of freedom—wasted in the end.

  “Not yet. I’d like the first contact to be som
ething they can’t say went to spam. Unfortunately, I only remember my parents’ number by heart. As far as I know, Avri has graduated from college by now, Kelsey lives in Colorado Springs still married to Doug, and Lincoln plays hockey. All of that could have changed. So, please, will you arrange lunch with me and Lincoln?” Otherwise, he might just show up at his brother’s ice rink and hope to catch him.

  “We’ve talked about you since the trial. He’ll probably be fine with seeing you.”

  Quinn’s admission sent a flame of hope through Xander that he dared not encourage. “You’ll set it up for me?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  One thing Xander counted on, the simplest tasks were often the hardest to do. Regardless, he gave Quinn his new mobile phone number and told him about his job possibilities. In return, Quinn told Xander about his new house and their third child being born. He was five minutes into bemoaning the corruption of Colorado’s latest Attorney General when the bells on the front door smacked the glass. Lucy stormed into the office, her hair frazzled and her expression bewildered.

  “Quinn, I’ll talk to you later. Thanks again for arranging lunch.” He didn’t wait for Quinn’s reply before hanging up the phone and standing. “Hi, Lucy. Everything okay?”

  Lucy scowled. “No, everything is not okay. Do people normally look like this when everything is okay?” He studied her appearance for singe marks or broken bones, but saw nothing worth noting besides her deep frown lines. His self-preservation instincts ordered him to keep that to himself as Lucy appeared on the verge of tears. “What happened?”

  She shoved a newspaper at him and smoothed her hair into a fresh ponytail. Xander unfolded the crumpled paper and scanned for a significant topic. A headline halfway down the front page read,

  “Local Nonprofit Architect Tied to US Import-Export Royalty”

  Giovanna Carter, only daughter of Burley Carter and Sophia Ferra, came to Golden three years ago bringing her nonprofit architecture firm, GC Architecture (formerly run under Angelo Ferra’s award-winning, internationally acclaimed architecture firm, Ferra Architecture International) with her. Hailing from New Orleans, Gia ditched her duties as heiress of the import-export empire in favor of small-town life outside of Denver. Her parents’ multi-million-dollar corporation has been seeing enormous financial growth on Wall Street the past few years. In addition to controlling a huge portion of importing and exporting, the Carters also own a wide range of other companies in a variety of markets including popular athleticwear lines Invicto and Invicta, pharmaceutical giant Salguod, private transportation company GetThere, and hotel chain Venha Hotel and Suites. This leaves Golden residents wondering why the heiress abruptly moved to Golden when her family is so well connected in NOLA? Was there a generous pay-day? Side benefits from the government offered for her business? All the possibilities are awash in politics. GC Architecture won the highly desired contract to design houses for Iraqi refugees and has won nine additional contracts from the governor’s office for future building projects in the last week…”