by Darcy Burke
He made his way into the building, a converted mid-twentieth-century house with additional space added onto the back, eclipsing what must have been a very large backyard.
Their receptionist, Katie, smiled at him as he walked in. “Hi, Sean! How was Europe? Wait, you just came from Oregon.” She shook her head. “How was all of it?”
A crashing nightmare. “Fine, thanks. Is Mike free?”
“He’s on a call, but I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Thanks, I’ll be in my office.” He normally would’ve stayed to chat, especially after being gone for so long, but he was in a terrible mood despite a long night’s sleep in his own bed.
After leaving the monastery yesterday, he’d gone directly to the Archer’s garage apartment, gathered his things, and flown home. The fury brought on by Tori asking for a divorce had nearly obliterated the pulsing lust he’d felt for her just moments before. Nearly.
What made him angriest of all was the fact that she’d felt it, too, and yet she’d had the gall to say she’d been a fool to marry him. What a crock of shit. He was the fool for putting up with her crap for so long.
He walked into his office and froze. Empty boxes were stacked in the corner, taking up what little space he had that wasn’t occupied with a desk and pair of chairs. It was only slightly better than a glorified closet, but that was fine, since he didn’t spend a huge amount of time here. Still, the boxes seemed as though the writing was on the wall. Had they been staged to offer additional intimidation? That was absolutely something Dale would do, the git. And did Hollis’s office have empty boxes too?
He dropped into his chair and set his laptop case on the desk, then tossed his phone beside it.
“Hey,” Mike said, coming into his office. He went to one of the nondescript office chairs situated in front of the desk and sat down. “You’re back. Must mean good news.” He looked at Sean expectantly.
“It’s not bad news.”
Mike frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Sean flicked a glance toward the corner. “Why are there boxes in my office?”
Mike waved a hand. “You know how much our storage sucks. Just ignore them.”
He hadn’t really answered the question, but Sean knew better than to persist, especially when he was about to probably piss Mike off.
Sean took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “I need a little more time.”
Mike exhaled a sound of disappointment. “Take all the time you need, but your job might not be here when you’re done.” He set his elbow on the desk. “I don’t think you understand how critical this is. You aren’t going to get a second chance.”
“I do understand. I have an idea I wanted to run by you. I’m pretty sure Kyle Archer will agree to the show.”
Mike slapped his hand down flat on the desk as his mouth dropped open. “Pretty sure? You mean you don’t know? Has anyone committed?”
Sean ignored the question and forged ahead. “Kyle’s a world-class chef, and he’s renovating an old monastery church into a restaurant. Following the progress of the renovation and how he comes up with his menu would be a great limited-run show. I’m thinking eight or so episodes.”
Mike stared at him like he’d grown horns. “Yeah, sure, I guess. It’s not a bad idea, but it’s not what Dale wants. And if Dale doesn’t get what he wants . . . ” He arched his brows and looked off to the side.
Yes, if Dale didn’t get what he wanted, everything went to hell in a handbasket. “I’m still working on the show he wants. In the meantime, can I at least pitch this to him?”
Mike shook his head. “He’s in Belize. I’ll run it by him. This additional project might score you some points. For whatever reason, he’s got a total hard-on for this Archer family bullshit.”
Sean wanted to call him out for referring to his wife’s family—his family, he supposed—as bullshit, but they were barely his family and likely wouldn’t be much longer.
“But, Sean, if I pitch him this idea too and then none of this comes to fruition, you are worse than screwed. As it is, if you get knocked out by Hollis and her project, Dale will give you a good recommendation. Fuck it up completely, and you’re on your own.”
Sean swallowed. Dale was such a capricious dick. Sean had thought about looking for a new job last year, but then the Europe gig had come up, and he’d been immersed in that. Maybe it was time to dust off his résumé, but hell, this town was smaller than the village he’d grown up in when it came to the spread of information. Dale would find out he was looking for a job and can his arse faster than he could say piss off.
“I get it,” Sean said, his insides curling with anxiety.
“So what’s the plan? Why are you here if you have people to persuade to do a show?”
“I’ll be going back up soon, but I had stuff to do.”
“What the hell could be more important than saving your job?” Mike’s phone chimed. He pulled it from his back pocket and read the screen. “God fucking damn it. Can’t anyone do anything right today?” He stood up and tapped at his phone, then put it to his ear. Turning, he left Sean’s office without a backward glance.
“Thanks. Good talk.” Sean got up and closed his door. He looked around his crappy little office and, for the first time in his two years at the company, felt utterly defeated. What had once been a promising step along the path to having his own company one day was now a torturous hell. Unfortunately, it was a hell he needed.
As if to remind him of that fact, his phone vibrated against the desk. He peered at the screen and saw it was his dad. He’d e-mailed his parents the other day, explaining that he was taking off for work again and would call them soon.
He slid his finger across the screen and put him on speaker phone. “Hi, Dad. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to call.”
“We wondered. Everything all right?”
“Everything’s great.” He hoped he sounded convincing. Best to just redirect the conversation. “Are you in Scotland?”
“Not yet. Leaving tomorrow.”
“I had a twenty-five-year Bunnahabhain the other night.” Sean didn’t bother hiding the wistful tone in his voice. In fact, he probably amplified it for his father’s appreciation.
Dad let out a low whistle. “I’d have liked to toast that with you. How was it?”
“As good as you remember.”
Dad had received a bottle when he’d retired early. His arthritis had forced him to stop working sooner than he would’ve liked, but the plumbing company he’d worked for had sent him off in style.
“We’re going to visit eight distilleries on our trip. I wish you could come with us. Your mum’s heartbroken. When are we going to meet this wife of yours?”
Likely never. Sean’s heart twisted as he thought of his mother’s disappointment. Her only son married, and she’d not only missed the ceremony, she’d had no contact with her daughter-in-law. It was as if he’d never actually married anyone at all. “I don’t know, Dad. She’s been struggling since her brother died, and I’ve been gone. Honestly, it’s a bit like we’re strangers again.”
That was a good way to characterize it. Except for the kissing. They’d fallen back into that like they’d been made for each other. He’d remember the imprint of her mouth on his until the day he died.
“That’s too bad, Sean. You’ll work on it. Next year at this time, the four of us will do the Highlands tour together.” They did Lowlands one year and Highlands the next—this was a Lowlands year. “And I’ll have both new hips by then. Ah, I can hardly wait.”
Sean heard his father’s smile in his voice and felt a pang of distress. If Sean lost his job, Dad might not get his second hip surgery before next year. Or even two years from now. He was scheduled to have his first operation in just three weeks, and he could scarcely wait to feel better.
“Does Mum want to talk to me?” Sean asked.
“Nah, she’s watching her program. She sends her love, though. We’ll ca
ll you when we get back.”
“Please do. Have a great time, and be safe.”
“Take care, Sean.”
Sean ended the call and rested his forehead against his desktop. What a bloody clusterfuck. He couldn’t lose his job. Not now. He had to find a way to convince everyone to do this damned show. And now he had to persuade Kyle to do the other show, too. Sean was afraid he’d just dug his hole even deeper.
A sharp knock on his door made him look up from the desk, though he didn’t sit up.
Hollis cracked the door and poked her head inside. “Oh!” Her loose, blonde curls framed her young, spray-tanned face. “Am I interrupting your nap?” She pursed her lips. “It’s kind of early, isn’t it?”
He sat up and straightened his shirt. “I wasn’t sleeping. What’s up?”
She opened the door wider and bounced inside. “Just saying hi! You’ve been gone so long I almost forgot what you looked like! Dale and I were just making that joke the other day at lunch.”
Yes, you and Dale had lunch together. I’m sure what really happened is that Dale was eating in his office, barked for you to come in so that he could shout a few expletives in your general direction, and then sent you on your way.
“Uh-huh.” Sean tapped his fingers against the desk. He cut right to the reason for her annoying visit—why bother with small talk? “How’s your show coming? Shouldn’t you be in Nashville?”
“Oh, I was.” She fluffed her hair. “They’re discussing things, but it’s pretty much a done deal.” She winced. “Sorry. That’s a bummer for you.”
“Yeah, well, until it is a done deal, I’m still in the game, right?” He offered a condescending smile. “I’ve just pitched another idea that Dale’s going to love. And it goes hand in hand with the other special he wants. I wouldn’t get too complacent if I were you.” He leaned forward and darted a glance toward the empty boxes in his corner. “How many did they stack in your office?”
She paled a bit beneath her vaguely orange glow. “Why aren’t you in Seattle?”
“It’s Oregon, actually, not Washington.” He tried to quash a smirk but was completely unsuccessful. She was annoying as all hell, but he was better than that, wasn’t he? He pulled his expression together and gave her a pleasant smile. “I’ll be heading back up to Ribbon Ridge in a few days. Like you, my people are mulling things over.” Though likely not about what he wanted them to.
“Well, good luck!” She tried to smile at him in return, but the frustration in her eyes ruined the effect, instead making her look pained or constipated. She spun on her heel and left without shutting the door completely behind her.
Brilliant.
He ought to be on the next plane to Portland, but he didn’t think that was wise. Tori needed some time to think about things. And he sure as hell needed time to get over his crushing desire to shake some sense into her. The show wouldn’t be a bad thing. In fact, if she did it, maybe he’d give her the frigging divorce—a fair exchange.
He froze, his eyes fixed on the empty, intimidating boxes. Why not? He was a good negotiator. He’d give her what she wanted, and she’d give him what he wanted. Win-win.
It was risky. He could end up pissing her off even more than he already had. Or, he’d get exactly what he needed, though he’d also get a divorce. Too bad he didn’t really want that at all.
TORI PULLED HER gaze from the gray sky outside the window of the work trailer. After a week of stunning fall weather, today had dawned dark and dull. Everyone blamed her for bringing the threat of rain back with her from San Francisco, where it had been pouring like crazy.
She tried to focus on the plans in front of her—she still had so much to do for phase three. Assuming they even got to phase three. If this zoning appeal went through, the entire project was screwed. Aubrey had assured her that wouldn’t happen.
Tori’s real job was also taking up space in her head. Her boss had been great about letting her cut projects back so that she could focus on this with her family. However, now that he understood the depth of the work, he wished they’d just outright hired her firm. In a nutshell, he wanted the revenue, especially to compensate for her being gone so much. She’d tried to explain that even though she wasn’t in San Francisco full time, she’d still done what amounted to full-time work, at least since May. She had no social life. She worked at the monastery, she worked for the firm, she ran, and that was pretty much it. In short, her life was a grind—a tedious, exhausting grind. For some reason, she hadn’t even noticed until now.
Until Sean had come back into her life and reminded her of how things had been before Alex had died. And Sean was taking up the most space in her head.
She groaned and massaged her forehead. She thought of him almost constantly, told herself to contact a divorce attorney, but she’d been busy. Which was a lousy excuse, because she was always busy. Knock it off.
Clenching her jaw, she picked up her phone and dialed Aubrey Tallinger. She didn’t do family law, but she’d be able to refer Tori to someone.
The receptionist at her small law firm answered and put Tori straight through to Aubrey.
“Hey,” Aubrey said, “I was just about to call you.”
Tori leaned back in her chair and braced herself—Aubrey hadn’t been the bearer of good news this week. “What’s up?”
“I wish I didn’t have to call you . . . ” Uh-oh. “I just got a notice from the county. You’ve been fined for holding Derek’s wedding before the commercial zoning variance was approved.”
Tori shot forward in her chair and leaned her elbows on her desk. “What? Why?”
“You held a commercial event at the location before the zoning change had taken effect.”
“It wasn’t a commercial event! It was our brother’s wedding.”
“But you hired vendors, executed contracts that took place at the property, right?” Aubrey asked, her voice remaining cool and calm while Tori’s blood pressure was spiking.
Tori thought back. She wasn’t sure. It hadn’t been her wedding, after all. In fact, she’d participated in it as little as possible, as it had only reminded her of her own wedding—such as it was. “I don’t know. Oh shit. Wait. We had a caterer.” If only Derek and Kyle, who’d been best friends for years before having a huge falling out, had made up soon enough, Kyle would’ve done the food. As it was, they’d hired someone. They’d also hired a florist, she was pretty sure, and really, who knew what else? “And a florist, I think. I’ll have to talk to Derek and Chloe.”
“It’s okay, I’ll call him,” Aubrey said.
“How much is the fine?”
“Five thousand dollars.”
“Yikes! That’s ridiculous.” She didn’t want to pay it, but at least they could pay it.
“And I’ll be honest, it doesn’t necessarily look good for the appeal—you guys holding events there before things were approved.”
“That’s total crap. It’s not like we hired the space out—Derek is family.”
“Sure, but not legally,” Aubrey said. “Listen, don’t get too worked up. Let me get some details from Derek, and I’ll see what I can do to make this go away.”
Tori massaged her forehead again, feeling more stressed than she had five minutes ago, which was saying something. “You can do that?”
“I can do lots of things.”
Tori heard the smile in her voice and relaxed. “Okay, thanks.”
“So what can I do for you?” Aubrey asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You called me.”
Right. About a divorce attorney. The words stalled on Tori’s tongue. “I wanted to ask about my letter from Alex.” Where had that come from? Another crowded portion of her mind. She’d been wanting that letter for months, and with Sean back in the picture, everything about Alex’s death, especially his unanswered phone call, had been brought back into focus. “Is there any chance I’m going to get it soon?”
“I really can’t say.” Aubrey’s a
nswer was tentative, measured. “Not because I don’t want to.” She sighed. “Sometimes I’m so frustrated that he designated me to do this. It puts me in such an awful position, especially when I like all of you so much.”
Alex had chosen Aubrey for a reason. He’d trusted her with something incredibly important, maybe the most important thing of his life. “You should feel privileged to do this for him.” Tori inwardly cringed at how that sounded. Privileged?
Aubrey didn’t immediately respond. “I liked your brother very much. But I hope you understand that I feel bad about not being able to give you what you want.”
Because Alex had set this all up. Alex was the one torturing her with not knowing. Tori felt a burst of anger toward him, something she hadn’t experienced before. Liam was the one who was pissed, the one who held Alex responsible. And she defended him every time.
“I do understand,” Tori said quietly. “Alex had a disease—not with his lungs, but with his mind.”
Dad had finally shared the truth with them a few months ago: His father hadn’t died in a hunting accident as they’d all thought. Their grandfather had been severely depressed and killed himself, and their grandmother had insisted they cover it up. It certainly seemed as though Alex had inherited the same sort of depression, and it had only been exacerbated by his respiratory illness.
“You’re right,” Aubrey said. “It’s good to remember that. Thanks for understanding. I know it’s hard. I do have your letter, and you’ll get it in time.”
Tori wanted to tell her about Alex’s phone call, but she hadn’t told anyone other than Sara. That had been painful enough. She wasn’t sure she could go there again. “Thanks. Keep me posted about the fine.”
“Will do.”
They ended the call, and Tori decided she couldn’t stand the cramped trailer another moment. She gathered up some papers and dumped them into a bag with her laptop. Then she went out to her car and drove home.
It was lunchtime, but she wasn’t really hungry. She could always, however, go for coffee, so she beelined for the kitchen. Dad was at the counter eating a sandwich.