by Darcy Burke
“Hi, Dad.”
He swallowed. “Hi, Tori. Did you come home for lunch?”
“To work, actually. I’m just going to grab a cup of coffee.”
He nodded. “How’s it going? I haven’t been up to the site since last week.”
Tori set the coffeepot to brew. “Good. Everything’s on schedule, not that it matters if we can’t open when we want to.”
“Because of the zoning issue.” Dad’s gray eyes darkened. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll take Russ Parker down.”
“Yeah, well we also got slapped with a fine for holding Derek’s wedding before the variance was officially approved.”
Dad swore. “It wasn’t a commercial event. It was a private family wedding.”
“Except Derek isn’t legally family, is he?” Tori leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. “Aubrey’s looking into fighting it. It’s five thousand bucks.”
“I’m sure Russ was responsible.” Dad swore again. “I don’t get it. He moved out to McMinnville years ago, but he still owns a few plots of land in Ribbon Ridge that he’s doing nothing with. Now, out of the blue, he decides to start a pissing match with our family.”
“Isn’t it because of Mom?” Tori asked.
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Sure, but why now? She chose me over him years ago. He married someone else and had kids.”
“How’d that happen anyway? You stealing Mom away. Sounds terribly romantic.” She wanted to hear something nice, something happy.
Dad got a far-off look in his eyes and smiled. “Your mom was the best-looking girl at Williver. I’d had an eye on her for a year, but she’d always been with Russ. And he was such a jerk. His dad was on the board of directors at the college, so he played fast and loose with every rule. His fraternity pulled practical joke after practical joke, but they were never funny. I remember one of them broke some windows in one of the dorms. Some kids were reprimanded, but he wasn’t one of them.”
“Sounds like a total douche.”
Dad took a bite of the pickle nestled next to his sandwich and nodded. “A couple of friends of your mother actually encouraged me to ask her out. They didn’t like the way Russ treated her—he always expected her to hang out with him, even when she said she should be studying. He was the king of the guilt trips, always telling her he needed her.”
“And Mom would’ve bought right into that.” Mom was at her happiest when she was helping and caring for others. “So you asked her out, and that was that?”
“No.” Dad smiled, and it carried a nostalgic happiness that pulled at Tori’s heartstrings. “I asked several times, and she kept saying no. So I organized a situation in which I could rescue her—again, it was with her friends’ encouragement. And help. The girls went to a huge party at the beach and got separated from your mom.” He used air quotes to indicate the separation had all been a ruse.
“And?”
“And I just happened to be there and offered her a ride back to school. We ended up talking and spent all night on the beach. I’ve seen a hundred sunsets over the Pacific, but that was the only sunrise. Of course, we had to turn our backs to the ocean to watch it.”
Tori gasped. “You aren’t ever supposed to turn your back on the ocean! That was Mom’s mantra every time we went to the beach.”
Dad chuckled. “And with good reason. We got drenched by a wave doing exactly that. We went to a nearby motel, where the owner took pity on us and offered to dry our clothes.”
Tori dropped her hands to her sides and went to the island. She set her elbows down and leaned over the counter “Let me get this straight; your first date involved the two of you naked in a motel room?”
“Not quite.” He laughed. “There were loaner clothes involved. But that’s all I’m going to say about that. Suffice it to say, your mom dumped Russ as soon as she got back to Williver.”
“And you’ve been together ever since.” Tori stood, her chest warm and full. “I can’t believe we never heard that story before.”
“You knew we got together at a beach party.”
“Sure, but not the part about stealing her from some guy. Does Mom know you organized the whole thing?”
“Of course. You think her friends could keep that quiet? They spilled the beans as soon as she got back to their dorm.”
“And she wasn’t mad?”
Dad’s gaze grew wistful, and his lips curved up. “Not at all. By then it was too late. I think we were already falling in love. I know I was. But then, I’d loved her for a while.”
Tears pricked Tori’s eyes. Hearing this gave her hope that they would find their way back to each other. “I think you should organize another beach getaway—just the two of you. Maybe that same motel.”
Dad looked at her in surprise. “I don’t know that it’s still there. And geez, if it still is, it’s probably a dive by now. That was over thirty-five years ago, and it’d been a hole in the wall then.”
“Then take her somewhere else close by. The beach you were on is definitely still there. You should go watch the sunrise.” The coffeepot sounded that it was ready. Tori turned and grabbed a mug from the cabinet.
Dad finished his sandwich and put his plate in the sink. He brushed a kiss on Tori’s forehead. “I’ll think about that.”
She grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting it go. “Don’t think too long. You guys love each other, and you deserve to be happy.”
“So do you, Pumpkin.” He hadn’t called her that in ages. It wasn’t like when he called Sara “Kitten.” He called Tori “Pumpkin” only when he was trying to impart something really important. “What about you and Sean? He seems like a decent guy. Your mom really likes him.”
Everybody really liked him, and they didn’t understand why she’d asked him for a divorce. “He is a decent guy. It’s just . . . It’s complicated.” There was no way she was getting into how Alex’s death had doomed this marriage from the start. Dad had made great progress with his grief in recent weeks, and Tori was not going to be the one to dredge up sadness.
“He told me he was head over heels in love with you. Or something close to that. And I could see that it was true. You just reminded me that love may not solve everything, but it provides the basis for a happy life. Don’t turn your back on love, Pumpkin.”
“Just like the ocean.” She grinned. “Thanks, Dad.”
He smiled at her and left.
She poured her coffee and stared at the black brew for a long minute. She remembered the day Sean had said he’d loved her. They’d been in Santa Monica at the pier. She smiled as she realized their story involved a beach, too. They’d come across a couple writing their names inside a big heart in the sand. He’d offered to do the same, and she’d laughed, saying, “Shouldn’t we be in love first?” They’d only known each other a few weeks at that point.
His lips had curved into that sexy, bone-melting smile, and he’d said, “I am. And if you aren’t yet, that’s fine. I can wait.” Then he’d found a stick and written “I love Tori” in the sand, with a heart in place of the word “love.”
It had taken her until Vegas to say it, but she’d fallen in love with him, too. Or so she’d thought. She wondered if it had all just been a crazy dream. If it had been love, Dad was right—she owed it to herself, if not Sean, to try to make things work. But comparing their whirlwind affair to her parents’ thirty-five-year-plus relationship was like comparing peas to watermelons; they weren’t even both fruits.
Whatever had happened between her and Sean back in January was long gone, and the sooner he accepted that, the better. This back and forth—this uncertainty—was exhausting. As everyone kept pointing out, she needed to get back to the business of living. She needed to move on. And she had to do it without Sean.
Chapter Nine
SEAN PULLED THROUGH the porte cochere at the Archer estate and parked next to the garage with the upstairs apartment. He hadn’t told Tori he was coming, but that was part of h
is plan. He wanted to catch her off guard.
He stepped out of the rental car into the dusk and inhaled the fresh scent of pine and grass. He’d loved moving to LA, but being here reminded him of the Cotswolds, and he felt a pang of homesickness. The breeze stirred, tousling his hair and sending a chill over his shoulders—he’d left his jacket on the backseat. The leaves around him rustled, some of them drifting through the air in flashes of gold and red. He missed the seasons.
He looked at the house and hesitated. Maybe arriving at dinnertime wasn’t the best idea. He didn’t really want to talk to everyone, at least not at first. He wanted everyone on board with the show, but once he had Tori’s consent, she’d theoretically help him with the rest. Her parents, he thought, might be the tough sell. But then, they’d agreed to allow their kids to be filmed as tweens in the first place.
Sean had done some research the past few days. A family friend of the Archers had pitched the idea for a show about America’s first surviving set of sextuplets. It was, ironically, supposed to be a one-hour special to air around the holidays. But once the production crew had met with the Archers, they’d all agreed it would be fun to try a series. They’d filmed twelve episodes, and it had been an instant hit.
Sean had tried to talk to that producer—their friend—but he’d unfortunately passed away a few years ago. Instead, he’d spoken to the man’s former assistant. While he’d been helpful providing information, he hadn’t been able to offer anything in the way of pointers on talking to the family.
A stronger breeze blew over him and jolted him to move toward the house. As he rounded the car, Tori ran up from the backyard. Dressed in a bright green running shirt, she stopped when she saw him. She pulled her earbuds out. Her cheeks were flushed, and she breathed heavily.
“Sean, when did you get here?”
“Just now.” He walked toward her. Even sweaty, she looked beautiful, her hair pulled back in that sexy ponytail again. He paused a few feet away from her, recalling how the last time he’d seen her—in the trailer up at The Alex—they’d snogged like college kids. He doubted things would progress in that direction, but a part of him could hope.
He silently admonished himself. He hadn’t come here to make nice. He’d come here to get his show produced so he could keep his job. “I was hoping you’d changed your mind about doing the show.”
“No, I haven’t. You could’ve called and asked.”
“I could’ve, but I have a proposition for you—and no, it doesn’t involve making our marriage work.” He dosed the last part with a healthy bit of sarcasm.
She draped the cord of her earbuds around her neck. “I hadn’t taken you for a smart-ass before. But like I keep saying, we barely know each other. I’m sure there are lots of things we wouldn’t like about each other.” Her head snapped up, and she blinked at him. She seemed to become acutely aware of something.
Did he have a leaf in his hair or spinach in his teeth from the salad he’d eaten at the airport? “What?”
“Oh, nothing.” Her features relaxed into a smile, and he was instantly suspicious.
Whatever. He didn’t have time for games. “I came to offer you a deal.”
“Really?” She stretched her arms up and did some shoulder exercises. She pushed her chest forward, and her breasts strained against her shirt. Sean swallowed and forced himself to look at nothing but her face. “What’s your offer?”
“I need this show. Consent to doing it, and I’ll give you the divorce. As quick as you want one.”
She slowly lowered her arms. “What changed your mind?”
“You’ve been pretty clear in your desire to put the marriage behind you. And I want this show. If divorcing you is the only way I can get it, then that’s what I’ll do.”
She arched a brow as she sank into a hip flexor exercise. “Actually, you said you needed this show, but whatever. I still don’t want to do it.”
Another breeze chilled his shoulders, and he wished he’d put his coat on. She looked perfectly fine, but she’d just run a billion miles. He set his hands on his hips. “Wow, you’re stubborn. Not even the divorce will persuade you?”
“It’s a compelling offer, I’ll give you that.” She switched sides with her legs, stretching her muscles, and damn if it wasn’t arousing. He began to suspect that Tori filing her nails would give him a hard-on. “But I’ve been thinking, and I have a proposal of my own.” She finished stretching and stood straight. “What if we see how things really would be between us if we’d gotten married like people usually do?”
Warning bells sounded in his head. She’d been so insistent on having her space, on working through Alex’s death, on keeping Sean at bay. She hadn’t even been able to tolerate a week with him, and that had just been a few days ago. What had changed?
“You look confused.” She took a few steps toward him. “Would you rather not try living together?”
She was close enough that he could smell her sweat, which mingled with the scent of the outdoors. It combined to make an alluring fragrance. He was absolutely buggered when it came to her.
“Sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, I would like to try living together.” He would? He’d come to terms with a divorce—or was trying to anyway. He spoke slowly, measuredly. “How do we do that?”
“I’ll stay in the garage apartment with you.” She cocked her head to the side, and her ponytail grazed against her shoulder. “If that’s okay.”
The apartment was small, just one bedroom. They’d be on top of each other. Not literally, but that might be nice. “I don’t understand your complete change of attitude. You asked me for a divorce on Monday.”
She shrugged. “You were quite persuasive, and you showing up here makes me think I really ought to at least try.”
He was still suspicious but also just a tiny bit hopeful. “You want to start tonight?” Talk about a hundred-and-eighty-degree turn from where he thought he’d be.
“Sure. Just let me shower and get some things. I’ll bring something over for dinner.”
He stared at her, remembering what Kyle had told him. “You’re going to cook?”
She laughed. “Don’t sound so worried. I’m not always a terrible cook. And Kyle’s been giving me pointers. It’ll be great.”
An hour later, smoke filled the apartment, and the fire alarm pealed. Sean rushed to open windows as Tori stood waving a towel over the still-smoking pan she’d thrown into the kitchen sink.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know how that happened so fast.”
He suspected she’d simply put the temperature on too high, but he didn’t say anything. She’d tried to make dinner, and he wasn’t about to be ungrateful. “It’s all right. I’m sure I can get something from the house.”
“No, we’re supposed to be living here like a married couple. There’s no house next door as a safety net. I’ll order pizza.”
“They deliver out here?”
“Oh sure.” She waved at him nonchalantly. “I’ll go order it on my iPad.” She flashed him a smile and disappeared into the bedroom, where she’d set her stuff when she’d arrived. His things were also in there, but they hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements. If she meant to give this a real go, didn’t that mean they ought to share the bed?
Hold on there, bastard.
Two hours ago he’d been ready for scorched earth—do the show, and I’ll give you a divorce. But he hadn’t made that offer lightly. He hadn’t wanted to end the marriage, not without truly making a go of it. However, she’d made it clear during his previous visit that she didn’t want to stay married, so he’d resigned himself to ending it.
Yeah, well plans change, wanker.
Was there a chance he could have the marriage and the show? His mind grasped that thought and held it close. Wasn’t he due for something good?
She emerged from the bedroom. “Pizza’s all ordered. It’ll be here in about forty minutes.” She went back to the kitchen and frowned at the mess. “I’
ll deal with this tomorrow. You want a beer?”
“Sure.”
She grabbed two from the fridge and popped the caps off. One landed in the sink inside the burned pan, and the other clinked to the floor. She didn’t retrieve either. In fact, he wondered if she’d even noticed where they’d gone.
She handed him his bottle and said, “Cheers!” She clacked her glass with his but was too forceful, and beer sloshed over onto their hands and the hardwood floor. “Oops, sorry!”
“No problem. I’ll get paper towels.”
“I don’t need one.” She wiped her hand on her yoga pants and then dropped onto the couch.
He went to the kitchen, rinsed his hand, and mopped up the beer from the floor. Once that was done, he set about cleaning the burned pan in the sink. He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to banish the burned scent wafting from it.
The TV went on, and Tori squealed. “Oooh, a Toddlers and Tiaras marathon!”
He turned the faucet off. “Wait a minute, I thought you hated those types of reality shows.”
“Not at all.” She swigged her beer, and a bit dripped down her chin. She swiped it up with her finger and licked the digit clean. If the act hadn’t been so graceless, he might’ve been turned on. But maybe it was the whining child on the TV killing his sex drive. “I love train-wreck reality TV.”
He obviously made his living producing reality TV, but there was a line, and this show crossed it. He went back to scrubbing the pan, managing to get it clean after several minutes. He set it aside and was drying his hands when the doorbell rang.
“You’ll have to go down to get it,” she called from the couch, without turning.
He let himself out of the apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar, and went down the stairs to the front door. He paid for the pizza and took it upstairs. “Dinner’s ready.”
He set the pizza on the counter and grabbed a couple of plates. “Can I dish you up?”
“Sure.”
He opened the box and gaped at the pizza. It was piled high with four kinds of meat, sardines, and an array of vegetables, including artichoke hearts, which he knew Tori despised.