by Sarah Gay
Tori’s stomach cramped, and it wasn’t from hunger. “I took your advice…to try and socialize.”
“And?”
Tori allowed her face to drop. “What’s the point?” She shouldn’t have asked Gussie that question. She didn’t want to dwell on that awkward encounter. “I never wanted to start dating in the first place.”
Gussie tsked her tongue. “It’s about socializing, making friends, not finding a new husband.”
“Now I know what rejection feels like.”
Tori had never been rejected before, not like that. Once she had blossomed into womanhood, she never lacked suitors. Was she no longer appealing to men? It didn’t matter, she hadn’t planned on dating anyway. She needed to stick to her original plan of being a devoted mother.
“Not possible.” Gussie shook her head. “Was he blind? And anosmic?”
“Anosmic?”
Gussie wrinkled her nose. “Someone with no sense of smell, because your perfume is intoxicating to most men.”
“Maybe that’s it.” Tori grabbed the bottle of Poison perfume from the counter. At one-hundred-dollars a bottle, it had better attract something. She spritzed it on her wrists and neck, breathing in the memory of her first date with Jim. It sure worked on him. “Now?”
“You look, and smell, amazing.”
“Thanks.”
“Almost forgot why I came in here.” Gussie sat on Tori’s bed. “Mom’s biographer just showed up to interview everyone. She interviewed me yesterday. Who should go first tonight?”
“I’ll go first,” Tori said. “What kinds of questions did she ask?”
Gussie laid back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.“You know, mom stuff.”
Tori’s gut twisted, thinking of the amazing mother she would soon lose. The biographer had been hired to chronicle their mother’s life experiences growing up as a disabled girl in war-torn Germany, then emigrating to the US after WWII and the legacy that she would leave with her children.
Gussie continued, “Like, what were my earliest memories of mom, her relationship with daddy, their careers, our modeling jobs.” Gussie placed Rambo on her stomach and rubbed his belly.
Tori laughed. “Did you tell her about mom’s invisible pet lion that she trained to keep us in line?” She paused as her eyes get wide. “Oh no.” Fear took hold of her central nervous system, causing her body to stiffen. “Please don’t tell me you told her about our invitation to the Playboy mansion.”
“Well… nothing happened there.” Gussie sat up, tossing her arms in the air. “It’s not like we had a real photo shoot.”
“She wouldn’t.” Tori gasped. “That’d be defamation.”
“Of course she wouldn’t, but it’s only defamation if it’s not true.”
Tori wanted to shake Gussie into understanding. “You know she’s a romance writer, right?”
“Romance?” Gussie questioned as if she’d never heard of the genre.
“Yep.” Tori nodded. “The sensuous kind.” The room instantly warmed ten degrees.“I need to find Annie.”
Tori rushed from the room and raced down the dark narrow hall. Her body crunched as she collided with a body of steel. His knees buckled as she fell into them, causing the well-built man to topple over.
Tripping on his legs, Tori followed him to the floor, landing on top of him. The scent of freshly ground pepper tickled her nose. She sneezed away the spice as she lifted herself off the exotic smelling man and sat to his side. Her stomach turned. This was the guy who had sent her body into nervous flutters a few hours earlier.
Why did she have to be so attracted to him? It created a guilt in her like no other. Trying to lead a somewhat civil and normal life, she had put herself out there today only to be flatly rejected. Her pride was shattered. Not again. What was he doing here?
Zee smiled at her. “By your stunned look, I guess you’re wondering why I’m in your house?”
The unescapable heat rose to the surface of her face. She sat, fixated on Zee’s aqua green eyes. She cleared her throat to give the appearance of complete control.
“Not at all. You simply realized that you were in desperate need of hot chocolate.” Tori stood and dusted off her hands. “And that I happen to be the only person in the vicinity who is able to help you with that craving.”
“Hot chocolate would be nice.” His smile widened, accentuating the cleft in his chin.
She ignored her wobbling knees. “What about your prior commitment?”
Annie, the biographer and suddenly sensuous romance author, approached. “Tori, I see you’ve met Zee, my fiancé’s cousin.” Annie pulled Zee up by one arm. “And bodyguard.”
Annie’s hair, woven in multiple shades of caramel, reminded Tori of her junior high days, when she and Gussie would spend the afternoon on the deck, spraying citrus-scented Sun-in into their hair—then basking in the sunshine to create warm highlights.
“Bodyguard?” Tori questioned.
Zee shook his head. “Slave, really. I came to catch a few flics at the Sundance Film Festival and be Annie’s slave.”
“Catch a few flics?” Annie playfully questioned him then turned to Tori. “Actually, Zee allowed me to catch a ride in his—”
“Car to the airport,” Zee cut her off. “It’s a long drive from Healdsburg to Oakland.”
“Right.” Annie nodded. “Uber drivers can be scary.”
Tori noticed an exchange of confidence between the two. They were hiding something. “Follow me to the kitchen and I’ll set you up with the best hot cocoa in town.”
“What can I do to help?” Zee offered.
“I’d like to take advantage of your height.”
She caught his inviting smile, but did not return it. She wasn’t interested in playing games, and he seemed the type. He had rejected her this morning, and now gave her flirtatious eyes? The nerve.
Zee pulled down the mugs from the cabinet as Tori walked deep into the pantry to retrieve the hot cocoa mix. Luckily, her large inquisitive family was in the formal dining area, engrossed in conversation as they enjoyed their meal. And, thankfully for Tori, they appeared unaware of her interactions with Zee in the kitchen.
“I met Gussie, your twin.”
“You did? Can you tell us apart?” Tori scooped a hefty spoonful of cocoa mix into Zee’s mug, spilling a bit onto the counter.
She grabbed a moist cloth and cleaned it up. Tori admitted to herself that she was a tad bit obsessive compulsive when it came to her white marble countertops. Can you put tad bit and compulsive together in the same thought? Maybe she shouldn’t have gone with white countertops, walls, and cabinets. At least her wooden floors were a deep mahogany.
“Yes.” He brushed Tori’s cheek lightly with the back of his fingers, bringing her out of her internal dialogue. “Her dimple is on the other side of her face.”
The warmth of his touch set Tori’s face on fire. Dang it. Why did she blush so easily? And what gave him the right to touch her?
“We’re mirror twins.” Tori stepped back from his reach. “It’s theorized that we split about a week after most identical twins, causing our features to mirror each other, as if we’re looking in a mirror.”
“And your names are unique.” He rested his elbows into the bar counter. “You told me that Tori is short for Victoria. What about Gussie?”
“Family name. Long story short, we are decedents of Princess Anna Feodora Auguste Charlotte Wilhelmine.”
“Wow.” He blinked. “Quite the name.”
“I know, right?” Tori giggled. “Gussie’s short for Auguste. Anna Feodora Auguste’s half-sister was Alexandrina Victoria. Their mother, Victoria, was a widowed German princess who married a royal Brit in a race to secure the throne of England. And they succeeded.”
“Wait.” Zee slapped his palms down on the counter. “Are you talking about Queen Victoria, who reigned the British Empire for forty years?”
“Don’t forget Ireland. Tori—after my great-great-great-
aunt, Queen Victoria.” Tori looked down at her fingers and twisted her lips as she began counting in her head. “I think that’s the right number of greats?”
“You’re a direct descendent of Queen Victoria?”
“Of her sister, who Gussie’s named after. Quite the scandalous affair of my great-great grandmother. Although, I don’t think she had much of a choice.” Tori’s eyes widened. “But don’t tell Annie.”
Zee gave a low whistle. “You don’t need to worry about Annie.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate. “She’s a sweetheart.”
“Oh, really?” Tori insinuated a romantic interest. “You think she’s a sweetheart?”
Zee rested his chin in his hand as the edges of his lips curled up like he’d discovered a secret. “Really.”
Tori caught his attentive stare. She had reacted childishly. Had he caught her jealous intonation?
He cleared his throat as his back straightened. “Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow evening?”
Yes. He’d caught it. Tori’s heartbeat accelerated “Um.”
“I need to explain.” He leaned toward her. “Earlier today, when I noticed your ring, I thought you were married. Annie saw you and me speaking in the lodge, and later explained your situation to me.”
A herd of cattle suddenly entered the room—AKA nieces and nephews aplenty.
“Do I smell chocolate in here?” the little voice of Tori’s three-year-old niece entreated.
Tori picked the adorable little blondie up in her arms. “We have chocolate cake or hot cocoa.”
“Cake!”
“Cake it is.” Tori had a moment to think. Should she go out with him?
Tori gingerly raised her eyes to his. He continued to stare at her. She warmed at the notion that he found her attractive. Was it the perfume?
As Tori cut a small piece of cake for her niece, her wedding band clinked against the glass plate. Her mind flew back to her fingers entwined with Jim’s as he took his last labored breath and whispered that they would see each other again.
What was the situation that Annie had explained to Zee? That Tori was a widow? She would always be a widow. That was her new identity. That was her new reality. She would always be Jim’s widow. The only man she had ever wanted was Jim, and he had told her he would wait for her in heaven.
Tori could kick herself. She flirted with a stranger while her husband waited.
“I can’t,” Tori said, her eyes staring down at her fingers. She couldn’t look at him.
Tori’s remaining nieces and nephews soon engulfed the room. At times, Tori could hardly tell the difference between her nieces and grandnieces. They were so close in age.
“Zee!” Ethan bounced in with a basketball in his arms. “Come play ball with me.”
“Sure.” His voice sounded strained. “I’ve got a few minutes, then I need to head out.”
Tori was motionless as she watched them walk to the back of the house toward the indoor basketball court. She rubbed her face in the palms of her hands. When she opened her eyes, she looked across the kitchen to the living room. The two rooms were connected in a triangular shape with the formal dining area. Tori noticed Annie sitting in the corner of the living room, alone, clicking her pen as she held a glazed-over stare.
Tori followed Annie’s eyes to Gussie, who was cleaning chocolate frosting off their niece’s face.
“Annie,” Tori called to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Thank you, no.” Annie shook her head.
Tori made her way to Annie. “Who’ve you met so far?”
“No one yet. I’ve been observing.”
“I apologize. Tori sighed. “We sometimes get wrapped up in our own affairs.”
“Don’t apologize.” Annie threw her hand down at the wrist in a dismissive gesture. “You can learn more from a person by observing than by listening to them speak. I see things that’ll never be told.”
Tori raised her eyebrows. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“You have a lovely family,” Annie said in a calming voice. “And every family has their issues. I’ll be respectful. Promise.”
“Thanks.”
Tori left Annie to her observations. She walked away with grief and disappointment wrenching her into reclusion. Thank goodness Zee wasn’t a local. She’d never have to see him again. Her only desire was to get back into bed and sleep. Tori locked her door and climbed atop her down comforter. Her framed wedding photo adorned the unstained, rustic nightstand.
“Why?” Tori laid her head on the linen decorative pillow as tears burned beneath her eyelids.
Rambo bounced across the comforter. With his every step, he sank up to his thighs in the feathered covers. He looked like a fawn—vaulting through a meadow, freshly covered in airy snow.
Tori smiled, “You made it. Don’t you go anywhere.”
As Rambo’s leathery tongue tickled up the inside of Tori’s foot, it sent her into a fit of laughter.
“Maybe I’ll change your name to Deliverer.”
4
Zee’s ears welcomed the hum of the jet’s engines. It would be a brief, overnight stop in Healdsburg, then back to the wind and surf. The beige and cream, two-toned interior of his jet always seemed to calm him. And it was quiet, with only Annie to accompany him back to California.
On the flight out of Healdsburg to Salt Lake City last week, the ten-seat jet had reached capacity. Zee commissioned his pilot to stop at the Healdsburg Municipal Airport to retrieve the subjects of his documentary to be premiered at the Sundance Film Festival. None of the field workers had ever been on a plane before. After their initial excitement, and notoriety in the spotlight, they were ready to be home with their families. Zee had flown them all back on a commercial flight a few days earlier.
Zee grabbed his glass of ginger ale. The crushed ice clinked against his teeth as the cool spritzer poured down his throat. Tori’s long stride interrupted his thoughts. He attempted to clear his mind of her through meditation. He relaxed back and closed his eyes. The coils within his roomy, leather seat warmed his back and legs. The comforts of his corporate jet were unparalleled.
That was a lie. Kai, his younger brother, the billionaire entrepreneur, had a much nicer jet. Zee was a lowly multi-millionaire, executive film producer with little fame and a small fortune. It was a hollow existence. He yearned for… her face, when she looked at him in the lodge, like he had saved her from painful destruction. And Ethan, what a great kid. He had been so teachable, so eager to learn.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Zee reluctantly opened his eyes to Annie’s inquisitive stare. She had swiveled her chair around to face him, and tapped the keys of her laptop as she studied him.
“Yeah, right.” He shook his head. “No way. You’re not getting any material from me.”
“Too late. You’re a mega-hunk, who’s super wealthy, and in desperate need of some serious lovin’. Basically, you’re the hero in almost every romance novel. But—you’re the real deal. Like a documentary compared to a reality show.”
“Oh, that’s eloquent,” he said sarcastically.
“Eloquence isn’t my thing.” Annie tilted her chin down and smiled. “I’m a writer, not a fighter.”
Zee rested his hands in his lap. “Fighter?”
“It rhymes. Public speaker doesn’t flow.”
“Back to the hero thing.” Zee wished she would stop romanticizing him. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not all that. And I got all the lovin’ I can handle, thank you.”
Annie shrugged her shoulders. “You seemed eager to get to Tori’s house when you realized she was the widow you’d met in the lodge.”
“I’ve got too many other women pounding on my door to spend my time pining for her.”
“You talk macho, but you’re not like those Hollywood licentious knockoffs, unbound to law or any sense of ethics or morality.”
Zee blinked hard. “That’s harsh.”
“S
orry. I just don’t get into their self-love. You’re more caring than that—a big softy.”
“You’re wrong.” He shook his head. “I’m stubborn and mean.”
“Stubborn, perhaps, but you don’t have a mean bone in your body. None of the Terrences do. You’re all amazing.”
“You’re merely twitterpated with my cousin. Someday his halo will become a noose.” Maybe that was beneath Zee, to dis his cousin, but no man is perfect. She needed to stop pretending like some were.
“I’m smitten with him, for sure.” She raised her pointer finger in the air. “But, I stand by my conclusion. I have empirical data to support it.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And what, exactly, is this empirical data?”
“You left a lucrative career in Reality TV to produce documentaries, which barely pay for themselves. That puts you in the realm of an educator, a philanthropist, and a human rights activist.”
“Activist?” Zee did not consider himself an activist.
“Exactly. Like your documentary, Immigrants Work.”
“There are so many political scare tactics emerging around immigrants right now.” His voice faltered as his anger grew. “That’s why I commissioned the documentary, to dispel those misconceptions.”
“Great flic.”
“They’re the hardest workers I’ve met. They wake up at three in the morning, and then break their backs in the fields all day. And they’re extremely religious, and family oriented. The sacrifices that they’ve made would make Mother Theresa look like a slacker.”
“Your film had an amazing showing.” Annie leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “I was in tears three minutes in. Moving, absolutely moving.”
Annie had managed to climb inside Zee’s mind and scamper around. She seemed to grasp what he longed for, but he didn’t feel like he’d accomplished anything yet. He moaned out under his breath, “If only my voice could sing the melody of understanding and compassion.”
She touched his arm as her eyes welled. “That was beautiful.” She retracted quickly, excitement lighting her eyes. “I’m using it. Okay?”