by Darcy Burke
Kyle’s eyes clouded briefly with regret, and he looked away. “Yeah, I know. And hopefully someday you’ll stop giving me shit about it.”
She laughed. “Too soon? I’m not mad at you for leaving anymore. I get why you had to go, but I’m your sister. I will always flip you shit about stuff like that. It’s my job.”
He returned his attention to her, his blue-green eyes—nearly identical to her own—narrowing. “Then it’s my duty to harass you about Cade. He’s totally into you. Why are you dogging him?”
It seemed that since Kyle and their sister, Sara, had both found their soul mates this year, they expected everyone else to do the same. Granted, their adopted brother, Derek, had also found his true love, and they’d gotten married in August. What none of them knew, however, was that Tori was already spoken for—at least on paper.
“I’m not dogging him. I’m just not interested, okay?”
Kyle set his hands on his hips. “We don’t get it.” His use of “we” signified an informal Archer family committee. The kind that organized on a whim to solve another family member’s “problem” that wasn’t really a problem at all. “He’s smart, good-looking, wicked successful. And you have tons of stuff in common. He even runs marathons, for Christ’s sake.”
Tori sipped her beer and turned her attention to the crowd so she could stop looking at Kyle’s well-meaning face. She’d carved out a nice little pity party for herself over the past eight months, and she wasn’t ready to call it quits. And why was that? Because then she’d have to face the music. She suppressed a tremor of unease. “I’ll go ahead and order Save the Date cards. Will you leave me alone now?”
Kyle blew out a breath and threw his hands up. “Fine. You’re weirding us all out, you know. Even Mom and Dad are worried about you.”
Mom and Dad had taken Alex’s death even harder than Tori had, which was to be expected, of course. Their marriage had suffered, but after spending a few months with Tori’s youngest brother, Hayden, in France, Mom had returned for Derek’s wedding, and things between her and Dad had seemed to improve.
“Did they talk to you about me?” she asked softly, dreading the answer. Worst-case scenario, they’d had a family meeting.
“Individually. They still aren’t quite simpatico.” He tossed her a look tinged with sorrow. They all wanted their parents to get back to their happy place, but none of them was sure it was even possible. “They know you’re still struggling with Alex’s suicide.”
“Aren’t we all?”
His lips curved down. “Don’t be obnoxious. You’re having a tough time, so don’t bother hiding it.” Yes, she was, but it wasn’t Alex’s death alone. Not that any of them knew that.
“Do I need to worry about an intervention?” Then she’d have to come clean about her secret. Or would she? If she could get this divorce going, maybe they’d never have to know about her Giant Failure. Monday she’d get right on that. But first she had to find out when Sean was due back in the States.
Kyle chuckled. “Not quite yet.” He sobered. “Listen, if you really aren’t into Cade, I’ll drop it. Maggie’s already told me to lay off—that you’ll get back to your old self in time. Or find your new self. Whatever.” He shook his head. His girlfriend was a former therapist and had become a close friend to Tori over the last few months. If she could tell anyone the truth, it would probably be Maggie.
“I’d appreciate you doing that. And getting everyone else to do the same. Cade’s great. Just not for me. At least, not right now.”
Kyle nodded. “We only want you to be happy. You carry such a dark cloud.” He grazed his fingertips across her forehead.
She looked up at him from her five feet nine inches and allowed herself to smile. “It’s lightening. Slowly. But it is. You being here helps a lot. I’m so glad you’re home.”
After four years of living in Florida, he’d returned last spring to help with The Alex, which had been Alex’s intent. He’d established a trust for the remaining six of them, including Derek, and a plan for them to renovate an old monastery into a premier Archer event space. His primary goal was for all the siblings to come back home to find their family and their roots again—and, most importantly, to appreciate them. Tori had done her part, acting as architect for the space and spending as much time here as her real job would allow. She had to travel back and forth to San Francisco regularly, but her boss had been great about adjusting her workload. Unfortunately that meant smaller, lower-profile projects when she’d gotten used to working on international jobs that had put her firmly in the limelight, a place she loved to be. Or had loved until her life had been turned upside down. Would she ever go back to that? Did she even want to?
Kyle smiled down at her and took off into the crowd. Tori finished her beer. Time for another. Or, she could just escape and go home. Home being her parents’ house, where they’d all grown up.
She’d made her appearance, which pleased Dad, and now she could take off without guilt. Right after she told him she was leaving. Picking her way through the crowd, she nodded at people she knew but realized there were increasingly more she didn’t. The festival was attracting quite a range of people, a lot of non-Ribbon Ridgers who delighted in the small town nestled in the Willamette Valley with its wineries, shops, art galleries, and picturesque landscape. It was close enough to the big city to be accessible, but far enough out to feel like a destination. They were counting on that to sell The Alex as the premier destination property in the northern Willamette Valley.
“Tori!” Sara, the only other girl besides Mom in their crazy family, waved her over to where she stood with Kyle’s girlfriend, Maggie, and Derek’s wife, Chloe. “We’ve been looking for you.”
“Here I am.” Again, she forced a smile she didn’t really feel. She held up her empty mug. “Just heading to refill my beer.” Not really, but if she told them she was leaving, they’d do everything in their power to stop her, just shy of tying her to a chair. On second thought, Archers could be ruthless, even the women. Maybe they would tie her to a chair. Or a tent pole, since the tent lacked chairs.
“No need,” Chloe said, reaching to the tall table just behind her and picking up a half-empty pitcher. “You drinking Nocktoberfest?”
“Yes,” she said, holding out her mug for Chloe to fill. Glancing at their mugs, Tori noted that Sara’s was empty enough that she couldn’t tell what it held. “I’m surprised Sara is.”
Sara made a face, sticking out her tongue. “Not a chance. You know me and beer. This is hard cider. Dad’s finally caved to my demands to make a special batch for the holidays. Can’t wait!”
They chatted about cider versus beer for a few minutes, during which Tori became more and more impatient to leave. While it was true she once adored functions like this, they’d become painful to endure since Alex’s death. She hadn’t even been able to enjoy Derek and Chloe’s wedding in August. The combination of marrying Sean and losing Alex the very next morning had ensured weddings in particular were difficult, but she had to admit that all social events had become a challenge for her. And why was that? Because she was depressed? Because she felt guilty? Yes and yes.
“What’s up, Tori? You look unsettled.” Sara sidled close and spoke softly so that Chloe and Maggie couldn’t hear.
“Nothing. I’m just tired. I took a particularly long run this morning,” she lied. Ten miles was her standard Saturday or Sunday morning run.
Sara glanced around. “Where’s Cade? Maybe you guys should take off and go somewhere more private.”
Tori gritted her teeth. “Sara, I’m not into Cade. I wish you all would stop trying to hook me up.”
Sara’s eyes flashed with defensiveness but then settled into remorse. “Okay. We’re just trying to shake you out of your funk. I think it might be time for you to see a therapist.”
Tori glanced toward Kyle’s girlfriend, still engaged in conversation with Chloe. “I talk to Maggie.”
“That’s not the same. She’s no
t even practicing anymore.”
Tori rolled her eyes. “It’s not like she forgot how to be a therapist now that she’s the groundskeeper at The Alex.”
“You know what I mean.” Sara fidgeted with the leather bracelet doubled around her wrist. It was a slight action but was so necessary to her sensory processing disorder. Was she becoming agitated? No, she wasn’t pulling on her arms yet or otherwise tensing her muscles.
Tori touched Sara’s shoulder and summoned a weak smile despite the turmoil running through her. “I appreciate you worrying about me, really, but don’t. You have your own life to live, and I have mine.”
Sara’s gaze remained clouded with concern. “You’re different since Alex died. More serious. I didn’t realize it before. We’ve all been so focused on Mom and Dad, and then Kyle came back. You can tell me not to worry, but I will until I see the old Tori come back.”
Tori dropped her hand. “I am who I am, Sara. If it’s not good enough for you, then I can’t help it.”
Sara blinked and then crossed her arms, which generally indicated she was tensing up and needed to regulate. Tori felt instantly contrite but couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She was tired of everyone bugging her. No, she was actually tired of feeling like she was trapped. Trapped by Alex’s suicide, by her guilt, by . . .
Chloe let out a low whistle that sounded like it belonged on a construction site, coming out of the mouth of a brawny foreman. “Yeah, that one’s hot.”
Sara turned to look at her and Maggie, who were perusing the crowd. “Are you checking out men who aren’t your husband or boyfriend?”
“Yeah, you want to join us?” Maggie said, sipping her beer. “Ten o’clock, hottie with brown hair and stubble.”
“Nice,” Sara said, dropping her hands from her arms.
Tori exhaled, feeling better that Sara’s senses weren’t spun up. And since they were all occupied, she could finally excuse herself.
“I like that one better,” Sara said. “Two o’clock, near the bar. Dark, wavy hair, great outfit.”
“Are those tailored jeans?” Maggie asked, leaning forward and squinting for comic effect. Both Sara and Chloe laughed.
Tori turned her head to check this guy out for herself. And nearly dropped her beer.
“Hey, I met that guy earlier,” Chloe said. “At the fondue table. He’s British. Drop-dead sexy accent.”
“Oh. My. God.” Maggie sucked in a breath. “British accents are my Achilles’ heel. Don’t tell Kyle.”
“I’m totally telling Kyle, and you can thank me,” Sara said. “He does a great Scottish accent.”
Maggie grinned. “Yes. Yes, on second thought, please tell Kyle.”
They all laughed while Tori’s insides curled into a nausea-inducing mass. She had to get out of here pronto. “I’ll leave you to your browsing.” She turned to go and stopped short as the man they were discussing wove toward them. Move, Tori. Pick up your feet and move. But she couldn’t. It was as if she’d rooted to the floor.
“Oh crap, he’s coming this way!” Sara giggled.
“He must’ve seen us staring.” Chloe laughed, her eyes dancing. “Oops. Guess we’ll have to blame it on Tori, since she’s the only single one of us. Don’t want him thinking we’re interested!”
“No, don’t do that,” Sara said, flicking a nervous glance at Tori. “Tori isn’t interested either.”
Tori stifled a ridiculous urge to laugh. She’d been more than interested. Once. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. She braced herself as he came to stand before them.
And stared directly at her, his deep blue eyes seeming to bore straight to her soul.
“Hi, ladies.” Was he going to pretend they didn’t know each other?
“See?” Chloe said sotto voce before clearing her throat. “Hi. Welcome to Ribbon Ridge.”
“Thank you. It reminds me of villages back home—quite lovely.” His gaze was glued to Tori as he said lovely. His English accent flowed over Tori, eliciting the same visceral response she’d had when she’d met him more than nine months ago. Maggie might dig British accents, but for Tori, they were auditory aphrodisiacs. Especially when paired with lush cobalt eyes and a smile that could melt a glacier. She was annoyed to find she hadn’t become immune during the months they’d been apart.
“Hi, I’m Maggie, and this is Chloe, Sara, and Tori.” She gestured toward each of them as she spoke. “Are you here for Oktoberfest or something else?”
“Something else.” The corner of his mouth lifted in the barest hint of that sexy smile Tori had fallen in lust with. And damn it if her knees didn’t wobble. “I wonder if I might borrow Tori for a bit?”
Tori resisted the urge to gauge the others’ reactions. Let them draw their own conclusions—she knew she’d have to explain later. But right now she wanted to know what in the hell her husband was doing here.
She forced a tight smile that was more for her sister and the others than for Sean. He might still stir her desire, but seeing him dredged up a whole host of other feelings she preferred to bury—regret, self-disgust, guilt. “Sure.”
He offered her his arm, and she took it, lightly curling her fingers around his forearm. She could feel his muscles and tendons through the cotton of his white button-down shirt. And his heat. Touching him, she decided, had been a lousy idea.
“See you later,” he said to the others, allowing his mouth to curve into that full devastating grin.
Tori had almost forgotten how gorgeous he was. Almost.
She glanced at her sister, who watched her with surprise and mouthed, “Who is he?”
Tori said nothing, just shook her head. Her stomach tossed as she realized she’d finally have to come clean. First, however, she had to deal with Sean, find out what he was doing here, and then tell him to go away—for good.
Chapter Two
SEAN HAD EXPECTED to feel the jolt of lust when he saw her. What he hadn’t expected was seeing it reflected in her eyes. It was Kuala Lumpur all over again. Totally cliché meet: They locked eyes across a crowded space. He bought her a drink. They chatted. They danced. They made love in her private bungalow all night. And they married five weeks later.
Jump ahead nine months, and they were back to being strangers. Worse than strangers, actually, because the desire in her gaze had quickly faded and become something far uglier. She’d looked at him with utter distaste, as if she’d stepped in something really foul, and that something was him.
“Where are we going?” he asked, having no idea where to take her so they could talk.
“Out of the tent.” She steered him through the main entrance, where people were filtering in and out. Outside in the park, smaller vendors were set up around the rectangular green space selling all manner of things—knitted accessories, handmade soaps, woodworked items. But it looked as though they were starting to close up for the night. Meanwhile, the food and beer were plentiful inside the main tent and at the tables set up behind it.
She drew away from him, her slim runner’s legs devouring the grass as she stalked to the corner of the park, where a small playground stood silent and deserted at this hour. As soon as they reached it, she turned and looked at him warily. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought it was past time for a face-to-face visit, don’t you?”
Light posts illuminated the displeased set of her mouth. “I didn’t realize you were back in the States.”
“Only just. Coming to see you was my first priority.” That might have been true if she’d given him even a smidgeon of encouragement, but she’d done nothing except evade his efforts to connect. Which wasn’t to say he didn’t care—he did. And truth be told, he had wanted to see her. A part of him wanted to know if what was between them was really gone.
She sipped her beer. “I’m surprised.”
“And annoyed, it seems.”
She exhaled. “Sorry, I really wanted to keep you separate from my life here.”
“From your life period
, you mean?” Sarcasm wasn’t going to help his cause. He gave himself an internal shake and admonished himself to keep his focus. “Forget I said that. I take it your family still doesn’t know about me?”
“No, and I was sort of hoping they never would.”
Ouch. She wanted to end their fledgling union before she’d even given it a chance. That pissed him off. He didn’t give up on things. He fought and he worked and he went after what he wanted, no holds barred. It was why he was here—he had to save his job. And if it could somehow bring them back together, so much the better. However, his hope for that was completely withering.
He stepped toward her. “I was hoping the precise opposite. You’re my wife, Tori, and I take my vows very seriously. I understand you needed time, but it’s been over eight months since the wedding. I haven’t seen you since March, and we’ve barely communicated. I’ve missed you.” He worried he was heaping it on too thick, but this was too important to bugger.
“Why?” She crossed her arms, still clutching her plastic beer mug. “We barely know each other. Three days in Malaysia. What, five or six over a couple of weekends in LA? And then the weekend in Vegas.”
“Don’t forget the weekend in San Francisco.” Although they were likely better off doing just that. He’d visited her about a month after her brother had died. She’d been sad and withdrawn. He’d tried to be supportive, but she’d kept him at arm’s length. He’d slept on the couch and cut the trip short.
She threw him a glance that said she was having the same thought as him—that some things were better left forgotten. Such as their entire farce of a marriage.
This evening was in danger of going directly into the shitter. He wished he had another mug of that delicious stout he’d sampled earlier. Or maybe a vat of it.
He took a deep breath and tried for something pleasant, conciliatory. “You look great.” Dressed in skinny jeans tucked into knee-high boots and a V-neck coral sweater with a patterned infinity scarf, she was even sexier than he remembered. And he had a pretty good memory where she was concerned. A memory that included auburn hair. “Your hair’s different—I like it.”