When Love Happens (10 page)

Would it be the same now? If the heat pooling in her belly was any indication,
yes
.

Would she stop him? She licked her lower lip.
No.

It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to indulge
in anything sweet . . .

His hand fell away. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned, and she shook her head, realizing that he’d rejected her. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

She called after him, “Don’t come to The Alex. I’ll call you later in the day.”

He waved his hand but didn’t look back.

A
FTER A NIGHT
during which she’d had three dreams involving Sean—his mouth and hands in particular—Tori
awoke feeling frazzled. She’d actually hit her snooze button enough times that she didn’t have time for even a three-mile run. Annoyed, she opted to just go downstairs and have a decent breakfast for once instead of grabbing a protein bar and heading out the door.

Mom greeted her with a smile as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. “Morning, dear. Coffee’s ready.”

“Thanks.” Tori set her phone
on the counter and poured a cup of the steaming black brew. Inhaling the crisp, heavy scent, she took a tentative sip, closing her eyes as soon as it hit her tongue. Instantly, some of her angst faded.

Mom chuckled. “It’s like a religious experience for you, isn’t it?”

“Every morning.” Tori took another sip before setting her cup down so she could figure out what to eat. She looked at Mom’s
oatmeal and decided that was as good as anything. “Is there any more of that?”

Mom blinked at her. “You want to eat something real?”

“Protein bars are real.”

“You know what I mean, and yes there’s more oatmeal in the Crock-Pot. I made it overnight. It’s pear with cardamom.”

Sounded fancy. Tori hadn’t eaten oatmeal in ages, and even then it had come from a pouch and a microwave. She opened
the pot and was assailed with the delicious aroma of fruit and spice. “Smells great.” She ladled a helping into the bowl and went to sit beside Mom at the counter.

Mom set her spoon down and picked up her coffee cup. “How was last night? It sounded like you were having a good time.”

“It was fun, though the stupid boys won.” Tori took a bite of oatmeal. “Hey, this is really good. Could I learn
to make this?”

“Probably, it’s not hard. Even you can’t screw up a Crock-Pot recipe.” Mom froze in the act of putting her coffee cup back down. “Can you?”

Tori hunched over her bowl. “I will neither confirm nor deny that.”

They were quiet a few minutes while they ate, and Tori could practically hear Mom’s brain trying to come up with an appropriate thing to say about Sean.

At last she said,
“I like Sean. Our family can be overwhelming, but he held his own.”

Tori nodded. He’d done exceptionally well with their ridiculous cue rules. She tried not to think too hard about the fact that he’d chosen Alex’s cue. It was just another painful reminder of how deeply and irrevocably her life had changed. Whereas Sean’s hadn’t.

“What are you going to do today?”

“Just work stuff.”

“And Sean?
Should I entertain him?”

Oh God, that would be awful. What if Mom
really
liked him? Tori set her spoon down and turned to look at her. “Sean’s a great guy . . . for someone else. I can’t imagine being with him now. It’s just a shitty—pardon me, it’s a just a terrible coincidence that we got married the night before Alex died. I can’t separate the two things.”

Mom took her hands and gave them
a light squeeze. “Oh, sweetie, I understand. I know Alex’s death has been really hard on you, and now I see why. But you mustn’t feel guilty.”

“That’s not it.” Well, it
was
, but there was more to it than that. “We didn’t think things through at all. His life is in LA. Mine is in San Francisco.”

“I was hoping it might be here,” Mom said softly. Hopefully. She’d made no secret about the fact that
she loved having Sara and Kyle back home permanently, looked forward to when Hayden returned, and hoped that the rest of them would also find their way back to Ribbon Ridge—for good.

“That would be even farther.” Tori gave Mom’s hands a squeeze and then pulled away. “We’ve tried this long-distance thing”—
barely
, but Mom didn’t know that—“and it’s a no-go. I hate disappointing you with a failed
marriage, but think of it as a really bad weekend.”

Mom’s brow furrowed. “That’s pretty harsh, Tori. Sean seems game to try to make it work. Are you sure you’re meeting him halfway?”

Frustration began to build in Tori’s chest. She didn’t want anyone second-guessing her love life. “Are you meeting Dad halfway? What’s going on with you guys? Things seem better since you got back from France, but
I live here with you. I know you don’t sleep in the same room and that Dad is sleeping on his office couch.” Which in itself was lame, since they had five unused bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs, plus Alex’s on the main floor. Tori shook away a chill. Thinking of someone in his space was as discomforting as thinking of Sean using his pool cue.

“Things are better, but we’re trying to figure
it all out.” She offered a weak smile. “It sort of sounds like you and Sean. Things are different now. It’s new territory, and we have to find a way to navigate it. If we can.”

Alarm burst through her. “What does that mean? Is your marriage in trouble?”

“I don’t think so.” Mom sipped her coffee. She seemed surprisingly unemotional, but maybe that was a coping mechanism. Tori realized she’d been
doing the exact same thing. Being detached made life so much more bearable.

“I think we’ll be okay. We’re working at it, and that’s the important thing.” She gave Tori a pointed look that clearly said
you should work at yours, too
.

Tori was saved from further mothering by the chime of her phone. She stood and went to where she’d left her phone on the counter near the coffeepot.

Aubrey Tallinger:
Bad news. Someone filed an appeal on the zoning.

Narrowing her eyes at the screen, Tori typed in a response:
What does that mean?

Aubrey Tallinger:
It means the zoning isn’t finalized until the appeal is heard.

Tori:
How long will that take?

Aubrey Tallinger:
Hard to say. Could be months. Could be more than a year.

“Motherfucker.”

“Tori!”

Tori realized she’d spoken aloud. She looked over
at Mom. “Sorry, there’s a problem with the zoning. Someone filed an appeal, and now we can’t finalize it until after that’s settled. It could take more than a year.” Anger fired through her. “We’re supposed to open next summer!”

She typed in another text to Aubrey:
What about construction? Can we continue working?

Aubrey Tallinger:
Yes. I can come up for a meeting late this afternoon to discuss
it with all of you.

Tori:
Yes, please.

“Who filed the appeal?” Mom asked, breaking through Tori’s haze of anger and confusion.

“I don’t know.” Tori sent another text asking who filed.

Aubrey Tallinger:
Russell Parker.

Tori stared at her phone. “Who’s Russell Parker?”

“Son of a bitch.”

Tori’s head shot up, and she looked at Mom in surprise. “You know him?”

Mom nodded grimly. “I do. And
your father is going to be livid.”

S
EAN HAD JUST
buttoned his shirt when his phone rang. Knowing it was likely Mike checking in—the bastard had said he wanted daily updates—he went to pick it up with extreme prejudice.

“Morning, Mike.” He didn’t bother trying to sound cheerful.

“How’s it going with the show?” Background noises of espresso machines and a barista calling names indicated he was calling from a Starbucks.

“I’m fine, Mike, thanks for asking. Still a bit tired from the jet lag, but I’m managing.”

Mike ignored Sean’s sarcasm. “Tell me you have good news. Hollis called in this morning, and her show is coming together pretty quickly.”

Bollocks.
“She already got the mom to sign on?” Hollis had pitched a show profiling a C-list celebrity as she returned home to her humble beginnings for the first time
in over a decade.

“Not yet, but I think that’s the only sticking point. So tell me you’ve got everyone on board, and I can tell Dale you’re good to go.”

“Uh . . . ”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Not quite.”
Try not at all.

“What’s the holdup?”

“I told you things with my wife aren’t great. It’s complicated.”

“Well uncomplicate it. Like today. Call me later with an update. And, Sean, you’re running out
of time.”

Fucking brilliant.
“Talk to you later.” He ended the call and threw the phone on the bed.

He
was
running out of time.

He glanced at the clock—eight forty. They were having their status meeting up at The Alex. If he went now, he could catch the end of it, and then he’d have them all together. Wouldn’t it be better to pitch the show to all of them instead of just Tori? It wasn’t up
to her alone, and he suspected he could convince some of the others—especially Kyle.

Sean had watched a few old episodes of the show last night when he’d gotten back to the apartment, and Kyle had been the breakout star. He’d been a good-looking kid, funny, well-spoken. Liam and Tori had also come across great on screen. And Hayden. But damn, Liam and Hayden weren’t even here. Could he even get
them to come home for filming? Assuming Sean could get them to agree—and that was a big assumption. Would Dale accept that not everyone might be available?

Probably not. He was a prick like that.

Sean finished getting ready in record time, swiped up his phone, and left the apartment. He parked in the dirt lot at The Alex, which had quite a few vehicles. He stepped out onto the soft ground and
blinked up into the blue sky. It was going to be a beautiful October day, but it was still too crisp for him to ditch the leather racer jacket he’d thrown on.

Locking the rental car, he strode across the lot to the trailer, where, given the people visible through the windows, he could see they were in the midst of their meeting. He pulled his sunglasses off as he opened the door and stowed them
in his jacket pocket as he stepped inside.

Five pairs of eyes swung toward him. But Sean had eyes only for Tori. She was perched on the edge of a desk, her long legs stretching from a classic gray shift dress and terminating in black heels that ought to have come with a warning. Caution: will increase the sex appeal of the wearer by a factor of ten. And the dress was equally distracting, with
a narrow black belt that encircled her trim waist. Her hair was drawn up into a high ponytail, which had to be the sexiest style he’d ever seen on her. It bared her neck and fairly begged him to lavish kisses all along the exposed flesh.

Hell.
He didn’t need this distraction.

“Hey, Sean,” Kyle said. He leaned against the wall on the other side of the trailer from Tori. Dylan sat at another desk,
while Sara and Derek took up the couch beneath the window. “Have a seat or whatever. We’re discussing a problem.”

Sean sensed a wave of unease but had initially attributed it to Tori probably being annoyed with his arrival. “What’s wrong?”

“Some asshole filed an appeal on our zoning variance.” Dylan, his eyes dark with irritation, twirled a pencil between his fingers.

“Does that mean you have
to stop work?” Sean had heard construction going on, so probably not, he realized.

“Not yet.” Dylan tossed the pencil onto the desk. “This is such bullshit.”

“You were going to tell us who this guy is?” Sara looked at Tori. “Russell Parker?”

Tori glanced at Sean, and yes, she was definitely annoyed that he was there. Especially since she’d told him she needed to work and that he should stay
away.

She pressed her lips together and addressed her siblings and Dylan. “Parker owns the property down the hill. He has issues with a commercial enterprise, says it will infringe on his natural enjoyment of his space.”

“Seriously?” Derek’s brows slashed across his forehead. “There’s nothing there. We’ve been coming up here for months, and I’ve never seen anyone on that property. Dylan, you’re
here more than anyone; you see anything?”

Dylan shook his head. “Not once, and since I live close by, yeah, I’m here a lot and at varying hours. He’s just being a dick. But why?”

Tori cleared her throat. “Apparently he and Mom used to date in college. Until she dumped him to go out with Dad.”

Sara put her hand over her mouth. “Oh no.”

Derek shook his head. “So we’re dealing with a thirty-five-year-old
vendetta of some kind?”

“Seems like it,” Tori said, crossing her arms. “We’ll find out more this afternoon. Aubrey can come meet with us at five. Can you all be here?”

Everyone nodded.

“This sucks,” Sara said, frowning.

Kyle looked around the trailer, his expression frustrated. “Maybe we should just buy his property, and he can fuck off.”

“We can certainly talk to Aubrey about that.” Tori
stood up from the edge of the desk and went around to the back of it. “For now, just keep going—business as usual.”

The mood in the trailer was decidedly agitated. And now he wanted to pitch a television show? He wanted to wait, but he was, as Mike put it, running out of time.

Dylan stood, shoving his chair back in the process. “So frustrating,” he muttered.

Now.
Sean forced himself to talk.
“Uh, can you wait a second? I’d like to talk to all of you about something.”

Tori stopped shuffling papers on the desk and snapped her gaze to his in alarm. Maybe she thought he was going to plead his case for saving their marriage to her family. It wasn’t a bad idea, but he really thought it would be a futile endeavor. Their attraction aside, he and Tori had nothing going for them in the “pro”
column.

All eyes were turned on him, curious, expectant.

“As you guys know, I’m a television producer. The company I work for does primarily reality shows, like the one I just did in Europe. Anyway, they’d like to do a Christmas-themed ‘Where Are They Now?’ special about the Archer sextuplets. I’d be executive producing, and I think it could be a really great show.”

“Except we aren’t sextuplets
anymore,” Sara said softly. She crossed her arms and seemed to squeeze them over her chest.

Dylan moved to stand next to where she sat on the couch. He reached down and massaged her shoulder.

Tori crossed her arms over her chest. Fire leapt from the glare she threw at him. “
This
is why you’re really here,” Tori spat. “I never pegged you as an opportunistic asshole.”

“Uh, I’m going to get back
to work,” Dylan said. “Sara, why don’t you come with me?”

She stood but looked uncertain. “Sure.” She glanced between Tori and Sean, hesitating. “I’ll be here for a while, Tori.”
If you need to talk afterward.
Her meaning was clear.

Sara frowned at Sean as they departed the trailer, and he was fairly certain she wasn’t going to be in favor of doing the show. Was that her personal opinion, or
would she do that to support her sister?

“This sounds kind of fun.” Kyle pushed away from the wall as Derek got to his feet. “What are you thinking, specifically?”

Kyle’s enthusiasm was encouraging. “I envision segments on each kid individually—reminiscing about the show, discussing this project, and then spending time together for the holidays.”

“We’d film it at Christmas?” Derek asked.

And Derek’s interest eased a lot of the tension between Sean’s shoulders. “Ideally we’d have it ready for viewing at Christmas, but the schedule is pretty tight. We’d have to get into production in the next couple of weeks, and we’d have a very short shooting schedule.” The entire time frame was nearly impossible, but Dale didn’t like that word. If he wanted it, he assumed it was doable.

“We’re
not doing it,” Tori said, confirming Sean’s expectation.

“Kyle and Derek seem interested.” Sean eyed the two men, who exchanged tentative looks.

Kyle slid a concerned glance at Tori. “Yeah, but I guess we need to talk about it as a family.”

“We need to see what the folks think,” Derek added.

“That makes sense,” Sean said. “Thanks for considering it. I think it’ll be a really great show, especially
with this renovation as the backdrop.”

“Talk about great advertising—we can’t buy that kind of exposure.” Kyle clapped Sean on the shoulder. “We’ll discuss it and let you know. Come on, Derek. I think they might want to argue or something.”

Kyle and Derek left the trailer, leaving Sean and Tori alone.

Tori didn’t relax even a little bit. In fact, her glare seemed to harden. When she finally
spoke, her voice was deadly calm. “You didn’t really want to reconcile—you just wanted to do this show.”

There was no reason not to be honest with her. After the past day and a half with her, he wanted to have at least that between them. “I admit that’s why I came at first. But I always hoped this marriage would work, and as soon as I saw you, I realized I still wanted that.”

She looked away
from him. “I don’t.”

Frustration curled through him. “Why? You owe me some sort of explanation, don’t you think?”

When her eyes met his again, it was clear that some of the anger had gone out of her. “We rushed into getting married, and then with what happened . . . ” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but you haven’t been my priority, and I don’t know when that
will change. You deserve the chance to move on. And I need to try to find a way to move on, too.”

He appreciated that she was trying to think of him. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ve been patient for eight months, so what’s another week or two? I meant it when I said I wanted a chance to see if we could make this work.”

“But you only decided that after you came here to convince my family to
do a show.” She tipped her head to the side. “How long have you been planning this? Is this why you approached me at that party on New Year’s Eve? Was I always a ‘get’?”

Anger kindled in his gut. She couldn’t possibly think he’d married her just to snag some TV show. “Whoa. That was a mutual thing. Wasn’t it?” He’d gone over to her near the infinity pool and offered to buy her a drink. She’d
admitted to watching him from afar.

He took a deep breath and clung to what he hoped was the truth of the memory. “I approached the most beautiful woman at that party and spent an incredible night with her. I have zero regrets.”

Her eyes flickered with something, but he wasn’t sure what. “Yeah, well, I have plenty for both of us.”

Her words spiked through him like furious little daggers aimed
to inflict maximum pain. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” His tone turned crisp. If he didn’t make this about business, he was going to completely lose his cool. “Will you think about doing the special?”

Her nostrils flared with renewed ire. “No. Like I said, I want to move on, and I can’t do that with you in the picture.”

She really didn’t want him. He’d had fun with her last night and thought
she might’ve, too. There was definitely an attraction still simmering there. But if she hadn’t worked through her grief enough to let him back into her life, what could he do? Regardless of any of that and as cold as it sounded, he still had a job to do. “I’m sorry you don’t like the idea, but it’s not up to just you.” He gestured toward the monastery. “Some of your family seemed interested.”

“I doubt Sara will agree, and good luck getting Evan, Liam, or Hayden to engage, since they aren’t even here. What, are you going to do a show just about Kyle?”

Actually, that wasn’t a half-bad idea. With a cooking angle, it could be pretty terrific . . . But would Dale go for it? It was certainly a backup plan, and just having that gave him a small measure of relief.

“I’d rather do a show about
all of you. There’s a beautiful story here—of your family and the love you have for each other. If your primary objection is because of my involvement, I’ll stay out of your hair as much as possible. Can you trust me to do that at least?”

Could
she trust him? She hadn’t trusted him enough to be her husband, to support her and be there for her during what had to have been the most difficult time
of her life. She hadn’t trusted their feelings enough to tell her family about him. He was pretty sure he knew the answer to his question, and his stomach curled with disappointment.

“You paint a pretty picture.” She looked at him sadly. “But no, I don’t think I can.”

T
ORI SAW THE
hurt etched into the hard lines around his mouth and wished she hadn’t inflicted it. As much as she wanted their
marriage to go away, it really wasn’t about him personally.

His eyes narrowed, their irises cooling to an arctic blue. “Well that’s just brilliant. My own wife can’t trust me. I guess that explains a lot.”

“I’m barely your wife. Even you have to admit that.”

“Sure, and whose fault is that? It’s not like I haven’t tried. I visited you in San Francisco. When I was in Europe, I e-mailed, I texted—I
even tried to Skype with you. You froze me out cold. If anyone ought to have trust issues here, it’s me.” He stabbed himself in the chest, his eyes dark with a fury she’d never seen in him before.

“You’ve been incredibly patient,” she said quietly.