The Idea of You

by Darcy Burke

  “Honestly? I would’ve brought a picnic, but I was afraid you’d find that too morbid, especially since your brother’s buried here.”

  “Actually, that sounds like a nice idea because he’s buried here. As if we’re having lunch with him.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I suppose. Would your family feel the same way?”

  “I have no idea. I’ll have to file that under ‘don’t know and don’t really care.’ ”

  More laughter. “God, you are so cool.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the grass. “Come on.”

  He went along with her, stupidly disappointed that he’d given her gloves and as a result was deprived of the heat and intimacy of her skin. They walked up to the stone marker, and she read it aloud.

  “ ‘Ribbon Ridge Pioneer Cemetery, eighteen fifty-nine.’ ” She turned her head to look up at him. “I didn’t realize it predated the Civil War. When was Ribbon Ridge founded?”

  “Eighteen fifty-nine was the year Oregon became a state—on Valentine’s Day. Ribbon Ridge was incorporated in eighteen seventy-eight, but my great-great-great-grandfather established the settlement here in eighteen fifty-six. He moved west from New York to find his fortune after a friend came out here to be a fur trapper.”

  “Was he a fur trapper, too?”

  “No, a farmer. And a postmaster. And a banker. He founded Ribbon Ridge, so he had a lot of jobs. He’s buried over here.” He led her to a relatively new marker. “My grandfather replaced this when my dad was a kid because the old one was falling down.”

  She let go of his hand and ran her gloved fingers over the names. “Absolutely fascinating. And so cool. I love genealogy. How far back can you trace your family?”

  “Ironically, we can trace further back on my mom’s side. We can get all the way to the Middle Ages in France. With the Archers, we’re sort of stalled out in the seventeenth century, I think.”

  “Very cool.” She turned her head back to the stone. “The other name on here is his wife?”

  “Yeah. They had separate headstones, but Dad says hers was small and kind of lame next to her husband’s, so they combined them.”

  She took his hand again. “Show me more.”

  They walked among the headstones, and he told her all he knew of the history of Ribbon Ridge and some of the people buried in the cemetery. Most of them, however, were just fading names on stone. Until they reached the newer part of the cemetery, where the granite was still shiny and the etched information crisp.

  Next to a towering oak was Alex’s grave, marked with a four-foot-tall stone and decorated with the Archer logo, which he’d asked for in his will.

  “This is your brother,” she said softly.

  He nodded, his throat oddly tight. He’d shed tears when Alex had died, but his grief had been compact and easy compared to that of the rest of his family. He just didn’t hold onto negative emotion—what was the point? And that was a question he hadn’t even asked until recent years. Before that, he’d just moved on without realizing he was supposed to cling to sadness or anger or frustration.

  “His name wasn’t Alexander?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat. “No, just Alex. All of us have four letter names with two syllables. Except Hayden, because he isn’t one of the sextuplets. Mom and Dad didn’t want rhyming names or names that started with the same letter, but Mom was adamant we have some sort of naming convention that tied us together.”

  “That’s pretty cool. So there’s you, Tori, Sara, Kyle . . . Who am I missing?”

  “Liam.”

  She nodded. “The jerk who broke his wrist. Is he doing okay?”

  “I think so. I should text him.”

  “Or call him.” She laughed. “I don’t know, does anyone call anymore? It’s sometimes easy to forget that these texting machines actually started as phones.”

  He liked the feel of her hand in his, even with the glove. “Very true.”

  “Despite not calling each other, you all seem really close. Like you said. Which makes me wonder why you’re keeping your job at the company a secret. Why don’t you tell them the truth?”

  “I was actually thinking about that earlier. I like the anonymity, the space. What if they want to micromanage me or make assumptions about my abilities?”

  She turned toward him and rubbed her thumb over his hand. “Do you really think they would do that?”

  He thought about it. His siblings had always treated him, Sara, and Alex a bit differently, something Evan hadn’t even really noticed until college, when he’d finally managed to develop a better sense of awareness, not that it was terribly advanced even now.

  “They expect certain things from me,” he said cautiously, wondering if he could explain the dynamics of his family when he sometimes felt he didn’t really understand them. He distinctly remembered telling his mother when he was younger that he wished his siblings “got” him better. Sara related to him the most with her sensory-processing disorder, and Tori tried really hard. The others were less . . . patient. No, that wasn’t the right word. He wasn’t sure what the right word was.

  She moved closer to him. “All families expect things—it’s an unwritten rule. And since you Archers are apparently good at those, I’d guess your siblings are particularly awesome when it comes to making assumptions. But aren’t you doing the same thing by not being honest with them? You don’t really know how they’ll react or behave.” She touched Alex’s headstone. “I’d say losing Alex ought to remind you all not to take anything—or anyone—for granted. Maybe you should trust them enough to support you. I can’t imagine they wouldn’t.”

  She cupped his cheek and smiled up at him. “Am I making any sense to you at all, or am I just rambling?”

  “As it happens, I speak fluent rambling, so even if you are, it makes sense to me.” He leaned down and kissed her, his lips lingering softly over hers.

  He felt a vibration through his coat and realized it was her phone in her pocket.

  “Excuse me.” She pulled it out and checked the screen. “I have to take this. Hold on.” She let go of his hand and strolled a few feet away, but he could still hear what she said.

  “Oh, great.”

  She said “great” but didn’t sound excited. At least not to him, but then, he wasn’t very good at discerning tone of voice.

  She pivoted toward him, her gaze fixed on the ground. “Actually, I’ve been thinking I’d rather not do it. Is that okay?” She kicked her booted toe at a small rock, sending it skidding over the dry ground. “I know, and tell him I’m sorry. Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

  She stashed the phone in her pocket and walked back to him, her face bright with a gorgeous smile. He was getting used to seeing her face in person instead of on a screen, but when she smiled like that, it was always a bit of a jolt.

  “Everything good?” he asked.

  “Yep. Just a work thing.”

  “How long are you staying?” He hadn’t meant to ask, but like so many things he said, the question just fell out of his mouth.

  “I’m not sure, but as of right now I don’t have any plans to leave.”

  He walked to her and snaked his hand around her waist, then pulled her against his chest. “Good.” He kissed her again, this time for much longer and with considerably more heat.

  Her fingers twined into the hair at his nape. He loved that sensation. He pretty much loved everything about her, even her unsolicited advice about his family.

  When he lifted his head, he looked down at her but was unable to see her eyes because of her sunglasses. Just as she wouldn’t be able to see him. Here he was making eye contact, and she couldn’t even tell. He nearly laughed. “I’ll think about what you said.”

  She clasped his hand. “Excellent. Now let’s explore the rest of the cemetery. I need to work up an appetite for dinner.”

  His cock was at half-staff after kissing her. “I could think of a much better way to do that.”

  She grinned. “Me, too, b
ut even I draw the line at doing that in a cemetery.” She lowered her sunglasses from her eyes briefly and waggled her eyebrows. “We’ll save it for the apartment.”

  “Before or after dinner?”

  “Why not both? Come on, I’ll race you to the car.”

  Apparently she’d changed her mind about seeing the rest of the cemetery. And he didn’t mind one bit.

  Chapter Ten

  THE WIND HAD picked up in the hours since they’d walked through the cemetery. And the sky had grown overcast. Now it was nearly dark as Alaina pulled her new knit cap lower over her ears and pulled the scarf up to cover her nose. It maybe wasn’t that cold, but the hat and scarf afforded a great disguise. She didn’t want anyone recognizing her.

  “It got chilly,” she said to Evan, who walked beside her, holding her hand as they made their way down Ribbon Ridge’s main street toward The Arch and Vine. She’d asked if they could get to town a little early so she could peek in the shop windows. They’d parked across the street from a cozy coffee shop and bookstore. Alaina longed to go inside and browse. Curling up in the apartment with a good book on a cold winter night sounded awesome. Even better if she could do it with Evan.

  Heh, do it with Evan.

  She’d done it with Evan that afternoon at the apartment, and it had been even better than the first time. They’d been absolutely desperate to get each other’s clothes off, and as a result, they hadn’t quite gotten naked. They’d also tried at least three different positions. Or maybe it was four. As she started to tally them off in her head, she decided the evening would go better if she wasn’t completely horny from the get-go.

  They passed a window display of knitted hats, scarves, and a gorgeous blanket in hues of red and purple.

  “This is where I got your hat and stuff,” Evan said.

  She looked up at the sign hanging over the door. “The Knitty Gritty. Ha! What a fun name. It looks so cute. I’ve always wanted to take up knitting. My grandmother was really good at it and tried to teach me when I was little, but I wasn’t interested.” She regretted that. Where her grandfather was opinionated and righteous, Grandmama had been soft-spoken and kind. She never openly argued with her husband—at least not in front of Alaina—but she always made a point of telling Alaina to take his sermon-like advice with a grain of salt.

  “I’m sorry we can’t go in since they’re closed,” he said. “But we can come back tomorrow if you want.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Alaina wasn’t sure she wanted to chance a second foray into town. One visit was risky enough, and as she eyed a couple walking toward them, she wondered if it had been a stupid idea.

  She tensed as they neared the couple, but the strangers only waved and nodded as they continued on their way. “Do you know them?” she asked Evan.

  “I don’t think so, but everyone’s friendly in Ribbon Ridge.”

  She relaxed and mentally chastised herself for being automatically distrustful. Not everyone was a rabid paparazzo or a nosy blogger. “And why wouldn’t they be friendly? It’s just about the cutest town I’ve ever seen. And so picturesque, with the hills and gorgeous vistas surrounding it. It’s postcard perfect.”

  He pointed down a street they came to. “The next block there is the park where we hold our annual Oktoberfest, as well as the Ribbon Ridge Festival.”

  “Oooh, when’s that? Sounds fun.”

  “It does?” He slid her a glance and a half-smile. “You don’t even know what it involves.”

  “No, but I’m already half in love with the town, and how can you go wrong with the word ‘festival’? I’m assuming there’s Archer beer, local wine, and lots of great food.”

  “That’s about it. Plus local artisans selling their stuff and, of course, live music.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like a great time. You didn’t tell me when it was.”

  “July. Why, are you planning to come back?”

  “Maybe.” She was beginning to think she ought to buy a house up here. Hadn’t she just been thinking she needed a new West Coast retreat away from LA? “Especially if you promise to take me.”

  “Uhhhh . . . Those sort of events aren’t generally my thing.”

  Disappointment stabbed through her chest. She loved those sorts of things. A carnival had rolled through Blueville a couple of times when she was a kid, and she’d spent practically every hour of every day just walking around and soaking up the atmosphere and watching the people. She of course hadn’t had any money to do much else. She turned her head to look at him. “How come?”

  “Too many people. Too much noise. Just too.”

  She thought of the wine tasting last weekend and how she’d startled him with just a whisper next to his ear. A crowded event was probably torture. “That’s a bummer.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Eh, I don’t miss it.”

  I would. She tried to picture him at any of the typical events she attended in her professional life. And . . . she couldn’t. If she’d decided to do the Oscars, could he have gone as her date? She didn’t think he’d want to.

  Whoa, take a step back Alaina. You just met this guy. You’re having fun. You’re not introducing him to your world. Aside from the fact that he’d probably rather have his fingernails pulled off than deal with the drama of your life, you can’t just show up with some guy—he’d be absolutely inundated with intrusive press.

  And she wouldn’t wish that on her enemy, let alone a guy she really liked.

  Besides, it didn’t matter since she’d declined the Oscar gig. Crystal had been surprised, and she’d said Isaac was going to be irritated, but Alaina couldn’t plan her life around other people’s reactions. She’d done that for far too long.

  “Let’s cross the street here.” He gripped her hand more tightly and looked both ways before leading her across to The Arch and Vine.

  Her stomach made a low growl as the scent of food hit her. “I think our afternoon activities made me really hungry.”

  He laughed, sending her a quick glance. “Is that right?”

  She giggled as they approached the door. An old-fashioned sign, like one that would be seen at a medieval pub in Great Britain, hung over the door, which was surrounded by a stone arch. “Do all of the pubs have arches?”

  He let go of her hand and opened the door for her. “Of course.”

  She stepped inside to a welcome blast of heat but didn’t remove her scarf. Not until they got to the secluded back area.

  “Hey there!” Chloe Sumner approached them. Alaina had learned the other night that Chloe waited tables here once in a while and was also the art director for the pubs.

  Alaina eyed the trompe l’oeil depicting a medieval street that covered the left-hand wall. “That’s incredible. Did you do that?”

  Chloe shook her head. “No, that was before my time. Rob’s uncle used to be the art director. I’ve only touched up stuff at the existing pubs. My first stab at creating new stuff will be up at The Alex. I’m starting in the restaurant next week.” She lowered her voice. “I’m a little nervous.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be gorgeous. I’d love to see what you have planned.”

  “Sure. I’d be happy to share. The more feedback I get, the better.”

  Alaina laughed. “Oh, I don’t know that I have anything valuable to share. I can’t draw to save my life! Which is maybe why I appreciate the talent so much.”

  “Well, I can’t act—I tried in high school, but it was an utter disaster—so we all have our skills.” She grinned at Alaina and tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your table.”

  Alaina retook Evan’s hand before following Chloe. The pub wasn’t very full, but then, it was Tuesday night. No one paid much attention to them as they passed, which is just the way Alaina liked it.

  They moved behind a screen to the corner of the pub. Sean and Tori were already at the table, their backs to the wall. Sean stood. “Hi. Alaina, is that you under there?”

  She
pulled the scarf away. “Ta-da! Not much of a trick, but it’s all I have. I didn’t bring any of my wigs or my sunglasses that pretty much cover half my face.” Which had been stupid in retrospect. “I admit I left in kind of a hurry.”

  “Please, sit,” Sean said.

  Evan held her chair, and she gave him an appreciative glance before she sat down. He was such a gentleman. He’d probably even impress her grandfather. Too bad they’d never meet.

  “What do you think of Ribbon Ridge?” Tori asked.

  Alaina set her scarf over the back of her chair and pulled off her gloves, then tucked them into her purse, which she also hung over the back of her chair. She toyed with taking off the hat, but decided she just couldn’t part with the last bit of her disguise. “It’s adorable,” Alaina said. “Evan was telling me about Oktoberfest and the Ribbon Ridge Festival. Sounds fun.”

  “You should come back. They’re both fantastic, but I’d be remiss in my duties as an Archer if I didn’t give the slight edge to Oktoberfest, since it’s our event.”

  “Having been to Oktoberfest, I can tell you it’s incredible,” Sean said. “Kyle’s fondue is can’t-miss.”

  “Yum, I love fondue. Any chance he’ll make some while I’m here?”

  “Oooh, that’s a great idea,” Chloe said. “I’ll ask him to do a fondue dinner next Sunday. But that means you have to stay at least that long.”

  Alaina was beginning to think she might never leave. She snuck a sideways glance at Evan. He was studying the menu and being typically quiet. She noticed he didn’t say much when there were more people around. What she didn’t know was whether he took a sideline approach on purpose, for comfort’s sake, or if there was some other reason for his disengagement. That maybe wasn’t the right word. She thought he was engaged, but honestly, she couldn’t tell. She made a note to ask him.

  She heard Tori laugh softly and turned to see her and Sean with their heads bent together. The moment turned fuzzy, almost surreal, as she pictured herself nestled in this cozy life. Her lips curved into a smile . . .

  Hold on. She existed in a bubble here, and it couldn’t go on indefinitely. She had a life in LA, including a fertility doctor who was going to try to knock her up next month. What the hell was she doing?