McFarlane's Perfect Bride

by Christine Rimmer

  “Yeah,” she answered breathlessly, her eyes bright as stars. “Guess so.”

  “So, then. I get a second date, right?”

  Her expression turned a little bit sad. “Connor. It’s problematic. You know it is.”

  He told her the straight-ahead truth. “I want to see you again—and not so you can help me out with CJ.”

  Her eyes widened. But then her soft mouth twisted. “It’s only—”

  “Say it. Tell me. I can’t overcome your objections if you don’t tell me what they are.”

  “Oh, Connor. You’re here for the summer and then you’ll be gone.”

  “Just like CJ, with Jerilyn. Why is that okay for them, but not for us?”

  “Well, because they’re kids and we’re not.”

  “And because we’re not kids, we have to live for the future. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “No, not exactly. I’m just saying that a summer romance is one thing for two fifteen-year-olds. For adults, it’s—”

  “What? You won’t let yourself live in the moment just because you’re all grown up?”

  She laughed. “You know, Connor. You can be incredibly persuasive when you put your mind to it.”

  Triumph flared within him, a sudden bright heat. He was sure he had her. “So that means you’ll come with us?”

  She glanced out toward the velvety night beyond the porch, and then met his eyes again. “There’s something else.”

  The flare of triumph died. But he refused to give up. “Tell me.”

  “I…get a sense that you’re a good man deep down. But, well, you’re still one of those guys who think they own the world, someone who doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as he gets what he wants.”

  Apparently one of her friends had been saying harsh things about him. Probably whichever friend had told her he was trying to buy out the resort. He wasn’t particularly surprised. “Ouch,” he said lightly. “Don’t feel you have to pull any punches.”

  “I don’t. I won’t.”

  “I noticed.” He still wasn’t giving up. “You do believe I’m an okay guy—at least, essentially, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Forget the buts. Just go with that. After all, it’s only a second date. Being essentially a good guy should be enough to get me a second date with you—I mean, given the all-important presence of the spark.”

  “You are incredibly persistent, you know that?”

  “I can be, when I want something bad enough.”

  She moistened her lips. “Um, how bad is bad enough?”

  He thought again about another kiss. But he didn’t try for one. He only gazed down at her, steadily, trying his best to look both determined and hopeful.

  She sighed. “You’re right, I suppose.”

  “Of course I am,” he declared with firmness. And then he arched a brow at her. “Er, right about what?”

  That soft mouth was trying really hard not to smile. “Well, that it’s only a second date. And there is the spark—”

  “Exactly. Come with us on Sunday.”

  She did smile then. For Connor, that smile was like the sun coming out on a rainy day. “Yes,” she said. “All right.”

  Now he had what he wanted, he almost couldn’t believe it. He stared down at her, speechless. “What are you thinking?” she demanded, when several seconds had passed without a single word from him.

  “You said yes.”

  “You’re surprised?” Her eyes sparkled.

  “I guess I am.”

  “Well, Connor, you were very convincing—but there is a condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “I’m inviting Jerilyn, too.”

  Chapter Four

  Connor drove home in a pleasant haze of satisfaction. In spite of her objections, Tori had agreed to a second date. He felt pleased all out of proportion.

  And Sunday wouldn’t be the end of it. There would be a third date. And a fourth. And more after that. He was certain of it. The summer ahead was looking potentially brighter and more enjoyable than he ever would have imagined.

  Until tonight, he’d seen this summer as a series of unpleasant but necessary steps, of things that he needed to do to get his life back on track: to try to get to know his son, to be a better brother to his sister. And to acquire a new property in tough times and make that property profitable in spite of everything.

  Now, there was pleasure involved, too. Because of a certain strawberry-blonde schoolteacher with a cute smattering of freckles across her nose.

  At home, Gerda, his live-in housekeeper, was already in bed. Light bled out from under the door of CJ’s room. Connor listened for the sounds of weapons firing and objects exploding.

  Nothing. Just silence. CJ probably had his headphones on.

  He looked at his watch. Almost one.

  With a weary sigh, he tapped on the door. No answer. He tapped again, louder.

  “What?” Muffled, annoyed, from inside.

  Connor pushed the door open and went in.

  As expected, CJ sat on the end of the bed, fully dressed, wearing headphones and working a controller. “What?” Eyes on the screen, thumbs flying.

  Connor said nothing. He went over and sat next to his son on the bed. He watched the violence on the silent screen while CJ continued to play his game.

  Several minutes passed. Connor felt his own impatience rise. He ignored it. He breathed slowly and evenly and he stared at the screen, sitting absolutely still.

  Finally, CJ paused the game, took off his headphones, and glared at him. “I asked you, what?”

  Connor spoke in a friendly tone. “I had a date with Tori Jones tonight. Had a really good time, too.”

  CJ gaped. For some reason, Connor found his son’s surprise inordinately satisfying. “Ms. Jones? She went out with you?”

  Connor played it cool. “That’s right. And she’s coming with us to the picnic Sunday.”

  “What picnic?” CJ pretended not to remember, though Connor had told him more than once that they were going.

  “Out at the Hopping H.”

  “Oh, great.” Meaning it wasn’t. “Forget it, okay? I’m not going to any picnic out at Aunt Melanie’s ranch.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  CJ slanted him a suspicious look; Connor usually didn’t give in that easily.

  Connor got up and crossed to the door, turning back to deliver the zinger. “I’m sure Jerilyn will be sorry you couldn’t make it.” He stepped over the threshold.

  CJ stopped him before he shut the door behind him. “Okay, wait.”

  Connor faced the room again. “It’s late. Turn off the game and go to sleep.”

  “You’re serious.” CJ squinted at him, as though trying to see inside his head. “Jerilyn will be there.”

  If she accepts Tori’s invitation. “I’m serious.”

  “Okay, fine. I guess I don’t mind going.”

  Connor remembered Tori’s advice. “Another thing.”

  “What?” CJ asked in a guarded mumble.

  “You should ask Jerilyn to come over to the house. And any other new friends you’ve made in town.”

  “What for?”

  “I don’t know, just to…hang out. Plus, I’d like to get to know your friends a little.”

  CJ frowned as he turned Connor’s suggestion over in his mind, no doubt looking for the catch. He found it. “Get to know them? Why? So you can ask them all kinds of questions?”

  Connor suppressed a sigh. “No. Because they’re your friends, that’s all. I would like to meet your friends.”

  CJ thought about that for a minute. Apparently, he found Connor’s reasoning acceptable. He gave out a grudging, “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. And go to bed.”

  “Oh, all right.” CJ grabbed the remote and turned off the flatscreen.

  “Good night,” said Connor, as he pulled the door shut after him.

  Faintly, he heard his son mutter, “Night.�
�

  In the morning, after breakfast, Connor shut the door to his study and called his sister. One of the college girls she had helping out at the ranch for the summer answered the phone.

  “Hi, Mr. McFarlane. She’s in the dining room, visiting with the guests.”

  “Have her call me when she gets a moment.”

  “Hold on. She just came into the kitchen…”

  Then Melanie was on the line. “Connor. Hi.”

  “You sound breathless.”

  “We’ve got a full house.” Even in the lagging economy, she was making the Hopping H pay. “And it’s Saturday breakfast, which is always hectic.”

  “Just called to give you a heads-up. About tomorrow? I invited two more people. I hope that’s okay.”

  “No problem. The more the merrier. Who? Do I know them?”

  “Tori Jones and Jerilyn Doolin.”

  “Ah,” Melanie said. It was a very knowing kind of sound. “What does ah mean?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “Liar.”

  “Well, if you must know, I ran into Tori at the Tottering Teapot last Monday.”

  “The Tottering Teapot. Is that a restaurant?”

  “That’s right. On Main. We all love it.”

  “We?”

  “It’s more of a woman’s kind of place, actually,” she explained. That news didn’t surprise him in the least. “Lots of fresh salads. About a thousand different varieties of tea.”

  “I get the picture,” he said without a lot of enthusiasm. “So you talked with Tori…”

  “I did. She mentioned she was going out with you. And Grant dropped by early this morning. You two were spotted in the Gallatin Room last night.”

  He shook his head, though his sister couldn’t see. “News travels at the speed of light around this town.”

  “It does, absolutely.” Melanie lowered her voice. “Did you enjoy the evening? Isn’t Tori great? I’m glad to see you dating again. It’s about time.”

  “I did. She is. And come on. It’s only been a year since the divorce. For your information, I have dated before last night, though the two other women I spent time with were nothing like Tori Jones.”

  “You never told me.” She faked a hurt tone.

  And suddenly, he could see her as she was at seven or eight years old. A skinny little red-headed thing, wanting attention from her big brother. And never getting it.

  He swallowed down the sudden lump of guilt in his throat and kidded her, “Melanie, no matter how well we get along now, I’m not telling you everything.”

  “And just when I thought I knew all your secrets.” Her joking tone turned distracted. “Hold on a minute…” He heard her giving instructions to someone. Then she came back on the line. “Where were we?”

  “I’m not going to keep you. But I did want to ask…”

  “What? Name it.”

  “About that job offer Russ made, for CJ?”

  “Still open. Just say the word.”

  “Great. But I’m thinking CJ’s more likely to agree to the idea if it comes straight from you—or from anyone but me. Somehow, whatever I say to him nowadays, he thinks it’s an order. An order he’s honor-bound to reject out of hand.”

  “All right, then. Sunday, when the time is right, I’ll offer him a job.”

  Tori called Jerilyn at nine Saturday morning to invite her to the Sunday picnic at Melanie’s guest ranch.

  The teenager answered the phone in tears. “Oh, Ms. Jones, I don’t know what to do…”

  “What? What’s the matter?”

  “Can I…would it be all right if I came over?”

  “Yes. Right now. Do you want me to come and get you?”

  “Oh, no. It’s okay.” The girl paused to stifle a sob. “I can ride my bike. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  When Jerilyn appeared, pedaling fast down the street, Tori was waiting for her, out on the porch.

  “Oh, Ms. Jones…” Jerilyn dropped her bike on the front walk. Fresh tears welled. She ran up the steps and into Tori’s waiting arms.

  Tori pulled the girl inside and shut the door. “Shh…shh. There now. Okay…”

  When the sobbing settled down a little, Tori led her to the sofa, passed the tissues, and got the story out of her.

  “My dad got a warning Thursday. From his supervisor. My dad hasn’t been getting the summer maintenance done. And if his work doesn’t improve in the next two weeks, he’s going to get fired.”

  “Oh, Jerilyn.” Tori hugged her again. “Did your dad tell you this?”

  Jerilyn blew her nose. “No way. He doesn’t tell me anything. I found the warning notice on the kitchen table, wadded up in a ball. And he started drinking Thursday night. He called in sick yesterday. He drank all day, late into last night. He was still at it when I finally went to bed. This morning, he won’t get up. I made breakfast. Just what he likes, scrambled eggs and home fries, sausage and English muffins. I tried to get him up to eat. He just growled at me to leave him alone.”

  “Has he…hit you?” Tori hated to ask, but she knew that she had to. “Or hurt you in any way?”

  Jerilyn sobbed and shook her head. “Oh, no. He just sits at the kitchen table and drinks and doesn’t say anything. Sometimes…he cries.”

  Tori grabbed her close again. “Aw, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.” As she gave out the familiar litany of reassurances, she knew that in reality, it wasn’t okay. Not okay in the least.

  “He would never hurt me.” Jerilyn swallowed more sobs. “Except that when he loses his job and we can’t pay the bills and…well, that will hurt me. That will hurt me really bad.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  Jerilyn sagged against Tori with a long, sad sigh. “Yeah. It is. It is going to happen.”

  Tori took her by the shoulders. “Look at me. Do you trust me?”

  “You know I do. Totally.”

  “I’m going to call someone who can help, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to bring your dad back to you, to make sure he doesn’t lose his job.”

  Jerilyn blinked away the tears. “Who are you going to call?”

  “Someone who’s been through exactly what your dad’s going through. Someone who managed to survive. Someone who will know what to do.”

  Tori’s father, Dr. Sherwood Jones, caught a one-o’clock flight to Bozeman and rented a car. By four that afternoon, he was sitting in Tori’s living room.

  “I can’t promise anything,” he warned a pale-faced Jerilyn, who looked at him through red, puffy eyes. “And I can’t even talk to him unless he’s sober.”

  “He should be, by now. Unless he’s started in drinking again.”

  “You say he’s never hit you or been in any way violent with you?”

  “No. He wouldn’t. He…hasn’t. Not ever. He’s just so sad and lonely for my mom. They were always so close. She was his very best friend in the world. Without her…it’s killing him, Dr. Jones. It’s hurting him so deep.”

  “I understand.” He glanced over at Tori, who sat across the coffee table from him and Jerilyn. Tori gulped down the sudden lump in her throat. Her dad did understand. They both did. He told Jerilyn. “Tori and I lost her mother when Tori was a couple of years younger than you are.”

  Jerilyn’s eyes filled with tears again. She turned her gaze to Tori and tried a wobbly smile. “I know. Ms. Jones told me that, right after my mom died.”

  Sherwood clasped Jerilyn’s shoulder. “I think we should go to your house now, see if maybe your dad is sober, and willing to talk with me. Are you okay with doing that?”

  Jerilyn’s dark eyes were wide—and determined. “Yes. I think we should. We should go now.”

  “Well, all right then,” Sherwood said, with that gentle smile that always warmed Tori’s heart.

  They were at the front door when the phone rang. Tori told them, “I’ll just get that and be out in
a sec.”

  Her dad and Jerilyn headed for the car as Tori answered the phone on the side table in the great room.

  It was Connor. “I just called to tell you I really hope Jerilyn said yes about tomorrow. I told CJ she would be there and suddenly he can’t wait to go to a picnic at the Hopping H.”

  His voice, so warm, threaded with wry humor, made her wish he was there, right then, at her side. She would lean into him and he would put his strong arms around her and she would feel she could handle anything, even the rough family problems of her star student—and what was she thinking?

  He was never going to be the kind of man she could lean on. She really had to remember that. He was leaving when summer was over—and in the meantime, he was going to cause trouble in the town that she loved.

  “Tori? You there?”

  “Right here. I…haven’t invited her yet.”

  “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “It’s a long story, one I just don’t have time to go into right now.”

  “What can I do? Anything.”

  She almost smiled. When he talked like that, so ready to rush to her side if she needed him, she could almost forget that in his real life, he was a ruthless corporate shark determined to buy out the Thunder Canyon Resort and throw a bunch of people out of work. “No, really. Thank you.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “No. Don’t worry, please. It’s not about me. I’m perfectly okay. And I’ll explain it all later. Right now, I have to go.”

  “Call me. As soon as you can. I mean it.”

  “Yes. All right. I’ll call this evening. I promise.” She said a hurried goodbye and then rushed out to join and Jerilyn and Sherwood in his rental car.

  Jerilyn lived in a small, run-down house in a South New Town neighborhood that had seen better days. The siding needed fresh paint and the porch boards creaked.

  Inside, they found Butch Doolin sitting at the cluttered kitchen table in a T-shirt and a ragged pair of sweatpants. His bloodshot eyes were puffy from too much alcohol the day before and he sported a couple of days’ worth of dark beard.

  But he had a cup of coffee in front of him—no liquor in sight. He looked hungover, but sober.