McFarlane's Perfect Bride (3 page)

Allaire guessed, “You found a place.”

Haley beamed wider. “The price is right and it's just down the street.”

Tori thought she knew where. “That vacant storefront down the block from the Hitching Post?”

“That's the one. I met with the property manager, made an offer that's a little lower than what they're asking.”

“And?”

“The owner's not in town. The property manager will consult with him and I should get my answer in the next few weeks.” Haley hugged herself. “I can just feel it, you know? This is it.”

Haley Anderson had a dream. Her dream was called ROOTS. It was to be a sort of Outward Bound/Big Brother organization to help troubled teens. Getting the storefront would mean she had a home base from which to launch the program.

She asked Allaire, “Did you talk with the principal?” She meant at the high school.

Allaire nodded. “He said to bring him a proposal when you're all set up. He really can't do much until then. You should definitely be able to put up flyers around the school, though. I mean, once you're up and running and can show what you're offering.”

“Of course. I understand.” Haley gave a nervous laugh. “I guess I'm kind of getting ahead of myself.”

Tori reached over and squeezed her hand. “It's good to think ahead. And it's a fine project, an important one.”

“We'll help all we can,” Allaire promised.

Haley went on beaming. “I knew I could count on you two.”

The little bell over the door chimed again. It was Melanie Chilton. Ignoring Tori's warning look, Allaire waved her over.

“Join us.” Allaire gave Connor's sister a big, sweet smile.

“Only for a minute.” Melanie slid in next to Tori. “I've got to get back to the Hopping H.” The waitress appeared. They all ordered, with Melanie asking for hers to go. When the waitress left, Melanie asked Allaire, “So how was the weekend reunion?”

“The
mini
reunion,” Allaire corrected. “Just the local Traubs and Corey and Dillon. It went great. Both of DJ's cousins say they'll be back in town soon.”

“Tell DJ we loved the barbecue. We had a wonderful time.”

“So I heard,” said Allaire, sending a meaningful look Tori's way.

Melanie glanced at Tori and then back at Allaire. “Okay. What am I not picking up on here?”

Allaire gave an airy wave of her hand. “Oh, nothing.”

Tori glared at her, mostly in fun. “You are impossible.”

Now Allaire was grinning. “So I've been told.”

“What's going on?” Haley demanded.

Tori realized it was kind of silly to try to keep the date with Connor to herself. Everyone in town would know anyway, after she showed up at the resort with him on Friday night. “Connor asked me out to dinner. I said yes. It's not a big deal, but Allaire is trying to make it one.”

Melanie blinked. And then she grinned. “I thought there was something going on with you two.”

Tori frowned. Everyone seemed to know something she didn't. “You did?”

Haley asked Melanie, “Connor. That's your brother, right?”

Melanie nodded and told Haley what Tori and Allaire
already knew. “He's in town for the summer.” And then she lowered her voice so only their table could hear. “He's always been…difficult to get along with, at least, for me. He and my father looked down on me. No matter how hard I worked, I was never good enough, never
man
enough, to be an equal partner in McFarlane House Hotels. But Connor's been surprising me lately. He's different, since his divorce, since he and our father had to sell a couple of failing locations, including the new Atlanta hotel, just to stay afloat.”

“You're saying you believe Connor's changed?” asked Allaire, sounding annoyingly doubtful.

“I do,” said Melanie. “Or at least, he's not nearly as overbearing as he used to be. Now and then, in the past few days, I even get the feeling he's actually listening to me. And to Russ.” And then she chuckled wryly. “My father, though. Donovan McFarlane is a man who'll never change.”

 

“Thunder Canyon, Montana,” Donovan McFarlane growled in disgust. “It's a black hole, Connor, and you know it.”

Connor reminded himself to breathe slowly and evenly. He ordered his fingers to hold the phone more loosely. “I can get a good deal on the resort. But I need a little time to work on Caleb Douglas, to show him how the best decision for him is to sell.”

“McFarlane House does not need a resort in some tiny Montana town. I've seen the numbers on that location. They're not good, trending down.”

“Everything's trending down lately.”
Even McFarlane House,
Connor thought. “Once we're in charge, we'll start making the necessary changes to get the resort in the
black again. We'll cut back, at first, focus on the strongest services, get rid of any staff that isn't ready to—”

“Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but I don't like it. First your sister, and now you. Throwing over your life work, your
heritage.
”

“Dad. I'm not throwing anything over.”

As usual, Donovan wasn't listening “—your sister with her ridiculous dude ranch, you with your sudden burning need to buy that failing resort.”

“The Hopping H is doing very well, thanks, Dad. And we agreed that the resort could work for us.”

“I agreed to no such thing. I do not care in the least about that resort. I want you back here in Philadelphia right away. I need you here.” It was a bald-faced lie. Donovan McFarlane could run the McFarlane House corporate office with one hand tied behind his back and a bag over his head.

“I'll be there next week for the monthly—”

“Not next week. Now. You're welcome to stay with us until you can find another house. Your mother would be only too happy to have you nearby again. Why you had to give Jennifer
your
house is beyond me.”

“It was her house, too, Dad.”

“What about the prenup? We both know what that prenup said. She had no right to that house. And then she went and sold it, anyway.”

“Dad, let's not rehash all this again.”

“All right. Come home. You could have at least kept that condo.”

“Dad. We discussed this. I sold the condo because when I come back in the fall, I'm going to find another house.”

“I've reevaluated and I want—”

“Well, I haven't. Except for the specific meetings and catch-up visits we agreed on two weeks ago, I'm here in Thunder Canyon for the summer with my son.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line. A deadly one. Finally, Donovan said, “You could just send Connor Jr. back to school. A summer without distractions, time to focus on his studies. Do the boy a world of good.”

“Dad.”

“Ahem. What is it?”

“I'm spending the summer here in Thunder Canyon and so is CJ. End of discussion.”

“You're very stubborn. You don't get that from me.”

Connor almost laughed. It would have been a sound with zero humor in it. “I have to go now, Dad. See you next week.” Connor disconnected the call before his father could start issuing more orders.

And then he just stood there, in the study of his rented house, staring blindly out the window at the snowcapped peak of Thunder Mountain in the distance. There had been a time, not that long ago, when he and his dad saw eye to eye on just about every issue.

But now, whenever he talked to Donovan, he hung up wanting to put his fist through a wall. Donovan just didn't get it. Times were changing and a man either swam with the tide or drowned.

Sometimes Connor thought he was a survivor, that he really was changing, working his way toward a better life for himself and the son he'd neglected for too long.

And sometimes he knew he was kidding himself, that
he was actually drowning, going under for the third time and still telling himself he had both feet firmly planted on solid ground.

“R
oses.” The schoolteacher looked up at him through those amazing hazel eyes. “You actually brought flowers.”

He blinked. “What? That's bad?”

“No, of course not. It's lovely.”

He handed them over.

“Thank you.” She said it softly. She seemed to mean it. “I should put them in water, huh?”

“Good idea.”

She stepped back from the doorway. “Come on in.”

So he followed her, admiring the view of her trim backside in a slim-fitting red dress as she led the way through a comfortable-looking great room, back to an open kitchen with turquoise-blue walls and old-fashioned counters of white ceramic tile.

She opened a cupboard by the sink and pointed at
the top shelf. “See that square vase? Could you reach it for me?”

He got it down and she filled it with water and put the roses in it, tugging at them this way and that until she had them arranged to her satisfaction. “So pretty…”

He completely agreed, though it wasn't precisely the flowers he was looking at.

She slanted him a look. “Want a drink? I have a variety of organic juices. And I think I have an old bottle of vodka around here somewhere…a screwdriver. I could make you one of those.” She looked so pleased with herself, he almost said yes, just to stand in her turquoise kitchen and watch her bustling around, mixing the drink for him.

Then again… “I'm not really a screwdriver kind of guy.”

“Well, okay.” She carried the vase over to the breakfast nook and put it in the center of the table. “Ta-da. Looks beautiful.”

“Yes, it does.”

“You ready?”

“After you.”

 

Tori loved the Gallatin Room. She'd only been there a few times, once before on a date and also for a couple of parties. It was the best restaurant at the resort—really, in all of Thunder Canyon—and had a beautiful view of tall, majestic evergreens and the top of Thunder Mountain. It also had a massive stone fireplace, one that wasn't quite as large as the one in the main lobby. But impressive, nonetheless.

The host led them to a really good table, by the fireplace, with a view of the mountain and the spectacular
sky, shot now with orange and gold as the sun set. A waiter came to take their drink orders. Connor ordered Scotch, the really good kind that was older than Tori. She asked for a glass of white wine.

The drinks appeared instantly. They sat and sipped and watched the sunset.

She said what she was thinking. “I love this restaurant.”

His dark eyes made a quick scan of the beautiful room. “It's slow for a Friday evening, don't you think?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“The Scotch is perfect. And the service so far is excellent. It'll be interesting to see how good the food is. As a rule, it's the first thing to slip.”

“Uh, slip?”

He sipped his Scotch slowly. “When traffic declines.”

She knew what he meant, but still she teased, “Traffic?”

He set down his glass and regarded her lazily. “When business slows down.”

She stared at his fingers, which were still wrapped around the crystal glass. They were very nice fingers. Long. Lean. Strong-looking. “Hotelier to the core, huh?”

He didn't deny it. On the contrary, he gave her a rueful smile as he turned his crystal glass and stared down at the amber liquid inside. “I think it's in the blood. My father would certainly say it is.”

She suddenly craved total honesty—no matter how unwise. “Your sister says your father's overbearing. And that he'll never change.”

“Melanie's become way too frank in the past couple of years.”

“I really like frankness in a person. I also heard you're in town to buy out this resort, after which you'll change everything around and fire half the staff.”

“Who said that?” His voice was flat.

“It doesn't matter. Is it true?”

“Don't believe every rumor you hear.” He studied her—a long, considering look.

“You're not going to answer my question, are you?” She sipped her wine again, set the glass down. “Never mind. I think you
are
in town to buy this resort. Feel free to tell me I'm wrong.”

He staunchly refused to confirm or deny her suspicions. “I'm here to spend time getting to know my sister and her family. And above all, for my son. I've neglected CJ for much too long. I'm hoping it's not too late to heal the breach between us.”

She believed he was telling the truth about his son. “It's not too late,” she said softly. “It's never too late.”

Those dark eyes went soft—but only for a split second. And then they were cool and watchful again. “You're an optimist.”

“And proud of it.” She picked up the leather-bound menu and set it back down without opening it. “It matters, Connor. That you care about your son, that you
show
him you care. And I admire you for figuring out that you need to spend time with him, no matter how long it took you to realize that.”

His gaze was locked hard on hers. “I didn't figure it out. Not by myself, anyway. If my ex-wife hadn't demanded that I take him for the summer, I wouldn't have.”

“But you did take him. You could have simply refused.”

He almost smiled. “You insist on making me seem a better man than I am.”

“Hey.” She raised her glass to him. “Gives you something to live up to.”

He did smile then. And he picked up his menu and opened it to study the offerings within. She opened hers, too.

The waiter appeared when they set their menus down again. They ordered. Connor asked for a bottle of cabernet to go with the meal.

The wine steward hustled over to confer with Connor. Once the choice was made, the wine had to be tasted. Connor nodded his approval. The waiter served them each a glass. He left the bottle, wrapped in a white cloth, within easy reach.

The food came—appetizers, salads and then the main course. Connor had prime rib, she had the trout. Tori found it all delicious, every last bite. If the quality was going downhill, she couldn't tell.

He asked her about her childhood. She told him of her mother's early death and her father's extended depression following the loss.

“Must have been a hard time.”

“It was. But we got through it.” She spoke of her half brothers and her stepmother. “My dad's happy now. It all worked out.”

“What does your dad do?”

“He's a psychiatrist in Denver. Nowadays he does a lot of pro bono work, helping people deal with grief after the loss of a loved one.”

“He would be the one to understand what they're going through, huh?”

“Yes. He understands.”

“You admire him.”

“I do. Very much.”

“You were raised in…?”

“Denver, mostly. I moved here about three years ago.”

“And you love it.”

“Yep. I plan to live in Thunder Canyon till I'm old and gray.”

Eventually, the talk got back around to CJ. He said, “My brother-in-law wants CJ to go to work part-time at the Hopping H.”

“Doing…?”

“Whatever's needed. Dishes. Clearing tables after meals, feeding livestock.”

“You sound reluctant.”

“I have been, yeah. But lately I'm thinking maybe a job would be a good thing, a way to make sure CJ has a little structure, you know?”

“I think it's a great idea. Teaches him responsibility, gives him a schedule he has to keep. And a little extra pocket change. What's not to like?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” His eyes were soft again. Was that admiration she saw in them? Maybe so, because then he said, “I like the way you dress. In bright colors. Kind of…fun.” The way he said
fun
made her absolutely certain that there hadn't been a lot of that in his life.

“I like things bright,” she said. “And cheerful.”

“And optimistic.”

“Yep. That, too.” She wondered about his ex-wife,
about what had happened between them that it didn't work out.

But no way was she asking about the ex on a first date. She'd been out with enough men to know the red flags, and a guy talking too much about his ex when a woman hardly knew him was definitely a bad sign. Usually that meant he wasn't over the other woman yet.

He said, “You're looking much too thoughtful.”

“Just considering the various conversational booby traps.”

“Such as?”

“If I told you, you'd probably only wish I hadn't—and if you
didn't
wish I hadn't, that would be a total red flag.”

“I think I'm confused.”

“I think I've been on too many first dates.”

He laughed. “What? Things never work out for you romantically? I have a hard time believing that.”

“Was that compliment?”

“Only the truth as I see it.”

She felt absurdly flattered. And her cheeks were warm. And she could sit there forever, looking across the table into Connor McFarlane's sexy, dark eyes, letting the sound of his deep, warm voice pour over her. She said, “It's not that things don't work out for me. It's just, I rarely say no to a first date. So I go on quite a few.”

“And second dates?”

“I look at it this way. A first date is one thing. But why say yes to a second when the spark isn't there?”

His gaze remained locked with hers. “I completely agree.”

The waiter came and whisked away their plates. He
offered dessert. They both passed, but he had coffee and she took hot tea.

Connor said, “So tell me about Jerilyn. What's her background?”

Something in the way he said that,
What's her background?
had Tori snapping to wary attention. “Jerilyn's a terrific person. Brilliant. Loving. Thoughtful. A straight-A student.”

He sipped his coffee. “You sound defensive.”

“And you sound like a snob trying to find out if Jerilyn's
background
measures up.”

“Tori.” His voice was gentle, understanding, even. “She seems like a fine girl.”

“She
is
a fine girl.”

“And yes, I was wondering about her background.”

She poured Earl Grey from the small china teapot into an eggshell-thin cup. “Similar to mine, actually. Her mom died a year ago and her father's having trouble coping.”

“What does her father do?”

She looked into his eyes again. And she did not smile. “Butch Doolin is the maintenance engineer at the high school.”

“The janitor, you mean.”

“It's honest work, Connor.”

“Did I say it wasn't?”

Instead of answering him, she sipped her tea. When she gently set the cup back in the saucer, she said, “CJ likes Jerilyn, a lot.”

“I noticed.”

“And she likes him.”

“He's too young for a girlfriend.” His voice was gruff.

She argued, “He's old enough to be interested in a girl—in Jerilyn, specifically—which means he's not too young.”

“I just don't want him getting into anything serious. Not at his age.”

“And especially not with a janitor's daughter.” She didn't even try to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

He sat very still, watching her face. Finally he said, “You're angry.”

“Yes. I just saw a side of you I don't like. The elitist side.”

“A person's background does matter.” His voice was coaxing and kind. She wished she could agree with him, because she really did like him, was seriously attracted to him.

Talk about sparks…

But she couldn't pretend to agree when she didn't. “Background matters up to a point, yes. I wish it didn't, but I'm at least something of a realist. However, what matters most is who that person is. And Jerilyn Doolin is everything I just said she was and more. She's a special girl. It says a lot about your son that he would show the good taste and judgment to have his first big crush on someone like her.”

He sat back in his chair and put up both hands. “Okay. I give up. You've convinced me. Jerilyn Doolin is a wonderful girl. CJ is lucky she's interested in him.”

Most of her defensive tension drained away. She hid a triumphant smile. “About time you realized that.”

“Maybe so.” He still looked doubtful.

“But?”

“I'm just not happy about it. CJ can't afford the distraction.”

“Distraction? Boys have been falling for girls since the beginning of time. That's not going to change just because you're not happy about it.”

“The last thing CJ needs right now is to get too involved with a girl—any girl.”

“Connor, he likes her. She likes him. You can't make that go away. In fact, in my experience, which is reasonably extensive given that I work with teenagers for a living, the more the parents try to come between a young couple, the more the attraction grows.” Tori spoke with intensity. With passion, even.

He was staring at her, frowning.

Was she becoming a little too emotional over this? Maybe. But she really believed what she was saying and she wanted to get through to the hardheaded man across from her, to get him to understand. She feared if he didn't, he would only be making things worse for CJ.

“Romeo and Juliet,”
she declared vehemently. “
Wuthering Heights, Titanic.
Think of all the books and plays and movies about passionate, thwarted young love. It only leads to heartbreak when the grown-ups decide to interfere.”

He leaned toward her again. “So, Tori.”

“What?” she demanded hotly.

“Tell me what you
really
think.”

She blinked. And then she laughed. He laughed, too. “Okay,” she admitted. “I try to be open-minded, but when I really believe something, I advocate for it, you know?”