Chapter Eleven

“Are you ready?” Wyatt asked.

Tori’s chest rose as she sucked in a deep breath. She pulled her shoulders back and sat up tall. He’d seen her do it enough times before—that first meeting with Georgina Bedland, breakfast with Dani and Collin—to recognize what he liked to call her battle stance. She nodded, her game face set as she let her mouth fall open.

Wyatt nodded back, then flicked his wrist, letting loose the orange cheese ball held delicately in his fingers. It flew through the air between them in a smooth arc before it bounced off her chin and fell into her lap.

“You’re not focusing.” They were sitting in the bed of his truck on the hill at the southern edge of town. The sun was slowly setting behind the old rope mill farther up on the hill behind them, surrounding them in shadow as the sky grew darker above them. Beyond the hill, the ocean stretched off into the distance.

“I am too focusing.” The words came out low and grumbled, but at least she was smiling.

He’d been about seventy percent confident that his plan would work. But there was always that other thirty percent chance that he’d judged her wrong and Tori was not the kind of woman who appreciated throwing cheese balls into people’s mouths. Luckily for him, she actually seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Did it ever occur to you,” she said slowly, “that maybe you just have really bad aim?”

Wyatt snorted. “Good to see your trash talk is as bad as your cheese ball skills.”

She chucked a cheese ball harder than necessary. It nailed him in the forehead and ricocheted. Tori shrugged innocently. “Oops. I thought you were ready.”

He grinned, saying nothing before he opened his mouth expectantly. She tossed another cheese ball and missed him entirely.

“What was that about my aim?”

“It was the wind.”

“Uh-huh.”

She scowled at him through bright green eyes. It had become a habit of his, checking the color of her eyes anytime he saw her. So far he’d yet to see the blue he was sure he’d seen that night at the park. He had a theory that maybe it had something to do with the color of clothes she wore. But even in the blue baseball T-shirt, which he had to admit she looked adorable in, her eyes were still green. Not that her green eyes were any less mesmerizing. But it had become a mystery he spent way too much time thinking about.

“So if 'Gossip Girl' isn’t your thing, what show would you consider Friday night bingeworthy?”

“You really want to know?” she asked, and he nodded, genuinely interested in hearing her answer. “I like 'American Horror Story.'”

“You’re kidding.”

She shrugged. “I’ve loved horror and scary movies ever since I first saw 'The Shining' as a teenager.”

“But you’re a wedding planner. Aren’t you supposed to be into romantic comedies and that kind of stuff?”

“Sometimes, I guess. But because I am a wedding planner, I have to live in that romance bubble almost twenty-four seven. Horror films help me take a break from that.”

Wyatt shook his head. He wasn’t sure if this new development made him like her more or less. No, that wasn’t true. It was definitely more.

“And what about you?” she asked. “Are you telling me you like to sit around watching romance movies all day?”

“Sure, why not? I also watch action/adventure, classics, thrillers. I’ll watch just about anything, really.”

“Even horror?” she asked.

“Yes.” Though he couldn’t say it was his favorite in the mix of genres. Or even in his top five. “I grew up on all kinds of movies and books. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, so I usually had to find a way to entertain myself. In my sister’s own words, I was a bit of a dork as a kid, kind of awkward around others. I still get nervous talking to people sometimes.”

“You seem to talk to me just fine.”

He did. And that was another mystery he couldn’t solve. He’d never been the type to open up to people. He usually stayed quiet. It was easy to stay out of the spotlight that way. But he didn’t mind when Tori noticed him. He’d wanted her to. It was why he’d even had the nerve to talk to her in the first place, even if it was something as lame as, “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

“I don’t know if I’d call you a dork exactly, but the T-shirts certainly point in that direction.”

He stared down at his shirt, a black one with two stick figures, one missing the line that was his torso while the other held it up in the air saying, “I’ve got your back.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“Nothing. It’s just one of those jokes that’s funny, but only in like a ‘meh’ way, you know? Only kind of funny.”

He stared at her. “Kind of funny?” He pointed at his T-shirt. “This is hilarious.”

Tori’s lips curled. “You’re one of those dad joke guys, aren’t you?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Really? Then why don’t we test that theory, shall we?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t the bicycle want to stand up on its own?”

Wyatt shrugged.

She held up two fingers. “Because it was two tired.”

Wyatt bit down, but it didn’t stop a snort from escaping. Then a full-belly laugh burst from his lips before he could even try to temper it. “Okay, that was a good one.”

Tori shook her head, still smiling. “I take it back. You are a dork.” She grabbed a handful of peanut butter cups. “What was your favorite movie when you were a kid?”

“'Indian in the Cupboard,' hands down. I still remember coming home and watching it almost every day in the second grade. Especially whenever my parents were traveling for work. I’d watch that movie; Gammie would bring me a glass of orange soda. It was my favorite, and it always made me feel better.” To this day he still got a craving for orange soda whenever he was feeling down.

“Sounds like Gammie was there a lot for you.”

“She was. She probably played a bigger role in raising me than my mom or dad did. Not that I begrudge them it or anything. Gammie’s the best.”

She nodded, staring at the brick and mortar factory on the hill behind them. “Hey, what is this place?”

“Old rope mill built in the eighteen hundreds. Became a textile mill after World War II, and then stopped being used altogether in the seventies.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Wyatt grinned. He didn’t disagree. “I like to come up here and take pictures whenever I’m feeling stressed, imagine all the different stories that must have taken place here.”

“I can see why.” She searched around them, both up and down the hill, stared at the narrow river over on their left that ran next to the mill and down toward the ocean. “Are we trespassing?”

“Nah, I’m friends with the family that owns this place. They don’t mind me hanging around.”

“How long are they going to let it sit here doing nothing? It looks like too good a space to waste like this.”

“Oh, it is. They’ve fixed it up for the most part, but I think they’re still trying to figure out what to do with it. There’s so much potential, but they want to do something that will hold up in the long run.”

“Well, I’m excited to see what it becomes someday. I bet it’ll be amazing.” She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, her smile lingering as she continued to stare up at it. She looked peaceful, so much more relaxed than the last few times he’d seen her, just glimpses here and there as she ran around town on errands. He’d give her this much; she certainly knew how to stay busy.

He wished he had his camera to capture this moment of calm. Was it foolish to hope that his presence had something to do with it? That she simply enjoyed being near him as much as he did her?

It was why he’d turned around and gone back to her in the market. It had been almost a week since he’d last spoken to her, and he’d nearly forgotten how much he enjoyed it. Being with Tori was easy, fun. He hadn’t wanted it to end just yet. It wasn’t like he’d had any real plans that night, and from the way she’d talked about hers, he at least had a shot. So he’d gone for it, invited her to hang out for a little bit. Nothing special, just two almost-friends enjoying each other’s company. And man, was he enjoying it.

“Hey.” Tori glanced his way, and he held up a cheeseball.

She straightened where she sat, dropping her knees in a crisscross fashion. Her mouth fell open, only for him to miss again.

“This is why we’re wedding planners and not athletes.”

She snickered. “You’re not wrong about that.” She reached into the plastic jar of cheeseballs. After replenishing her stash, she tossed one to his waiting mouth. It sailed through the air, hitting its target dead center.

Tori’s hands shot up in the air as a wide grin spread across her face. “Yes! In your face, Rhoades.”

The cheese ball crunched loudly in his mouth. He clapped slowly. “Now that’s what I expect from Iron Arm Schaefer.”

“Iron arm?”

“Oh yeah. From imaginary Little League games to the highly competitive sport of cheese ball mouth toss, this woman can do it all.”

She scowled at him, but the gesture was swiftly replaced with laughter. Her face lit up like its own little sun, and for a second there, her eyes looked like they took on the tiniest hint of blue.

“And to think you wanted to spend the night at home watching TV.”

“I wouldn’t say wanted to so much as needed to.”

“Why need?”

Her grin wavered. She bit her lip, indecision flickering in her eyes. She stared out over the ocean while the silence stretched, on the verge of pulling away like she had outside her office.

“Tori,” he said softly. Slowly, her eyes slid up to meet his. “Just for tonight, can we pretend that we’re back on that beach, before we became work enemies, and just talk? Without worrying if the other is going to use it against them?”

Her head tilted forward, and she stared down at her hands. “Do you think we can?”

“I really do.” And he wanted to so badly. He hated that something was wrong with her almost as much as he hated this feeling that he could do nothing to fix it unless she let him try. “Let’s start with something easy. Tell me how you’re really feeling about tomorrow.”

“Easy, huh?” Her mouth curved slightly, and he could see her walls coming down. “Honestly, I was a bit of a mess earlier. Up until a few hours ago, I was still sitting in my office, nose buried in my playbook and second-guessing every single decision I’ve made.”

“Playbook?”

“It’s a notebook full of ideas and details from all my other weddings. I’ve been using it to help me get this pitch just right. Today I was doubting whether it would all be enough.”

“It’s normal to be nervous.”

“I know that. And after a quick talk with Lettie, I feel a lot better about all of it.”

“Yeah? What did she say?”

Tori grinned. “She just reminded me how amazing I am at my job.”

“She’s not wrong,” he admitted. “I’ve seen your stuff, what you’re capable of.”

“You’ve looked into me?”

He shrugged. “Call if professional curiosity.” Even though that was far from the truth. He wished it was merely professional curiosity. “Whatever you’ve got planned, I’m sure it will blow them away.”

“I hope so. This is what I do, what I love to do. I’ve put my all into this proposal, making sure everything is just right so that everyone will love it.”

“I’m sure they will.” And he really meant it. “But in the end, it’s really only Dani’s and Collin’s opinions that matter.”

She shook her head. “It’s not, though,” she said as if it were simple fact. “It’s her parents’ money, which means they have to love it too. And it’s a high-profile event, so it’s not really about the couple so much as the guests and the reporters and all the other big-name people they’re trying to impress. It’s about the show, the impression. It’s the couple’s way of saying ‘this is us, this is our relationship.’ That’s why it has to be perfect.”

“No relationship is perfect.”

“But the whole point is to make people think it is.”

Wyatt shook his head. “That’s crazy.”

“That’s how I’ve been planning weddings for the last decade, and I haven’t heard any complaints so far.”

“But weddings should be about the couples, about the details that make the day special for them. Not anyone else. It’s a celebration of the two people promising to share the rest of their lives. It should be an honest representation of who they are together. That’s what makes it the perfect wedding.”

“While that may work with the smaller weddings you usually do here, this is the type of wedding I’ve been doing my whole career. For people like the Bedlands, it’s all about appearance. Everything in this pitch has to be perfect. And if it’s not, I can kiss any chance at this wedding goodbye. Then I’ll have let down not just myself, but Lettie and Deb. Not to mention my mom and her reputation.”

Wyatt sat silently, taking it all in. He let out a long, heavy breath, not sure what else to say but “Wow.”

“So now you see why there’s so much pressure to get this right.”

He did. He couldn’t even imagine trying to plan a wedding to please so many different people at once. It was a wonder she hadn’t turned into a complete ball of stress this last week, and he had a feeling he’d been underestimating her all this time without even realizing it. The fact that she managed to look so relaxed right now…

Tori smiled softly at him. “Thank you. I needed this tonight. You have no idea.”

“I’m glad my impromptu junk food Olympics could help.”

She giggled. “It really did.”

“You’ll have to tell me how it goes tomorrow. I bet you blow them all away.”

“Thanks.” She picked at a piece of lint on her sweatpants. “You know, you could always come along tomorrow. See it for yourself.”

“You’re serious?”

She nodded. “Unless…do you already have plans?”

“Only if you consider walking my neighbor’s dog. But I’m sure I could pawn His Highness off on someone else.”

“His Highness? Is he spoiled or something?”

“Very. But that’s also his name.”

“Oh.” She laughed, but it was a quiet, heavy sound. She slowly looked up at him. “So do you want to come? I mean, not that I care what you think about it or anything,” she said with a small, teasing smile. “This is purely a professional courtesy. You never know, maybe I’ll end up inspiring you.”

“I’d have to be a fool to turn down that kind of offer.”

Tori bit her lip, her cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink. “It’s settled then.”

“It is. And I know I don’t present my ideas to the Bedlands until Sunday, but my pitch is already set. Going tomorrow wouldn’t change it one way or the other, if you’re worried about that.”

“I’m not.” Her gaze fell to her lap, and she cleared her throat. “I trust you, Wyatt.”

Wyatt reached for her hand, his thumb rubbing a circle over the back of it until she finally looked back up.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me.” He squeezed her hand once before releasing it. “Now”—he grabbed the box of Twinkies from the bag of groceries beside him—“want to see who can fit more of these into their mouth at one time?”

Her answering grin was infinitely brighter than before, warming something in his chest with its heat. “You’re on.”