McFarlane's Perfect Bride / Taming the Montana Millionaire: McFarlane's Perfect Bride

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.

And more than a little surprised to see Jerilyn, her teacher and some man he’d never met before standing in the doorway to his living room. “Jerilyn? What’s going on? “

Tori’s dad stepped right up. “I’m Sherwood Jones, Mr. Doolin. We’re here to see if we can help.”

Butch frowned. “Help?” And then he slowly shook his head. He turned to Jerilyn and spoke with weary resignation. “Sweet girl, what have you been up to?”

Jerilyn put her hand over her mouth, swallowed hard, and then let her hand drop. “Daddy. I saw that warning letter. You’re going to lose your job. I had to do something. You can’t keep on like this.”

Tori had never seen a man so shamed as Butch Doolin was right then. He hung his head. “Sweet girl, I’m so sorry. So damn sorry. I don’t know what to do, how to keep going. Without your mother, it all seems so pointless.” His big shoulders shook.

Jerilyn would have gone to him. But Tori’s dad stopped her. He tipped his head back the way they had come. “You two go ahead,” he said low. “Let me talk to him for a while.” He tossed Tori the keys to the rental car. “I’ll call you …”

Tori took Jerilyn’s hand and led her back out through the small, dim living room. They returned to Tori’s house to wait. Time crawled by. Tori offered dinner, but Jerilyn only shook her head.

Finally, at a little after seven, Tori’s dad called for them to come and get him. Sherwood Jones was waiting for them out in front when they got to Jerilyn’s again.

Jerilyn jumped out. “My dad? Is he …?”

Tori got out, too, and came around to join them on the cracked sidewalk.

“Your dad is okay. And I think he’s going to be a lot better, Jerilyn,” Tori’s dad said. “I think he’s ready to get help. We talked for a long time. He poured out all the booze in the house and he’ll be going to regular AA meetings. Plus I’ve given him the names of a few good counselors he can choose from, as well as a local grief recovery group. And he has my number. I’m always available to him if he needs me.” He gave Jerilyn a card. “And I’m available for you, as well. You can call me here, directly, if there’s anything you want to ask me. And especially if you find yourself worried about him again.”

“You really think he’s going to get better?”

“I do. Sincerely. It’s not going to be easy, but I think you’ll see a definite improvement now.”

Jerilyn let out a low cry and grabbed Tori’s father in a hug. “Thank you, oh, thank you.”

He hugged her back. “Call me if you need help. I mean that.”

Then Tori offered Jerilyn that dinner she hadn’t accepted before, but she was eager to go in, to talk to her dad. She grabbed Tori close, quickly let her go and turned for the house.

Tori remembered the picnic tomorrow. “Wait. I almost forgot. You’re invited to a picnic at the Hopping H tomorrow.”

“Will CJ be there?” The sad dark eyes were suddenly brighter.

“Yeah. But I’m sure he’ll understand, if you’d rather—”

Jerilyn put up a hand. “Please. I want to go. My bike’s at your house. Can you pick me up?”

Tori named a time and Jerilyn said she would be ready.

As Tori and her dad got back in the rental, she offered, “Hungry?”

Her dad shook his head. “Butch gave me a sandwich. And I need to get to Bozeman. There’s a flight to Denver at ten to nine.”

They drove back to Tori’s house.

“That’s one shiny SUV,” her dad said when he pulled to a stop behind the expensive vehicle. “And there’s a man on your porch.”

Tori glanced over and saw Connor sitting on her top step, wearing pricey jeans, expensive boots and a dark-colored knit shirt. The sight of him caused her heart to do a happy somersault inside her chest. Which was ridiculous. And physically impossible. “It’s Connor. He’s … a friend,” she said, sounding absurdly breathless. Connor rose and came down the steps. She added, “I’ll introduce you to him, Dad.”

Connor was already at her side door. She rolled her window down. He was smiling. But his eyes were cool. Maybe he wasn’t all that happy about watching her drive up with a strange man.

“Hey,” he said. “I got worried about you.”

“Connor, this is my father, Dr. Sherwood Jones.”

Suddenly, his dark eyes had warmth in them again. “Dr. Jones. Hello.”

Her dad stuck his arm across the seat. “Good to meet you, Connor.” Connor put out his hand, too. Tori leaned out of the way so they could shake.

Then Sherwood gunned the engine. “I hate to run off. But I have to get a move on or I’ll miss that last flight. And while your stepmother is a very understanding woman, she insists I save Sundays for her and the boys.”

Tori leaned across the console and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime.”