Chapter 19

Tori woke to the smell of coffee. Shoving her hair out of her face, she dragged herself into an upright position on the huge sectional sofa where she’d ended up after thrashing around for a miserable hour in the guest room. Her father smiled at her across a kitchen island slightly larger than Hawaii.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. Did I wake you?”

She rolled her shoulders and yawned. “It’s okay. I need to get home to feed my critters.”

Not technically true, though Fudge would consider himself horribly abused if he didn’t get his morning grain. She’d put out extra hay in the feeder and there was plenty of grass in the pasture. If the cat ran short on food it could hunt up a mouse, or drag down a passing jogger. Her dad strolled over and handed her a cup of coffee, then settled onto the opposite L of the couch with his own mug. They sipped, watching through floor-to-ceiling windows as the streets below slowly came to life. Three blocks away, a refrigerated truck pulled in behind a restaurant. Tori watched the driver angle his trailer up to a loading dock with the ease of long practice. That could be a Sanchez truck. Possibly even Delon.

“So,” she said. “About last night…”

He held up a mollifying hand. “I know. I overstepped. I wanted to get you out of that house, see a little of your old sparkle. Delon just happened to be handy.”

“You knew about us. Before.”

“I knew about all of your friends. For safety purposes.”

And she’d known about his security measures. They’d had an unspoken agreement. She wouldn’t fuss about the surveillance as long as it wasn’t obvious. Now she wanted to squirm. How much had those invisible eyes seen and reported back to her father?

“About Delon…please don’t.”

He gave her a long, piercing look. When she didn’t offer any further explanation, he nodded. They lapsed into silence. Her father crossed one leg over the other, tilting his dangling foot to examine the polished leather shoe. Tori lifted her cup and took a sip to hide her expression from her father’s too-perceptive gaze. Ready or not, her emotions had busted out of their cocoon. It remained to be seen whether they’d be butterflies—or wasps. Her father shifted, planting both feet on the floor and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his serious discussion pose. The back of her neck tightened in alarm.

“Daddy?” she asked tentatively. “Are you okay? You know…physically?”

“What? Oh, yes. I’m fine. Fit as a fiddle.” He stared into his mug for a few beats, then drew a long, deep breath. “I guess I just have to blurt it out…I’m going to ask your mother for a divorce. And this time I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Tori goggled at him. Divorce. Her parents. This time? “You’ve asked her before?”

“Three…no, wait, four times. The first didn’t really count. I was angry and I’d had too much to drink.”

“And this was when?”

He circled the top of the cup with his thumb. “You were ten.”

“You’ve been trying to divorce her for nineteen years?”

“Not continuously.” He gave a helpless shrug. “You know your mother. She starts explaining why it’s a bad idea, and she’s so damn reasonable…by the time she’s done you feel ridiculous and irresponsible and end up apologizing for being selfish.”

Yep. That was her mother. “If you’ve been that unhappy…”

He waved off her concern with a weary hand. “She was right. I had to think of you and your sister. And my career. Early on, a divorce would’ve been a disaster.”

“You’re up for re-election next year.” And two years after that was the presidential election. She could hear her mother now: the calm, maddeningly rational explanations lined with thinly concealed threats. Claire had invested too much into positioning him for the presidency. He would not be allowed to do it without her.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the coffee cup. “I’m pulling my hat out of the ring.”

“Oh.” Oh shit. As a midlife crisis went, this was a doozy. One that would send the political pundits into a nationwide frenzy.

He snuck a glance at her from beneath lowered eyelashes. Testing. Uncertain. Did he want her to talk him into it, or out?

“You’re sure about this?” she asked, careful to keep her voice neutral.

“Politics was never my first choice.” His head came up and the resolve in his voice hardened. “I wanted to stay home and run the ranch, but I did as I was expected. Did it pretty damn well, if I say so myself. I’ve given the public thirty-five years of my life. Now it’s my turn.”

All right, then. No second thoughts there. “Have you told Elizabeth?”

“Not yet.” He flashed a crooked grin. “I started with you, because I knew you’d understand.”

“I…would?”

“You stand up to your mother. To all the family pressure.” He shook his head in wonder. “I was in awe when you left medical school. And then the move to Wyoming. When you up and married Willy…” He grinned, clearly enjoying the memory. “I had the cardiologist on speed-dial the day I passed that news along. When you and I talked on the phone, the happiness just poured out of you. And then I’d hang up and go back to my day full of people who have a use for me, but no one who really cares. No one who lights me up that way.”

“Oh, Daddy…”

His face went grim. “When Willy died, it was a wake-up call. I can’t stand thinking I might never feel the kind of love you felt for him.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. For Willy. For her father. They would have enjoyed each other so much if they’d had a chance. “So I’m the bad influence.”

His smile was so full of pride and hope she could barely stand to look at him. “I prefer to call you my inspiration.”

“Awesome.”

Maybe she could inspire him to keep her part in his rebellion between the two of them. But it wouldn’t matter. Her mother would guess. For a woman who spent a large part of her days literally inside other people’s heads, she missed nothing that went on in her family, and to say she would not be pleased was a gross understatement. And it was a sentiment that would be shared by a majority of the residents of Texas, and an entire political party. It might be time to start scoping out jobs in another state. Or territory. Puerto Rico sounded lovely all of a sudden. Better yet, Brazil. They did a lot of team roping there. How many thousands of dollars would it cost to have Fudge flown to South America?

“When?” she asked.

“I had my lawyer file the paperwork yesterday.”

Well. Hell. They were really doing this, then. Tori gave it until Monday, Tuesday at the outside, before the information leaked to the press and the media went wild.

He was staring into his coffee cup again. “She’s flying in from her conference in Belgium this evening. I fly out for D.C. in the morning. I’m going to tell her before I leave.”

Dump it on her and run, in other words. Tori set down her cup and moved over to sit beside her father and loop an arm around his waist, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. “Before things get too crazy, I want you to know I am proud of you.”

“You too, sugar.” He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. “You too.”