Chapter 7

SEVEN

Things were getting out of control. It was embarrassing. Robbie knew he was better than to stoop to tricks, like kissing Tillman in front of the crowd, to win. Worse still, he knew he'd done it not to win a silly fake jousting tournament, but because he'd spotted Keith and John at the back of the crowd, watching him.

It had been petty and small, and Tillman had been absolutely right to be angry. It was never okay to force that kind of intimacy on someone without making damn certain it was what they wanted. And it was a good thing his dad had come along when he had, because with Keith still on the periphery and his blood still pumping hard with the effects of the kiss, Robbie wasn't certain what he would have done or what kind of trouble he would have caused.

Because that had been one hell of a kiss, despite all the reasons it'd happened.

The implications were too terrifying for Robbie to think about, so he threw all of his focus into his dad instead.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the entertainment," he mumbled, uncertain what his dad must think of him just then.

But of course, there was nothing Robert Hawthorne loved more than a bit of spectacle, especially when his kids were involved.

"Look at the crowd you've drawn," he said, reaching Robbie at last and thumping his back. "Everyone loved it. They were cheering along, booing and hissing the villain. You make an excellent villain, Toby," he added with a wink.

Robbie expected Tillman to go off on his dad and give him just as much of an earful about classist societies and privilege, which seemed to be the particular bone he had to gnaw on where Robbie was concerned. Instead, Tillman actually smiled and looked pleased.

"Thanks, Mr. Hawthorne," he said, actually taking the compliment. He stretched a little, like he was trying to impress someone, then said, "That was actually fun."

Robbie clenched his fists for a moment. What the hell? He knew Tillman's problem was with him and not necessarily his family, but what was with the whole preening for Dad as if….

A niggle formed in the back of Robbie's head. As if his dad were Tillman's father and he'd done something to make him proud.

There was so much to unpack there that Robbie didn't know where to start. If he had any sense of pride or self-awareness, he needed to start with the part of himself that felt warm over the way Dad accepted Tillman so readily. Those feelings were definitely connected to the reasons he'd kissed Tillman, and it wasn't because of Keith.

And speaking of Keith….

"That was brilliant," Keith said with a big smile for Robbie.

Robbie wondered how much that smile meant, considering Keith held John's hand as the two of them joined the conversation.

"Wasn't it?" Dad jumped right in, as if Keith were still closely attached to the family instead of being a memory that needed to fade so everyone could move on. "It makes me think that we should put on more exhibition matches like that. Look, Lionel and the girls already have a line of people who want to give it a try."

Robbie turned, and sure enough, two new competitors were already donning the padded armor while Lionel organized a line for others who wanted to give it a go.

"With a few additions, and maybe a check to be sure you're following safety protocols, you could make this entire joust into much more of a crowd draw," Tillman said, gesturing to the arena. "It might be as big a draw as the actual jousting."

Robbie glanced briefly to the huge, sandy arena where the trained jousters were already walking their horses through the obstacles in preparation for later events, but his eyes quickly snapped back to Tillman.

Tillman looked entirely different when he was having a civil conversation with Dad, as opposed to when he was fighting with him. Even with his hair matted with sweat from wearing the helmet and his silly, velvet costume skewed, he really was hot.

That struck Robbie in odd ways. Tillman shouldn't be hot. He certainly wasn't the classical beauty that Keith was. Tillman was too short and scrappy. And who over the age of fifteen wore a lip ring, unless they were a criminal.

Or kinky.

Robbie sucked in a breath and forced his attention on something else besides Tillman.

Unfortunately for him, that something ended up being Keith.

"You looked like you were having a good time out there," Keith told him, his smile particularly intense. "I haven't seen you that intent on something in a while."

Keith's eyes darted quickly to Tillman, and his smile grew.

Robbie breathed in, pulling himself to his full height, like he needed to defend himself.

But defend himself against what? Against old memories and baseless suppositions?

"Apparently, my Robbie has been hard at work on a lot of things," Dad said, thumping Robbie's back again. "What's this I've just heard about you appearing as a guest judge on The Ceramics Challenge?"

Robbie's face heated. Keith actually looked impressed with him, for a change.

"It's a last-minute thing," Robbie explained. "The judge they had scheduled can't make it, so they called me in as a replacement."

"Either way," Dad said, nudging him to walk a little farther from the jousting ring, since the next game was about to begin, "that's quite an accomplishment. I'm proud of you, son."

A grown man of Robbie's age and accomplishments should not melt into a beaming smile with praise, but that was absolutely what Robbie did. Tillman could criticize him for still living at home or needle him about not being adventurous enough to go out into the world to find himself, like Rafe and Ryan had, or even Mum, but it was all worthwhile to have his father express his love and appreciation as openly as he did. Almost no one was lucky enough to have that kind of a father these days.

Tillman obviously knew it as well. Again, Robbie expected him to react with a sneer or a roll of his eyes, and maybe make some comment about the Hawthorne family being hoity-toity. Instead, he looked almost forlorn that the praise hadn't been for him. However he felt about Robbie, Tillman obviously liked Dad.

"Clearly, these television people must have seen your work in a gallery or online and sought you out for your talent," Dad went on, almost like he was bragging to a room filled with potential donors. "They approached you, I take it?"

"They did, actually," Robbie said.

He glanced to Keith, instinctively looking for his ex's reaction and, much though he hated himself for it, wondering what he thought.

But instead of praising him like his father had, Keith took a step back, raising his hand like he was waving goodbye, and said, "Cheers. We need to head over to the stage for the play. It was nice catching up with you again, Robbie. Good luck with the show."

"Thanks," Robbie called after him, a moment too late.

The sense of betrayal he felt as Keith turned his back and walked away, holding John's hand and leaning closer to him to whisper something with a smile was strong.

At the same time, Robbie hated it. Break-ups were hard enough without all the shit they stirred up lingering and lingering and stopping you from moving on. It didn't make a lick of difference that he didn't want to feel any residual need for Keith, and really, it wasn't Keith specifically that he needed, but the hollowness was still there.

"You're better off without him," Dad said, dragging Robbie out of his thoughts and embarrassing the hell out of him as he did.

"I know," he said, rolling his shoulders and pretending it was because they were sore from the joust. "I definitely know that."

He peeked to the side and found Tillman staring at him with a frown. Because of course he would frown.

Without thinking, Robbie sent Tillman a sharp look in return, as if he had no business having any sort of opinion on his personal life.

That was also a mistake. When Robbie turned his attention back to his dad, Dad was watching both him and Tillman with far too much of a sparkle in his eyes.

That mischief remained, even when he said, "Tell me more about this television show."

Robbie sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, clearing away the sweat and dirt from the jousting game, but also trying to wipe away the tangle of feelings that he didn't have the time or the interest in feeling.

"They contacted me last year to ask whether I'd be interested in guest judging," he said, walking away from the jousting arena, his dad on one side and, much to his frustration, Tillman on the other. "I told them I was interested, and they said they'd set something up for next season."

"When do they film?" Tillman asked.

Robbie couldn't tell if he was actually interested or if he was simply trying to impress Dad by joining the conversation.

A sore and grasping part of him hoped he was taking a genuine interest.

"In the late winter and early spring," he replied. "They've only got a few episodes of this season left to film. That's why they needed a quick, last-minute replacement for whoever dropped out."

"I, for one, think this is a fantastic opportunity," Dad said, flushed with excitement. "Not only will this give you an exceptional amount of visibility, I'm sure it will advance your career as well."

"And it will help the family," Robbie insisted. "I'll see if I can get them to mention the Hawthorne Community Arts Center when they introduce me."

"There's a fair chance they'll list you on their website when the episode airs," Tillman said. "You could ask that they include a link to Hawthorne House's website along with any to your social media accounts or websites."

Both Robbie and his dad slowed their steps and turned to look at Tillman.

"That's an excellent idea," Dad said. "We could definitely use that sort of publicity."

Whatever impulse Robbie had to argue with Tillman, even though he agreed with the idea and planned to ask the production company about it, his dad's suddenly serious demeanor shifted his thoughts entirely.

"Why?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

His dad shrugged as they walked on, nearing the edge of the street where the shops and workshops stood. "Today's ticket office total isn't what I was hoping it would be."

Worry immediately filled Robbie's insides. He hadn't really noticed that the crowd was thinner than during past weekends, but then, he'd had far too many other things on his mind.

"How bad is it?" he asked.

"Not catastrophic," his dad said. "But we'll need to do better if we want to stand a chance of fighting off Willoughby Entertainment."

The old, familiar pinch of financial anxiety stole Robbie's breath for a moment. He hated to think what would happen when the day came that the ticket office take was so low they had to shut down the Renaissance weekends entirely.

And yet, as terrifying as that prospect was, everything Tillman had said to him whispered at the back of his head. The worst that would happen to him and the family is that they would lose their ancestral home, but gain millions of dollars in the process. Even the worst loss they could sustain wouldn't ruin them. Some might see it as a blessing.

He glanced to Tillman, who looked more concerned for Dad than anything else. Robbie didn't have the first clue what it must feel like to be one step away from homelessness and starvation.

"Filming is in Staffordshire," Robbie said, his heart racing over the bold move he was about to make. "I'll be up there overnight at least, maybe two nights."

He paused, second-guessing his idea for a moment, then turning to Tillman.

"You might want to come with me," he said, astounded the words had made it past his lips.

"Go with you?" Tillman screwed his face up, not so much like Robbie had insulted him, but like he'd suggested Tillman try sea urchin or some other exotic food he was certain he wouldn't like. "Whatever for?"

Robbie was well aware of the sharp way his dad watched him and the grin he couldn't entirely hide.

"You have all these ideas for ways to publicize and increase traffic to Hawthorne House," he said, his words coming out in a rush, now that he'd gone mad enough to say them. "You could act as my agent, speaking to the production people about things like the website information. And who knows? Maybe you could come up with a dozen more innovative ideas for things to do with Hawthorne House while you're up there. They film at an old, historic pottery, after all. The production team probably has stories of how they took the place from a faded museum to a thriving tourist attraction."

Robbie felt like he needed to gasp for breath once his little speech was done. He didn't feel confident about a word of it. In fact, he wanted to take it all back as the worst idea he'd ever had.

"I think that's a brilliant idea," his dad said, letting the smile he'd been holding inside burst out, making him look almost comical. "The two of you obviously make a fantastic pairing."

"What? No, we don't," Robbie protested.

"I definitely wouldn't say that," Tillman said at the same time.

The two of them looked quickly at each other.

Robbie had to catch his breath at the spark that clearly passed between them. The kiss they'd shared popped into his mind. He'd intended it to be a short, playful peck, but neither of them had been quick to let it go. In fact, Robbie had been moments away from getting his tongue involved when the crowd started cheering.

He'd forgotten Keith and John were standing there watching.

"Believe me, this is a brilliant idea," Dad said, shifting so he could stand between the two of them, clapping each of them on the shoulder as they walked on. "Robbie, you're going to need some sort of support behind the scenes. Exactly like an agent. And Toby, Robbie is right about you picking the brains of the production crew to come up with ideas for Hawthorne House. I'd say the arrangement is ideal."

"It's not part of my job," Tillman argued. "And I assume filming would be during the week? I'd have to inform my boss that I'd be out of the office for a few days."

"Aren't you out of the office while poking around our humble estate anyhow?" Dad asked.

"Yes, but this is my assignment," Tillman said, his face pink and his eyes darting to Robbie several times as he spoke. "It's not my assignment to go on holiday in Staffordshire to take in the historical sites."

"It isn't a holiday, it's work," Dad insisted. "What if I called Phillip Johnson to explain the situation?"

"No, no, I can handle that myself," Tillman said, a bit of his usual, combative scowl setting in.

Paradoxically, that scowl set Robbie at ease. That was the Tillman he knew, toxically independent and furious with anyone who would try to tell him what to do.

Of course, his words also implied that he was agreeing to the idea.

"If you don't want to come along, you don't have to," Robbie said, wondering if he could find a way out of his impulsive suggestion. He had no idea why he'd made it to begin with.

"Nonsense," Dad said, smiling as they reached the pottery workshop and stepping ahead of both of them. "I'll have Rebecca call and make a hotel reservation for the two of you. Just let me know what nights you'll be up there."

"I'll let you know," Robbie said, wondering if he'd won something or lost.

His dad waved at them in parting and walked on. As soon as he did, Robbie sent Tillman a short, wary look, then headed down the side of the pottery studio toward the gap in the counter so he could go inside and get back to work.

Before he could make it halfway there, Tillman grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he hissed, keeping his voice low and glancing around.

Robbie checked the area to make certain no one could overhear them as well. "I'm not doing anything," he hissed in return, yanking his arm out of Tillman's grasp.

He could still feel the imprint of Tillman's hand, though, hot and bruising and making his blood rush.

"You hate me," Tillman said, stepping closer. "You despise everything about me. Why would you want me to go on an overnight road trip with you?"

Robbie wished he had a good answer to that question. He didn't like the true answers that sailed at him like flaming arrows shot from the battlements during a siege. He was attracted to Tillman despite himself. He found the bastard challenging and exciting. He suspected Tillman knew what it felt like to struggle and strive for what he wanted, and how it felt to despair that nothing would ever turn out for the best.

"I do hate you," he said, narrowing his eyes at Tillman. "But I love my family. I love them so much that I will do whatever it takes to keep this estate and to make my dad happy. If that includes allowing you to tag along with me so you can observe a television production and get ideas about how we might use some of that to save this place, then not only will I tolerate you coming with me, I'll strap you to the boot of my car and drive you all the way to Staffordshire like that."

Tillman's rough, furious look shifted into a sly, teasing one. "I knew you were a kinky bastard."

Robbie huffed and turned away from him, stepping into the workshop.

"Tell me more about these straps," Tillman said, following him for a few steps, then leaning against one of the posts with his arms crossed, just like he had earlier in the day. "Do they come with clamps and hooks and other restraints?"

"Sod off," Robbie grumbled, heading to the bucket where he kept balls of clay.

"No, no, you're the one who invited me on this adventure," Tillman said, laughing. "I just want to be prepared. What kind of gear should I bring anyhow? I have a lovely studded leather thong you might be interested in."

Robbie ignored him, shaking his head. He had no idea what had possessed him to cause so much trouble for himself. He just hoped it wouldn't destroy things for the family, or for his peace of mind.