A Place with Briar (Harlequin Superromance) (19 page)

“Don’t apologize. Never apologize. And I know
exactly
what’s gotten into you.”

“Oh, geez,” Briar said with a shake of her head, depositing a damp dollar bill from a customer into Olivia’s tip jar. “You’re not going to be crude, are you?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t even going to go there. But the fact that you did just proves this day should be marked.”

“As what, exactly?”

Olivia spread her hands and looked dreamily into the distance. “As Briar’s Independence Day.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Briar groaned. “I’ve been independent for as long as I can remember.”

“Briar’s Independence From Inhibition Day.”

“In other words, it should be lauded by all who enter here as the day I slept with Cole Savitt.”

“Not just that,” Olivia pointed out, talking over the blender as she mixed another margarita. “Though I celebrate the date I first slept with a sexy, scruffy man every year in bed with a bottle of wine and, if I’m lucky, more sexy, scruffy man candy.” As the jukebox segued smoothly from The Rolling Stones to The Who, Olivia wet and then dipped an upended cocktail glass into a widemouthed container of crystallized salt. “For you, it’s so much more. It’s like you’ve finally molted.”

Briar spared her a bland look. “Yes, the day one transitions from crab to woman is remarkable, indeed.”

Olivia clapped her hands and hopped gleefully up and down. “It’s playful banter. She’s making playful banter.”

Briar raised one hand and pressed the other to her temples. “Wait a minute. I’m trying to figure out how you moved this conversation from taxes to playful banter.”

“The next step is dirty talk. But you need to save that for
your
man candy.” Olivia reached for a bottle and held it up. “Tequila. Straight tequila goes great with dirty talk.”

“I don’t think so,” Briar said, pushing the bottle away. “I’ll have one more margarita. Then I’ll be stumbling off to bed like the lush you apparently think I am.”

“Off to bed...where something sexy and scruffy will be waiting.”

Briar shook her head and realized that Olivia and her margaritas had done the impossible and had managed to distract her from her worries. She raised her glass. “To you, Liv.”

“Why’s that?” Olivia asked, raising the tequila bottle.

“Because with you, life is never dull.”

Olivia tipped her bottle to Briar’s glass and smiled. “I live to serve. Now drink that down so you can go get some and I can get back to my envy.”

“Deal,” Briar agreed and tipped the margarita back.

* * *

C
OLE
FROWNED
AS
he entered Hanna’s. The lights were off. The whistling noise from the broken pane was gone. He’d noticed that the window had been covered until repairs could be made.

It was late. Much later than he’d anticipated returning. He’d needed time to get his thoughts together. She deserved that. As much as she deserved the truth.

He had to tell her the truth. If any of this was going to work out like he hoped it might, he had to be honest with Briar. He had to tell her why he’d come here. And what had led him to stop doing Tiffany’s dirty work.

It wasn’t just the break-in. True, that had given him the edge he’d needed to get Gavin back in his life. But as mixed up as he’d been all morning, he’d known that his heart would lead him back here—to Hanna’s. Back home. To his innkeeper.

Walking toward the den, he called her name. Nothing stirred. No noise from above. When the instinct at the back of his neck didn’t prickle in alarm, he reached over to turn on one of the lamps next to the sofa. “Briar?” he called again, peering into the kitchen. Silence.

He was about to go upstairs to check her rooms when he saw toes. Veering toward the sun porch, he rounded the corner and saw her laid out in one of the chaise longues, fast asleep. There was a glass in her hand. He crouched, laying his hand over hers, and bent his head to sniff the substance.

His head sailed back at the sharp tang of Olivia’s margarita mix. Smiling, he gauged Briar’s face. She was deep in her cups and looked so peaceful there amidst the bright yellow cushions, he hesitated to wake her.

Sitting on the edge of the longue, he leaned forward and touched his lips to her brow. “Hey. Sleeping Beauty.”

“Mmm.” Her eyelids flickered but didn’t quite open.

He chuckled, brushing the hair back from her face. “Hey. If you sleep here, you’re gonna wake up with a crick in your neck.”

She sighed, nestling farther into the cushions by turning onto her side and curling into a ball.

He didn’t have the heart to move her. Not when she looked so cozy. Reaching for one of the blankets she’d folded carefully for guests, he covered her with it up to her chin. Taking the glass, he set it aside. “Sweet dreams.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She reached for him in the dark, her hand coming to rest on his thigh. “Stay with me,” she murmured in a sleep-drenched voice.

How could he resist her? It didn’t take much urging for him to remove his shoes and crawl onto the chaise. She curled into him, laying her head in the crook of his arm. He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. Breathing her in until she became a part of him. Smoothing a hand over her back, he listened as her breaths deepened and she drifted off to sleep again.

He’d stay with her. If she asked him to, if she forgave him, he would stay with her forever.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T
HE
FIRST
THING
Briar saw when she opened her eyes the following morning was an inordinate amount of sunshine. Bolting upright, she winced at the headache gnawing at her temples and pressed a hand to her head. Blinking, she frowned. Why was she sleeping on the sun porch? And what time was it?

She hadn’t slept past 6:00 a.m. in years. With the sun beaming high and bright over the water’s surface, it had to be near midmorning.

“Morning.”

Tilting her head, she got her first dose of embarrassment when she found Cole leaning against the archway that led into the den. He was smiling at her in a way that told her he knew very well she had slept on the sun porch...and why. She ran a hand over her hair and hoped she didn’t look as disheveled—or hungover—as she felt. “Um...hi?”

“I made breakfast,” he told her, jerking a thumb back toward the kitchen. “You up for a bite?”

“You...” She shook her head to clear away the fuzziness. It did little but give her a case of the dizzies. Gripping the edge of the chaise longue, she shifted her feet to the floor. “You made breakfast.”

He lifted a shoulder in a modest shrug. “It’s not much. I just heated up some of the things you had in the refrigerator.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

One corner of his mouth lifted into another half smile. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t be up to it.”

She cleared her throat and stared at her bare toes, not quite ready to wobble to her feet just yet. “Thank you, Cole. That was very nice of you.”

“It’s my pleasure, Ms. Browning.” He pushed off the jamb and offered her a hand. “Olivia’s a bad influence.”

She felt her cheeks color. Yep, he knew very well she was hungover. With a sigh, she placed her hand in his. “Yes. She is. But I love her.”

Lifting Briar from the chaise, Cole tucked an arm around her waist and paused in order for her to gain her balance. “Head clear?”

“Mmm-hmm.” It was only a small lie. She placed one foot in front of the other, directing them on the path to the kitchen she knew all too well. Thank goodness they were cooperating, even if her whirling head wasn’t.

As soon as she sat down at the table, he handed her a mug of steaming black coffee. She could’ve wept with gratitude. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at him reverently before tipping the mug to her lips. On the table there was a plate filled with sausages and another piled with toast. Though her stomach began to protest, she took a breath and prepared herself a plate. “I can’t remember the last time someone made me breakfast,” she mused as she spread a light layer of strawberry jam on a piece of toast. “It must have been before my mother passed away.”

He forked a few pieces of sausage onto her plate then his. “Tell me more about her.”

“My mother?”

“Do you mind?”

She smiled. “Not at all. She was a hard worker, but you would never have known it. She loved innkeeping so much, I don’t think she thought of it as work. Not until she began to slow down, which wasn’t long before she died. I think there were other signs, but she ignored them...until one day I saw her give out. From then on, it was a slew of doctor’s visits and tests, all of which only brought more and more bad news. She went quickly, once she decided she wanted to come home and stay. She wanted to be here, facing the windows and watching the bay.”

“I don’t blame her,” he said in a quiet voice. “And when you were younger, you knew you wanted to do what she did.”

Briar nodded as she finished off the toast and washed it down with another sip of coffee. “For a long time, I thought we would work side by side, until she got sick....” Picking a crumb from the tablecloth and depositing it on her napkin, Briar frowned. “Life never asks you what the order of things should be, though, does it? You have to take it as it comes, figure out what’s right—for you and those around you. And sometimes you have to do it alone.”

As her eyes rose back to his face, Cole’s smile was gentle and his gaze was warm. “You’re not alone,” he told her.

She grinned. “I know. I have Liv. And Adrian. And Roxie, too, apparently.”

“You have me,” he added, reaching for the hand she’d laid on her knee.

Her lips parted in surprise. His expression was so earnest, how could she not believe him? Somewhere beneath her ribs, her heart swelled. She looked away quickly, denying herself the certainty she saw there in his eyes. “Cole...I’m sure if you could have asked life for what you wanted, it wouldn’t be to share the kind of burdens that I have.”

“Briar,” he said just as firmly as she had spoken. His fingers tightened around hers and his thumb caressed her palm. “For the first time in a long time, I know exactly what it is that I want.”

Her breath hitched, and she tried to look away from his sincere face. She couldn’t quite manage it. “There are things that you don’t know about the inn, Cole. I could lose it. There’s no guarantee in a month that I’ll still have it.”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“I...” She blinked at tears. “You don’t know what you’re giving me.”

“Yes, I do. I intend to stay here, in Fairhope, with you—if you want me.”

She let out a quavering laugh. “You’re serious,” she realized.

“Of course I’m serious,” he said with a beaming smile. “I’m here. Whatever you ask of me, that’s what I’ll do—what I’ll be for you. I don’t have much to offer you other than what I feel....”

“What do you feel?” The question came out on a rush, and she caught herself. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s a fair question,” he admitted. “One that I’m eager to get to the bottom of myself. Know this, though, Briar. I haven’t felt this way about anyone. And I’m determined to do right by you.”

It wasn’t a proposal. Neither was it a declaration of love. What it was, however, was a pledge of loyalty and devotion. Her heart pounded at the thought of where such things could lead to down the road. “This is the first time in a long time I’ve been excited for what’s to come.”

He leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers. “Me, too.”

Taking a breath, she brought herself off the high, fine, silver-edged cloud his words had left her floating on. “Oh, look at me. I’m a mess all over again.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, reaching up and brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“As much as I’d love to believe you, I have to get washed up. My appointment with my new accountant is in an hour or so, and I can’t go looking like this.”

“Okay, then. You go get ready and I’ll do the washing up.”

“Oh, no. I can’t ask you to do that—”

He rose, picking up plates. “You didn’t.”

As he transferred dishes to the sink, she raised her hands in defeat. “If my cousin caught me arguing with that, she’d slap me silly.” Rising, Briar wiped her hands on her napkin. She touched a hand to his shoulder then rested her head against his back for one long, stolen moment, breathing him in. “Thank you for this. For everything.”

“This is just the beginning,” he promised. “Do you have a mower?”

She blinked, surprised. “Yes. In the shed where I keep the generator. Why?”

“All that rain made the grass spring up fast,” he said, jerking his chin toward the window overlooking the lawn that sloped down to the bay. “You don’t mind if I tackle the lawn today, do you?”

“Do I mind?” She let out a laugh. “I’d pay for somebody else to do it if I could.”

“By the time you get back, it’ll be done.”

She sighed, pressing her lips to his cheek. “You might be the best thing that ever happened to me.” As she turned and walked toward the stairs, she couldn’t help but smile.

Scratch that. She
knew
Cole Savitt was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

* * *

L
AWN
MOWING
IN
late June was dirty work. By the time he’d finished half the yard down to the sandy strip of shore in front of Hanna’s, Cole’s shirt was soaked clean through. The humidity felt akin to molasses and made ordinary things like breathing difficult. Still, the work was rewarding. It felt good to get a full-body workout the way he used to when he mowed his own yard during summers in Huntsville, or every other day in his home gym.

It felt good, too, doing something productive—something besides snooping into innocent people’s lives and business.

He hadn’t been able to bring up his work for Tiffany over breakfast with Briar. He’d seen the headache nibbling under the surface of her temple, the shadows under her eyes, and he could focus on nothing other than caring for her, making sure she ate a full meal before she busied herself as she always did with something concerning the inn or running errands in town.

Her business in Mobile today meant he would have a while to think, to string his thoughts together. Find the best possible way to tell her about his reasons for coming to Fairhope.

Growing up in Huntsville, his father had instilled in him a strong work ethic. It had all started with mowing their lawn...then the lawns of neighbors and relatives. He could have opened his own lawn service if he hadn’t decided soon after high school that becoming a police officer was what he wanted to do with his life. Maybe it was because he hadn’t worked—well,
really
worked—in so long, that this simple chore felt great. Even better that he was doing something useful for Briar and taking a load off her shoulders.

He wanted to tell her he had changed, he realized as the yard became more and more trim. He wanted to tell her how she had brought about that change—that she was the reason why he could no longer do Tiffany’s dirty work.

He was in love with Briar. The golden bliss of that moment at the table this morning had called for such a declaration.

However, there was no way he could tell her that he loved her until he shared everything else with her. Until she knew all of him, the dark and the light.

Funny that both the shadows and the bright spots featured the two women who had turned his life upside down—Tiffany being the dark, and Briar the light. But there was Gavin, too. If he’d never fallen in love with Tiffany way back when, there never would have been Gavin. His son was the best part of him.

Hopefully, if he could find the right way to reveal all these bright and shady aspects of himself in equal measure, both Gavin and Briar would be a part of his new life. A life he now foresaw on the Eastern Shore.

If she accepted his apology, he’d find his own place in town. He had no doubt there were other guests who would choose to stay in the bay-view suite. There would soon be other people she had to tend to. And if mowing her lawn taught him anything, it was that he missed having a purpose. He missed being useful.

A job. He didn’t think he could go back to working for the police, even in this different locale, but there was always security.

He cleaned the mower and pushed it back into its corner of the shed. Then he gassed up the weed eater and carried it to the back of the house to trim the grass the mower hadn’t been able to reach. The hairs on the back of his neck rippled with warning. Letting them lead, he turned his head in the direction of the kitchen door.

A suited figure stood there amongst the azaleas, looking like a shadow himself in Briar’s sunny alcove of the world. Cole frowned. He didn’t recognize the man, not from this distance. He was distinctly tall, slim for his height. His hair was thin and gray and he was staring out at Cole curiously, briefcase in hand.

Because the man looked expectant and clearly out of place in a perfectly plain, dark-toned suit and gray tie, Cole set aside the weed eater and headed over. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked as he approached.

“Who’s asking?” the man barked, shading a pair of flinty eyes with the brunt of his hand.

“Name’s Savitt, sir. I’m a guest here at Hanna’s.”

“A guest?” The man scowled. Up close, grim lines furrowed his brow and the sides of his mouth. “She has guests doing the work around here now?”

It didn’t take but a second for the man’s presence to sink in. He bore no resemblance to Briar, but Cole had a good sense that this was her father. He shifted his stance. “You must be Mr. Browning.”

“I’m looking for my daughter.” The words should have formed a request, an inquiry at the very least. But they were clipped, commanding and set Cole’s teeth on edge. “It’s urgent that I speak to her.”

“She’s out.” When the man’s scowl deepened, Cole crossed his arms over his chest. The urge to protect Briar and her whereabouts surged through him, originating around the prickle at the base of his neck—that raw instinct he’d never had a reason not to trust. Remembering the way Briar had behaved after her father’s last visit, he’d have wagered instinct was right on the money again. That this man was about as welcome here at Hanna’s as another Category 2 hurricane. “I think she said she had a meeting with her accountant.”

“Accountant,” the man echoed. His lips pursed. “Hmm. Well, at least she’s taking some responsibility.”

Cole felt the muscles in his jaw tighten. “Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Browning?”

His brows winged up, eyes hardening further with suspicion. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say by your tone you are more to my daughter than a tourist.”

“I don’t see why it would matter to you if I were.”

“Leave it to her to overstep her bounds.”

Maybe it was the swamping humidity or the blistering heat of the noonday sun beating down on his head, but Cole heated up like a live wire in an instant, advancing toward the man in three long, impending strides. “She hasn’t overstepped anything. Your daughter is the most decent person I’ve ever known. She works harder than anyone I’ve ever met. And I’m ready to personally take issue with
anyone
who thinks he has the right to say anything to the contrary.”

“Savitt, is it?” Mr. Browning sneered, his flinty stare now acerbic enough to cut stone. “Let me tell you something about my daughter. She’s never known what’s right for her. By investing everything she has into this godforsaken place, she’s made a mistake she can’t unwind, a mistake that will cost her dearly. And if she’s not careful, and I’m right about who you are and what you’re doing here, she’ll get herself into more trouble in the meantime.”