A Place with Briar (Harlequin Superromance) (20 page)

“Where do you come off, old man?” Cole asked, squaring off with the bastard. “She’s dedicated her life to something good and all you seem to want to do is tear her down for it. Did it ever occur to you that your support, however marginal, is all she’s ever wanted from you?”

“You’ve gone too far,” Browning growled low in his throat, stepping off the stoop to loom in Cole’s face. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with my daughter, such as it is. And I can guarantee that you won’t be around long enough to make a difference to either of us.”

“I daresay I’ve made more of a difference than you’ve bothered to,” Cole asserted, refusing to draw back. “You know, my father passed away before my son had a chance to really get to know him. But he was more a man than any other I’ve ever met, and I was lucky to have him. No matter what I did or where I ventured, he never lost faith in me. I wouldn’t be anyone without that kind of unconditional support, and I hope I can offer the same to my son. Now, think of what you’ve deprived Briar of all these years. She’s starved for even the barest trace of appreciation or praise from you. And despite all she is, all she’s done and made here, you hold back. You punish her for being who she is. Frankly, I don’t know how you sleep at night.”

Browning held his stare, a chilling showdown, for what felt like a small lifetime. The muscles in his jaw quivered with wrath. “You’re going to regret ever walking into her life.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Try to make yourself useful, Mr. Savitt, and tell my daughter I came looking for her.” The man turned on his heel and stalked out of Briar’s garden. Cole watched until he disappeared before relaxing his stance. He wiped the sweat from his brow and braced his hands on his hips. Collecting his breath, he worked to cool the simmer in his blood.

Maybe he had butted into something that wasn’t any of his business, he thought as he made his way back to the weed eater. But there was no doubt Briar’s father had hurt her, and that he would continue hurting her if he got the chance. It was time somebody stepped up to the plate for her and made it clear to the old man that his brand of crap would no longer be tolerated.

Storm clouds rumbled in the east yet the sun wasn’t giving up its reign of the early afternoon. He was finishing up on the far side of the property when he caught sight of Olivia as she walked out onto the tavern terrace. Judging by her white tank, cotton shorts and the microfiber cloth hooked through the shorts’ side belt loop, she’d been in the midst of cleaning. He shut off the mower and reached up to wipe his brow with what he hoped was a clean forearm.

Olivia pulled her cloth loose and tossed it his way. “Dry off, why don’t you?”

“Thanks,” he said, scrubbing it over his face and around to the back of his neck. “So, how much did you hear?”

When he glanced at her, she lifted a shoulder, gazing at him with eyes too wise. Leaning against the railing, she crossed one ankle over the other in a casual stance. “You ever replace a car battery?”

His mouth fumbled open. As always, he hadn’t known what to expect Olivia to say—this, least of all. “Sure. There’s not much to it.”

She pushed herself off the railing, propelling down the steps to the trim lawn. “This way.”

He watched her walk away for a moment then shrugged and followed. They wound up in the tavern parking lot, which was only a narrow lot of gravel on the far side of the tavern. Cole sensed the placement was strategic on the part of Hanna’s. None of the tavern bustle would be visible from any of the inn’s sprawling windows.

There was one lone vehicle in the lot, a burnt-orange 1980s model Ford pickup parked under the shade of an overhanging oak tree. “This yours?” he asked in disbelief.

She shot him a winged look over her shoulder as she popped the hood. “You saying a girl can’t drive a truck?”

“Would you call me a chauvinist if I did?” His lips twitched when she turned to him, propping a hand on her hip. “Kidding. Where I grew up, everybody has a four-by. I just didn’t expect it of you.”

“Because I’m so feckless and dainty.”

“Dainty, maybe. But hardly feckless.”

“Why, thanks, sugar.” She walked around to the driver’s door and leaned in through the open window. “This here’s Chuck.”

Cole’s lips twitched. “Chuck the truck?”

“Yep. He was my father’s till he and my mother took the college money I was never going to use and invested it in an RV. Three months later, they took off on the road and haven’t been back but once a year since, leaving Chuck here and the tavern in my care.” Carrying a new battery, she joined him again at the hood. “I bought this because Chuck’s been having some trouble starting.”

“You sure it’s the battery?” he asked, knowing he risked a valued appendage by voicing the cautionary question.

As expected, she sent him a bland look. “The damn thing doesn’t start. It’s a battery problem.”

“Could be,” he granted. Stepping around her, he took a long gander at Chuck’s restored engine. “Or the alternator might be going out.”

“If that were the case, would it be turning over?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay then, grease monkey. Here’s the deal.” She patted the new battery. “I don’t like anybody’s paws except mine on my ride. Despite your delusions of grandeur, I’m willing to trust you. And I’ll pay you for the trouble.”

He swiped the battery from her grasp and disconnected the old battery cables. “If it is a battery problem, this’ll take me all of five minutes—if that. You’re not paying me.”

“It
is
a battery problem, and I
will
pay you. If you won’t take money then you can quit digging your heels in the mud and tell me what you and my uncle Hud were discussing so heatedly a while ago.”

His jaw tensed before he realized there was no reason to jump on the defensive. No getting around the fact that Olivia was Briar’s cousin and they were close. He respected the link and its importance to Briar. Careful not to lean his midsection against the truck’s hot grille, he frowned thoughtfully as he worked and she hovered like a hawk.

It wasn’t until the thunderhead to the east rumbled, announcing its descent on the Eastern Shore, that he spoke again. “These cables are corroding. You’ll need to replace them soon, too.”

“New battery cables, check.” Leaning against the hood, she eyed him expectantly.

Cole sighed. “Your uncle’s a jackass.”

“Agreed.”

When he gaped at her, she lifted her shoulders, expression sober. “He’s hard on Briar for all the wrong reasons. He won’t admit it’s because he sees Hanna when he looks at her and it hurts something awful. But he’s gone too long taking his grief out on the most convenient person around.”

Maneuvering the new battery into place, Cole secured it, scowling over the work and Olivia’s words. “It’s been a year and nobody ever stepped in?” Standing back, he rubbed the grease from his hands and turned the fierce stare on her. “
You
never stepped in?”

“I tried,” she tossed back. “Lord knows I tried so many times to bash some sense into that stubborn fool’s head. But one reason he hasn’t retired from law is that he loves sticking to his guns and he doesn’t back down when he’s convinced he’s in the right. If Briar inherited anything from Hud, it’s that damned stubbornness. Not that I can say much. The Lewis side of the family is just as bad....”

Finished with the task at hand, Cole closed the hood and turned slowly, mirroring Olivia’s stance by leaning against the truck, the cleaning cloth slung around his shoulders and his arms locked over his chest. “She’s like her mother, right?” At her nod, he added, “Hmm, I don’t see someone like her going for a man as hard as he is.”

Something softened the contours of Olivia’s face as she gazed off toward the bay, squinting at the glare off the water. “The thing with Hanna was that she had what we used to call ‘X-ray vision.’ She could see through the toughest armor, right into the heart of the hardest person and she knew how to draw that side of them out. It’s part of the reason why she was such a great innkeeper. And Hud was different with her—up until Briar went off to college. Then whenever I came over for dinner and guests weren’t around, I’d often hear the tail end of heated arguments. Tension hung in the air, like some sick cat walked in and died there on the table but nobody cared to talk about it. By the time Hanna died, maybe even before, Hud had regressed back fully into that tough old rhino skin you rammed your head against this afternoon.”

Cole shook his head sadly. “He really never did make his peace with it, did he?”

“That would require some semblance of feeling. He hasn’t felt a stir in so long, I’m shocked somebody hasn’t taken him for a zombie and popped him one with a .308 Winchester.”

His lips quirked up briefly at the image. “It’s crazy how different things would be...”

The small, drawn lines around Olivia’s mouth eased. “If she hadn’t died? Yeah. Life would be a helluva lot easier for Briar, that’s for sure. But trust me. Hud would still be riding her to do something else with her life, even if she’d gone to Atlanta for culinary school.”

Cole considered the situation carefully. Hudson Browning’s feud with his daughter was far from over.

The telltale sound of tires crunching gravel in the inn parking lot distracted them both.

“That’ll be her,” he murmured.

“Are you going to tell her about this?”

“I have to,” he said, pulling the cloth down from around his neck and handing it back to Olivia.

She took it, scrutinizing him closely as she folded it in half and tucked it back into her shorts. Then she surprised him by taking his face in her hands and giving him a short, noisy kiss on the lips. “My cousin’s found herself a damn good man. Men around here have proven to be disappointing in the past, so I don’t say that lightly.” With a firm pat on his cheek, she added, “Go get her,” and walked off.

It took him a moment to find his feet and stroll back to Hanna’s to fess up to his innkeeper—in more ways than one.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

B
RIAR
WATCHED
THE
two charcoal thunderheads come together like stern brows overhead and threaten the sunny outlook on her side of the bay.

Typical,
she thought as the sun evaded the first grasp of cumulonimbus. The morning’s headache had finally vanished—and, if Byron Strong was right, the inn’s troubles would soon be over, too. And now the weather had decided not to cooperate with what promised to be a fine, cheerful mood.

She scooped fingers through her hair so pins tumbled from the professional updo she’d fashioned to meet the accountant who’d spoken to her so kindly after her father’s visit a week ago—not that her father knew about any of this. The folder on the small nook table in front of her held the names of several potential investors, ones Byron had promised would jump at the chance to plunk a finger down in Hanna’s deep, historical pie.

They had agreed it was best at this time not to tip their hand to her father who’d been so sure Byron was her only chance to get out from under the inn’s burden of debts unscathed. Byron had even chosen to meet her away from her father’s Mobile practice, at a far less intrusive location, the university library.

She would review the investors again and make arrangements to meet them over the course of the week—and take the first real jab in this fight for what was hers. Especially now that it looked like a battle she could very well win.

And yes, she acknowledged as a smile warmed her lips, the inn was hers. As Byron had laid everything on the table and gone through it bit by bit, the rush had swept through her blood and for the first time in a long time she had let it.

Hanna’s not only could be hers, but it was. She wanted to fight for it not just for her mother’s sake but for her own.

She wasn’t sure what had brought about the shift. A few days ago, she hadn’t been able to think of the inn as anything but her mother’s domain. The fight to save it had been Hanna’s—Briar had only picked up the gauntlet.

Byron had helped her find her own gauntlet, though, and she hadn’t hesitated to throw it into the midst of the contest.

Taking his business card from her sweater pocket, she placed it on top of the folder. Her father had been right about one thing—Byron Strong was what she needed to get her affairs in order. Only Hudson wouldn’t be at all pleased to find out that his business partner had decided to go rogue, aiding his daughter in her fight instead of shutting it all down.

Suddenly, everything from the inn’s financial straits to her relationship with Cole seemed to be taking a turn for the better.

She picked up the hairpins, veering back toward her bedroom to change into more comfortable shoes. Despite the dimming light from the windows, she was determined to throw off the afternoon gloom.

Before she could do more than deposit the pins in the seashell-shaped dish on her bathroom vanity, the phone rang. She had only to think of her near-empty guest book to propel herself back into the den of her third-floor living quarters and snatch it up on the fifth ring.

The call lasted little more than three minutes. By the time she replaced the phone in the cradle, she felt as if the earth had shifted beneath her feet. As raindrops broke apart on the window above her, she stared at the phone’s receiver, lips parted in shock.

Then she heard the voice shouting from the floor below, the sound of her name. On her bare feet, she walked briskly to the door to the stairs and down to the second level.

As soon as she tore through the door to the hall of guest suites, she saw him standing opposite the door to his room on the landing. Relief waged against guilt for claim of his expression. She let the door creak to a close behind her as thunder rolled overhead and didn’t give him a chance to speak first. “Did you speak to my father?”

He frowned. Shifting his stance from one foot to the other, he considered her. “Speaking isn’t exactly how it went.”

“So it’s true,” she said, pulse picking up pace. “Everything he said you said...”

He nodded cautiously. “Yeah, I probably said it.” When she only continued to stare, he lifted his hands. “Look, maybe it was the heat. I don’t know. But I can’t apologize.”

“Don’t,” she blurted. At his stunned look, she followed the towering impulse tugging her down the hall toward him. Without another word, she flung her arms around him and pressed her mouth hotly to his.

His sound of surprise died in his throat as she delved into his mouth, tongue seeking his as heat and triumph and reckless waves of raw desire consumed her in a flash. She felt his hands on her, returning the blistering hold, cruising over her as freely as hers roamed his body. For a moment, she felt the bite of his doorknob at her back before he threw open the door and they stumbled into his room.

Faint, watery shadows fell over the bay-view suite from the wide, undraped pane. She walked backward toward the bed, trusting him to lead the way as her hands tore at his damp T-shirt. The sound of cotton ripping made her fumble. Their mouths parted and she panted, looking down at the tear she’d made in the material from his collar to his sternum.

As his dark eyes veered from the rip back to her face, she saw that the blaze in his eyes was unhindered and barked out a laugh. “I’m not sorry,” she said breathlessly and pushed him back against the bed. He toppled to the spread and she straddled him, holding him back by the shoulders and taking his mouth again.

He moaned, a virile noise like a growl that caught her breath as much as the play of his strong, molding hands down her sides to her hips and back farther over her rear. The heat clawed at her last barren shred of control, pushing her beyond the brink of desperation. She wanted him. God, did she want him.

She arched back, tugging the tails of her button-up blouse from the pleated skirt she’d worn to the meeting. Locking her gaze on the dark fathoms of his, enjoying the play of his thumbs over her navel underneath the hem of the blouse, she unbuttoned the pearl clasps one by one.

She wouldn’t have thought it possible but his gaze darkened, mouth dropping open. His breath spilled out. “Oh, hell,” he groaned, his hold tightening around her waist.

Smiling, she shrugged the shirt from her shoulders. God bless Roxie Honeycutt and her new line of lingerie. Judging by the look on Cole’s face, struggling into the wicked black-lace bustier this morning had been so worth it.

Before she could shift over him, he stopped her with, “Wait a minute, wait a minute.”

She halted. Rain trickled in rivulets down the glass over his head, chasing shadows across his reverent face as his eyes licked over her in heated strokes. His hand sought hers and he tugged it toward his chest until her palm blanketed his heart and he held it there, watching her face as she measured his pulse.

It was pounding. His heart was pounding, a hard, heavy artillery. The sweetness of it sang. She searched his face, feeling not just the burn of unbridled lust but the silken slide of tenderness. A million silent words passed between them as she held his stare then slowly lowered into his embrace, sighing blissfully as he rolled her beneath him.

Their lovemaking was fervid in its intensity. They left nothing unsaid with either hands or mouths, bodies leaving inhibition at the door. She thought she would break in two, emotions straining, sensation bowing her up to climax until she feared she’d never come down, never crash back to earth.

She didn’t. Instead, she slid, loose, limber, lost. Her head lolled back on her shoulders as she gloried in the gilded edge of satisfaction.

Lowering to the bed, he tucked her into him. The rain continued to patter gently against the window. The world remained dim, hazy and cloudy. She didn’t give a thought to their slick bodies or the disheveled state of her hair or the sheets. His lips brushed her temple, lingered, his breath falling hot on her skin.

She was naked, pressed to the brazen heat of him. She’d never felt so comfortable in her own skin. It was the middle of the day, there were a thousand things to do, rain or no rain...and she didn’t give a damn.

For the first time in her memory, she felt unburdened. Both by her lover and the purpose she had found that morning in the inn’s skirmish. Beaming wide, she snuggled farther into the heat of his solid frame. “We should have done this sooner.”

He chuckled, the mirthful noise wheezing a bit. He still hadn’t quite caught his breath. “It’s hard to argue with that.”

“I’ll buy you a new shirt.”

“Forget the shirt.” He traced her bottom lip with the rough pad of his thumb. “I’ll be damn sure to stand up for you more often.”

She hadn’t thought it was possible, but her grin widened. “I’m not going to apologize for jumping you...even if I did frighten you for a moment there in the beginning.”

“Don’t,” he murmured, the mirth in his eyes fading into sweet tenderness as he lowered his mouth fully to hers.

She pillowed her head on his shoulder and decided to indulge herself a little longer. “I’ve never slept in a guest bed before.” She sighed as sleep rushed up to meet her. “It’s nice.”

“Good.” His fingers sank into her hair and his head came to rest against hers. “’Cause we’re not going anywhere for a long while.”

* * *

O
VER
THE
NEXT
few days, workers congregated around the inn. Before she would allow any investors to tour Hanna’s, Briar wanted to make sure the building was in perfect shape.

Olivia found a way to convince a contractor friend of hers to give Briar a quote on the porch roof and railing. Since contractors were in high demand after the damage the Alabama coast had sustained from Brett, this was an impressive feat on Olivia’s part.

Soon the contractor had his team out at Hanna’s doing repairs. Briar also found someone to replace the broken window in her office and called the building inspector to ask if he could give Hanna’s a walk-through. A positive report on his part would certainly build investors’ confidence.

When Cole wasn’t helping the carpenters with the repairs or giving Briar a helping hand while she scrubbed the inn from top to bottom, she suspected he was out looking for an apartment or condo he could rent until he found something a little more permanent.

Everything was coming together, she thought, happily cleaning the sprawling windows of the sun porch. Despite the noise of power saws and hammering from outside, she couldn’t help but hum as she worked. Guests had been calling over the past few days to confirm that their suites would be available in the coming weeks and to make sure the inn and the shore hadn’t sustained enough damage to deter their stay in Fairhope. Briar had been all too happy to reassure them as well as book a few new names toward the end of the summer.

As she finished cleaning the windows and their sills, she glanced out and saw Adrian traipsing through the garden toward the screen door. She raised her hand in greeting before grabbing her cleaning supplies and stepladder to meet her friend in the kitchen. “Come in,” she said, opening the door and ushering Adrian in. “It’s hot enough to bake cookies out there.”

“July’s coming on quick,” Adrian said, mopping her bangs back from her brow. “Oh, you should know Olivia’s entertaining the construction crew. As she’s wearing little more than a sports bra and shorty-shorts, I’m not sure how much work they’re getting done.”

Briar shook her head. “I’m more worried about them than her. They’re harmless—we can’t say the same for Liv.”

“No, we can’t,” Adrian agreed, amused. “I’ve been in the greenhouse most of the morning, which is why I’m sweating like a pig. New shipment of ferns. I remember you saying a week ago that you’ll be ordering more for the entrance.”

“Oh, yes,” Briar remembered as she poured Adrian a glass of iced tea. She added a sprig of mint for the sake of the heat. “The storm ruined the ones I had hanging on the porch.”

“How many do you need?” Adrian asked as she took a load off in one of the chairs. “I’ll bring them over this afternoon.”

“Four. And thank you for thinking of me first. They’ll look lovely for the tours Byron Strong and I will be giving investors within the next week.”

“Oh, right, Byron.”

“You know him?” Briar asked.

“Family friend,” Adrian said with a wave of her hand. “He does the books for my parents’ nursery off and on. You know Mom—she doesn’t sit down long enough to do anything but write checks to suppliers. She used to ride Dad’s ass to do the books, although she knows full well he can’t add or subtract to save his life. Byron has saved their marriage on more than one occasion, which is no easy deed.” She rolled her eyes. “Mom even tried to hook us up, being that I’m so single and alone. We went out on a few dates, that’s it.”

“How was he?” Briar asked, knowing full well the question was probably more suited to Olivia but couldn’t curb her curiosity.

“Oh, he’s definitely hot,” Adrian recalled, eyes widening to reveal just how much. “Sexy without even breaking a sweat. And still single, I believe.
Somebody
should’ve snatched him up by now. He’s even nice, a miracle given my dating and marriage track record. I think he just lost interest in me. Not that I blame him. Single mother and sole business owner doesn’t exactly scream ‘Take me, man hunk, I’m yours.’” She glanced around. “Speaking of, is there anything else you need from the shop before then?”

“Not that I know of off the top of my head,” Briar said. “But I’ll let you know if I do think of something. The new arrangement in the entryway looks beautiful. You really outdid yourself.”

Adrian sat back, tipping her head to let the cool air from the vent above wash over her face. “Anything I can do? You’ve been busy.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t enjoyed,” Briar admitted, taking a seat across from Adrian. There were piles of silverware arranged on the table. She had started polishing them this morning before the team had arrived. “Cole does all the real labor. I’m thrilled that I have someone I can call on for plumbing now.”

Raising a brow, Adrian tilted her head. “Though I doubt you pay him—not with money, anyway.”