Navy SEAL's Match

by Amber Leigh Williams

  As Mavis stood by, waiting, Tiffany looked from her to him. She shook her head. “I fail to understand what you see in each other.” To Gavin she said, “Her family’s pleased about your arrangement, I assume?”

  “Get in,” he said again in answer.

  “Just a slip of a thing,” Tiffany said thoughtfully, tossing her bag into the passenger seat. “Usually he likes the taller ones. Blonder and skinnier, too.”

  Gavin reached for Tiffany’s arm, but Mavis said, “Don’t. She’ll probably go to the police, tell them you manhandled her or something. And you wanna know what I fail to understand?” she asked Tiffany directly. “Why you can’t let him live life the way he thinks is right. Do you really believe what he needs right now is another dose of your toxins?”

  “I’m his mother,” Tiffany told her. “You’re a piece of the pattern. Another temporary solution to a problem he’ll never solve. An itch he’ll scratch, then handily forget. You won’t fix him. Neither will you keep him. Do yourself a favor, sweet pea—don’t assume you’re anything close to what he needs. Trust me, you don’t need him.”

  Mavis frowned at her, nonplussed. “How would you know what I need?”

  “The last thing any woman needs is the burden of a man who can’t support himself, much less her. The man carries the load, right? You want to convince me you can fight your battles and his?”

  “I could,” Mavis said without hitch. She shifted her stance, feet spreading, arms crossing. “And you know what, witch? I pity you.”

  “You pity me?” Tiffany said with amusement.

  “Yes,” Mavis said, nodding. “It’s none of my business what made you this way or why you’ve worked so hard to make things difficult for Cole and Briar. But Gavin’s your son. By not compromising on your anger, you’ve managed to turn him so far away from you that you’ll never know what it’s like to have him on your side. Good luck living with that. Not to mention, yourself.”

  Gavin patted the top of the door. “Last call.” When Tiffany continued to measure Mavis, he said, “The car, Mom. Get in the car.”

  “One last thing,” Tiffany asserted. To Mavis again, she said, “When it’s over, do you think he’ll ever come back here, even for Cole and Briar and Harmony, when he knows you’re here, too?”

  “Do I need to count?” Gavin said. “Don’t make me count.”

  “Don’t make him count,” Mavis reiterated, quiet. “Leave him now, in peace.”

  “Oh, there’s no rest for the wicked,” Tiffany said, and had the gall to smile as she slipped into the driver’s seat.

  “No sympathy for the devil, either,” Gavin told her, and closed the door. He stepped back only slightly to keep the tires from going over his toes.

  The engine revved. Gavin heard the gears shift. The car began to roll away. He heard the whir of the driver’s window. Tiffany’s head poked out. “Good luck with your mission,” she called to Mavis.

  Gavin’s jaw creaked under tension as he watched his mother’s grin disappear. He listened until he could no longer hear the Bentley.

  A hand slid into the bend of his elbow. Unable to look at Mavis yet, he did his best to exhale. “I’m sorry,” he said bluntly.

  “She’s...” Mavis stopped, at a loss. “I heard she was terrible, but I’ve never seen it in action.” He heard her swallow. “She’s soulless.”

  Gavin moved away; Prometheus trotted after him. Gavin paced to the end of the driveway before doubling back toward her.

  “You don’t believe any of that, do you?” Mavis asked. “What she said—it’s crap.”

  “Not all of it,” he said. “I did leave some of those women without her help.”

  “Because she spent your whole childhood planting a voice inside your head,” Mavis said vehemently. “Her voice.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Believe what you want. Not everything I do leads back to her.”

  “Give me an example,” she challenged.

  You. Gavin bit his tongue. He’d known better than to touch Mavis, taste her. He’d known if he did, there’d be consequences for both of them. “Why did you come back? If she didn’t know before, she knows now.”

  “About us?” Mavis shrugged. “What difference does it make? She can’t hurt me. I don’t care how much she tries.” She closed the space between them. “I’m not going anywhere. It’ll take a heck of a lot more than Tiffany Howard to make me budge, Gavin.”

  “What about Kyle?” he asked. The night was growing darker and denser, just like the hollow feeling inside his chest. “Your mom and dad. Harmony. Your grandmother...”

  “It’s my life, my choices,” she said. “You and I are together because at this point in our lives we choose each other. I won’t back down from my choice.”

  Gavin wanted to look at her, pinpoint every one of her familiar features in the shadows, but his mother had already probed her enough. He looked over her head.

  “Will you?” she asked. “Is this...not what you want after all?”

  Okay, he didn’t just want to look at her. He wanted to touch her, reassure her with everything he was—even if that wasn’t much.

  Mavis bit her lip. “I wish... I wish she could see you. The way I do.”

  “Mavis,” he said, trying to stop her.

  “Your mother’s a fool. A damn fool.”

  “I won’t argue that,” he muttered.

  Her arms twined around his waist. “Tell me you don’t believe her,” she said, down to a murmur.

  He found himself skimming his palm over the silky black surface of her hair, wanting to absorb her. Her sureness.

  He could be honest, with both of them. “I know it’d be better for you if I left.”

  “You let me be the judge of that,” she advised.

  “The moment you’re burdened by me,” he said, slowly, “I’m out of here.”

  She didn’t agree. No. Instead, she raised herself to her toes.

  Gavin’s eyes closed and his breath hitched as her kiss washed breathily over his lips and blew him away. He cradled the side of her head, absorbing heat and certitude. Answers cropped up inside him, bright like candles. His hand moved around to the back of her head, no more able to snuff them out than he was to convince her to walk away.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Gavin hitched a ride in Errol’s Caddy. He listened to the drone of good tires and the light twang of bluegrass tuned to a low murmur. Errol’s herringbone driving cap was pulled low, his eyes narrow against the refraction of light off passing cars. There were more lines on the man’s face than Gavin could count. No scars, just experience.

  Gavin could speak up about what he knew, his own experiences. However, he didn’t much feel like going unanswered. So his lips stayed sealed as they passed into city limits. From there, the Cadillac took them through the beehive of downtown, through the fruit-and-nut section where houses were old and trees were older. Finally, the bay. It boiled with color under the low sun.

  Gavin asked Errol to let him out near the pier. He thanked the man and watched him drive off before starting the long walk to the inn.

  Some of the store-and house fronts had changed along Scenic 98, but not enough to muddle Gavin’s memory. He knew the treads of this street, this walk, like that worn-in pattern on an old pair of jeans. It sounded busier than it had in his youth—cars whishing, people roving, dogs barking. But to him, it hadn’t changed. He reached up to touch a snag of Spanish moss that trailed off the nearest tree just before he made the turn for Hanna’s.

  The drive was rocky and gravelly. It was packed with cars. Gavin avoided the front entry with its wide porch and ivy-strewn columns and wove a path through the quiet space of the gardens. A new wing had been added over the last year. It had opened to fanfare over the summer. Briar’s business was doing outstanding.

  Hummingbirds buzzed l
ike drones around the feeder near the kitchen door. They didn’t shy away at his approach. Gavin tried to count their jewel-green bellies as he passed under them, but they darted too quickly.

  He’d always thought of Briar that way. Darting from task to task, always in efficient motion.

  He stood on the stoop, peered through the door. The screen was clean, like the pane behind it. He saw Briar’s outline.

  Gavin took a breath before parting the screen from the door. He reached for the knob, then stopped. Hesitant, he raised his fist and knocked lightly.

  Briar stopped. She stepped back from the prep counter, gathering the apron in her hands. He heard her heels clicking against the floor before she snatched it open. “Gavin!” She smiled wide and touched his shoulder. “You didn’t have to knock. Come in, come in.”

  He took off his ball cap as he let the screen tap against the jamb and she closed the door to keep the cool air in. “I would’ve come through the front, but there seemed to be something going on in there.”

  “It’s just the orchestra practicing for a wedding on Sunday,” Briar explained.

  “A whole orchestra?”

  “Well, it’s the Frenchleys’ girl. They seem to know everyone from here to Arizona and about half of them are invited.”

  Gavin made a noise. “Who’d wanna know that many people, much less invite them to their wedding?”

  “Your father said the same thing,” she said. “Are you hungry? Have a seat. I just took a fresh batch of scones out of the oven. You better get them before Gerald visits this afternoon. The bride’s father is a fan of the tavern brew. He’s ordered a keg to keep the reception hopping. Gerald and William will be dropping it off this evening.”

  “Good for them,” he said. The Leightons’ draft had long been one of his favorites. He shook his head when she pulled a chair back from under the round table at the center of the kitchen. “I don’t want to get under your feet. You’re busy with wedding prep and all. I just came to talk with Dad about something.”

  “You’re never under my feet,” she protested. “I wish you’d come more often.” When he only nodded, she rubbed his shoulder. “I’ll go see if I can hunt up Cole. First, though... I’ve been meaning to get this out to Zelda’s for you.” She passed a mason jar to him from the counter. “Fig jam,” she told him. “I put it together last week with those figs you brought. There’s a few more jars, if you or Zelda want them. I thought about sending some to Mavis—”

  “With all you’ve got going on...” he said slowly, turning the jar this way and that. It was tied prettily with a square of gingham and twine and labeled. “You still found time to do this?”

  “Well, yes.”

  Ah, damn. Gavin swallowed. It’d been a long time since he could remember what it was like being six years old in this kitchen, waiting eagerly to see what Briar pulled out of her double ovens. She’d always given him food and warmth in multitudes. He’d been the contentious kid with the Mohawk and the bad attitude and she’d been the stepmother who’d had his back in quiet ways.

  He sighed, pulling her against his side. His arm spanned her narrow shoulders so he could hold her a moment. Touching his chin to her head, he breathed cinnamon and flour, lavender...and home. “Thanks.”

  She patted his stomach. “It’s no trouble, Gavin,” she murmured. Her voice sounded thick. “It never has been.”

  “I’m starting to get that,” he remarked. “Sorry it’s taken so long.”

  “You’re just fine,” she told him. As he released her, she turned to the door. “I’ll get Cole.”

  Gavin saw her swipe the back of her wrist over her eyes and looked pointedly away. The scones were cooling on a cookie sheet on the range. Unable to resist, he snatched one and had just scarfed another when Cole entered. “I’ll take one of those.”

  Gavin extended a scone. “Busy?”

  “I’ve been told to rest and have a cup of coffee with my son, and that suits me just fine,” Cole said. He ate the scone in one bite, then went to the coffeepot. When he lifted it in invitation, Gavin shook his head.

  Cole poured the coffee into a mug. He set it on the table. They both pulled out chairs and sat.

  “How’ve you been?” Gavin asked. He and Cole hadn’t had a decent conversation since the day at the Leightons’ orchard when his father had caved under the afternoon heat.

  “Okay,” Cole said as he stirred creamer in his coffee. “Briar’s on me about hiring a landscaper, at least until the weather cools.”

  “Will you?” Gavin asked.

  Cole shrugged. “I don’t see much point in waiting until winter to landscape. The annuals die off, the perennials hibernate. There’s nothing to do then on the lawn even with the grass turning. I can’t do any of it too early in the a.m. It disturbs the guests. I’ve taken to doing most of the work in the late afternoons.”

  “Would you consider hiring a yard boy to help you?” Gavin wondered. “To get what needs doing done in less time?”

  Cole thought about it. “It’s an idea. Why? You know somebody who’d be interested?”

  Gavin shifted on the chair’s thin cushion. “Me.”

  Cole lowered the mug from his mouth. “You?”

  “Yeah. Why not?” Gavin asked. “I’m handy with a mower. I can weed, mulch and take care of any heavy lifting you need. I’m cheap, too, just so long as Briar’s willing to feed me something nonvegetarian before I head back to Zelda’s.”

  As Gavin spoke, a grin slowly crept around the corners of Cole’s mouth. “Is this just for the summer? Or are you thinking long term as well?”

  Gavin decided to tread carefully here. “For now, let’s say it’s for the season. We can reevaluate after it’s over. You may not want me for another.”

  “I can’t think of anything I want more,” Cole asserted.

  Gavin cleared his throat. He took another scone and rolled his shoulders forward as he braced his elbows on the table. “You might say something different when I accidentally kill off a gardenia bush and Briar stops cooking for either of us.”

  Cole’s laugh filled the room and worked into the dry, mottled cracks of the grim mood Gavin had had trouble casting off since the evening before.

  “I heard Briar and I missed an interesting dinner last night,” Cole said.

  Gavin groaned in answer.

  “Adrian said that Edith was there so I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of lecturing. I will ask, though, if you know what you’re doing—with Mavis.”

  No, Gavin thought. Then, yes...then no again. He settled for a frown. “I want to be sure,” he said honestly. “She deserves someone who’s sure.”

  Cole watched him for several moments. “Is Mavis who you wanted to talk to me about?”

  Gavin sighed, letting his chest rise and fall until he’d released the laden breath completely. “Yes and no. Mostly, it’s about Mom.”

  Cole gripped the mug but didn’t raise it again. “Oh?”

  Gavin nodded. “There’ve been things through the years I never told you. Things about her and what she’s done.”

  “To keep you away.” Cole’s voice dipped into a deep sound.

  “She couldn’t have done that on her own,” Gavin commented. “I made the choice not to come back, or not to stay whenever I did come back.”

  “But your mom had her say, too,” Cole inferred. He’d once been a detective, a good one who could sniff out troubles near and far from home.

  “She hasn’t needed a say,” Gavin pointed out. “Not for some time.”

  Cole muttered a curse. “That woman spit enough poison while you were young. She hasn’t had to show up to keep you under compliance.”

  “I didn’t think she had a hold of me,” Gavin thought aloud, “until last night when she showed up at Zelda’s.”

  “I was under her hold once,” Cole reminded
him. “I know how hard it is to break it.”

  Here Gavin turned the focus on Cole, measuring him closely. “How’d you do it? How’d you keep her from coming back here, hassling you?”

  Cole thought about it. “First, I’ll need to tell you a story—one that might not make you look too well on me.”

  “Try me,” Gavin charged.

  “Thirty years ago, I didn’t come to Fairhope or Hanna’s Inn by chance,” Cole explained. “I came here because Tiffany told me I should.”

  “This was after the divorce?” When Cole nodded, Gavin scowled. “Why would you do that?”

  “I had nothing,” Cole said, spreading the fingers of one hand. “She’d taken everything I cared out.”

  Gavin put the pieces in place himself. “She dangled it over your head, so you’d do exactly what she wanted.”

  “All I wanted was to be a father again,” Cole pointed out. “She promised me visitation if I infiltrated Hanna’s Inn and got the information she needed to buy it out from under the Brownings.”

  “Did you do it?” Gavin asked.

  Cole looked away. “I did enough that it’s a wonder Briar chose to forgive me eventually. It’s hard to live with it, still, knowing how deeply I felt for her while I betrayed her. Trust me when I tell you I know the power Tiffany can wield over someone’s life when she puts her mind to it.”

  “How did it stop?” Gavin asked. “You did stop it. She never comes anywhere near the inn or the two of you.”

  “There was a break-in during that time,” Cole told him, “in the front office. The window was smashed, the place was trashed, and there were enough elements missing for me to draw a link to Tiffany. I leveraged it against her. And when she tried to push back, Olivia and Adrian threatened to tip off local authorities. Tiffany doesn’t come around anymore because she knows if she does, they’ll make sure she goes to jail.”

  Gavin absorbed the revelations, tracing the pattern in the place mat under his hand. Could he do the same—leverage enough against Tiffany to get her to back down?

  “She managed to fight back after all of it, nonetheless,” Cole added.