“What you did to Clint...” She trailed off and swallowed hard. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me.”
“Assault is something I don’t tolerate,” he groaned. “No one should.”
“It was only a kiss he wanted. He was drunk and things just...escalated.”
Cole had seen the greed in Clint’s eyes, the way they’d skimmed her torso, the way they lit up when he touched her skin. Fury slunk into Cole and he worked carefully for a moment to contain it. Cole had seen his like too many times to count. The man had wanted more.
“He won’t touch me again. Not after you scared him like that.” Grinning, she added, “It was sort of funny hearing him scream like a girl.”
Relieved to see her smile, he stroked her cheek and watched her eyes flutter closed. Pulling his hand away as if burned, he cleared his throat. “No, he won’t touch you again. Not as long as I’m around.”
The smile melted from her face and the light in her eyes faded. He knew she was thinking about his check-out date. She cleared her throat and changed the subject, careful not to look at him. “Adrian said you used to be a detective.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice surprisingly rusty.
“You’d make a good cop.”
Cole dropped the rag from her head, set it aside. “I don’t think you have a concussion.”
She sighed in obvious relief. “Good. I don’t think I could’ve handled the hospital tonight.”
“Still, expect to wake up with a rough headache in the morning. Think you can sleep?”
“Maybe.”
He pulled the spread up and over her, tucking it around her shoulders, and switched off the light. “Good night.”
“Cole.”
As he glanced back, Briar looked too pale in the shadows. Too vulnerable.
“I’d feel better if you stayed a bit.”
Swallowing hard, he hesitated halfway between the bed and the door, both calling to him for reasons that dwelled on opposite poles. “You need your sleep,” he decided, looking away.
She let out a breath. “You’re right. I’m...sorry to have to ask something else of you, but could you lock up downstairs? Liv has a key if she wants to look in on me later.”
“Sure,” he answered, taking several steps toward the door before he could change his mind. “Don’t worry about it. Just get some sleep.”
“Good night, Cole.”
* * *
BRIAR’S ATTACK PROVIDED the perfect opportunity to check out the inn’s records and gain some insight into the establishment’s shaky finances. And Cole seriously doubted that someone as attached to the family business as Briar was would let it go belly-up without tapping all possible resources, such as buyers or investors.
However, as Cole lay in bed fully clothed in the dark with his gaze fixed on the ceiling, the knot in his throat grew larger.
Yes, it was the perfect opportunity—perhaps his only chance to get in and out of Briar’s files unseen. But there was something else at work now....
Maybe he’d gone soft since turning in his badge because he couldn’t motivate himself to invade her privacy—not after the scare she’d had tonight in the tavern.
But she was okay—probably sleeping. Turning on his side to force his attention away from the ceiling—and Briar somewhere on the other side of that white, orange-peel expanse—he tried not to dwell on the fact that concussion victims could slip into comas if they fell asleep. No, she was fine. It was time to do what he was here to do.
Driving a fist into his pillow, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stepped lightly to the floor of his suite, careful not to wake the creaky, old footboards beneath him. As he turned the knob of the door, he ignored the knot in the back of his throat and how bad he felt about what he was going to do next.
Gavin, he remembered. All he had to do was think about his son. He pulled the door open and stepped out into the dark hall.
No sooner had he moved onto the landing than he heard the creak of the stairs in front of him.
He bit back a curse. No time to step back into his room and erase his tracks. The top of Olivia’s head came into view and he gripped the banister in as casual a stance as he could manage.
Damn, why hadn’t he heard her come in? He was going soft.
“Cole,” she said, surprised as she made it to the landing. “You’re up late.”
“I heard you come in,” he lied. Clearing his throat, he jerked his thumb toward the stairs that led to Briar’s rooms. “I just wanted you to know I saw her to bed. She seemed fine, but I’m glad you’re checking on her.”
She smiled at him. “You’re worried. That’s so sweet.”
He was worried about her. No acting involved there. “I guess,” he said for lack of anything better. “Anyhow...” He pushed off the banister and backed toward the door of the bay-view suite. “I’ll let you go on up.”
Olivia patted his arm as she passed him. “Thanks again, Cole—for everything. You’re a real hero.”
Disguising the knee-jerk, disagreeable sound in his throat with a chuckle, he opened the door and walked back into his room. Frowning at the bed, he balled his hands into fists again.
Sleep wouldn’t come as easily tonight as it had previously in the suite’s bed. He consoled himself with the thought that tomorrow... Yes, tomorrow he would find a way into Briar’s filing system. Then this foul errand, which he already felt tangled in from the neck down, would be over and he could get as far away from Briar Browning as possible.
* * *
TWO DAYS LATER, Briar beamed as she hung up the phone in the inn entryway. It was just past 10:00 a.m. and already she had two families booked for the week. Her sigh wavered with relief, and she felt elated.
Guests meant she was another foothold closer to rising above the treacherous cliff she and the inn were dangling over. It hadn’t occurred to her that at some point she’d begun to look forward to bookings because some part of her still enjoyed preparing for them. As she made her notes on how to prep for each family’s specific needs, the urge to get back to work and arrange for a full house was strong enough to make her tap her foot against the side of the check-in podium.
The dull headache that had followed the run-in with one of Olivia’s tavern chairs was down to a subtle throb, easily masked by a small dose of painkillers.
With two cups of coffee in her system already, plus the last-minute reservations filling the days of the guest calendar in front of her, Briar’s disposition went from cheerful to downright sunny for the first time in weeks.
Lunch. It would be lunchtime soon and Cole would likely be roaring back on that Harley of his. Touching a hand to the center of her chest, her smile faded a bit. Since the night he had gallantly carried her up to bed, even casual thoughts of him were accompanied by the flutter of her heart.
Scrubbing the heel of her hand against her sternum, she closed the guest book and walked to the kitchen. There was no room in her life for feelings like this. Especially since Cole was a temporary fixture in her life. Less than a fixture actually, because for the past couple days she’d seen very little of him.
“Roxie,” she said, turning around as the door to the kitchen swung open. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Roxie lifted a shoulder. “I had some spare time and thought I’d drop by. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Have a seat—help yourself to some coffee.” Briar went to the sink to busy her hands. She pushed her sleeves up and began to rinse the tomatoes that waited in a basket on the counter. “Roxie, I should apologize for the way I acted the other night in the tavern. There’s no excuse for being rude to you and your fiancé.”
“You weren’t rude at all,” Roxie assured her as she joined Briar at the sink. Her eyes widened as she reached ov
er to pick up one of the tomatoes. “These are bigger than my mother’s. You should sell them.”
“I would if I didn’t use them all for cooking,” Briar explained. “They get bigger each year. Soon I won’t be able to get them through the door.”
“That’s when you enter them in the county fair and win prizes,” Roxie advised. Her warm grin faded after a moment and she put a hand on Briar’s arm. “Olivia told me that you’re uncomfortable with me knowing about the inn’s troubles.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, I think it is something.” Roxie read her well. “And it’s worrying you a great deal. I wasn’t painting pictures when I said I want to help. I can pay more on the lease if you need me to.”
“No,” Briar said, shutting off the water and drying her hands. “I already charge you girls enough. It’s just...this was my mother’s place. She’s gone and Hanna’s has to continue running, no matter what.” She gestured to the table. “If you’re not in a hurry, I have some leftover biscuits from breakfast if you want some.”
“Sure,” Roxie said. “Olivia and Adrian rave about your cooking.”
“A year and a half of cooking school,” she explained. “Anyway, I want to hear more about the boutique. How’s it coming along?”
“Wonderfully—quicker than I anticipated. I’m just thrilled with how things are progressing.”
“Have you mentioned the package deal to the others?” Briar asked.
“Oh, yes. Adrian jumped on it and had a proposal and spreadsheets lined up for me the next morning. Olivia seemed happy about the veranda being put to good use. We just need to iron out the details and we can start marketing it as soon as I open Belle Brides for business.”
Through the screen door, the sound of an uninhibited engine poured loudly through the quiet of the inn. Roxie’s eyes widened in glee. “Ooo, I was hoping I’d get to meet your tavern hero.”
Briar frowned. “He’s been gone most of the morning. Most of yesterday, as well. I guess he’s come back for lunch.” Her heart did that inconvenient jump when the kitchen door opened and Cole walked in, his brow wet and the front of his plain white T-shirt damp from perspiration. As he glanced around the kitchen, his dark eyes caught the light and flickered. Briar’s stomach muscles softened, trembled.
“Sorry, ladies. Am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all,” Briar said quickly. Composure, she urged as she opened the refrigerator. “I made some fresh lemonade if you’re thirsty.”
He watched her take down a glass. “Parched, actually.” After a moment, he glanced at Roxie. “Cole Savitt.”
“Pleased to meet you, Cole,” she acknowledged. “Roxie Honeycutt.”
Cole stuck out a hand for her to shake then pulled it back when he saw the grease on his fingers. “Sorry. I’ve been working on my bike for the better part of the morning.”
“Nothing like a little early morning mechanics,” Roxie commented. “I’m opening a bridal shop above Adrian’s florist.”
“Oh, right,” Cole said. “She mentioned you.” Briar handed him the cool glass. “Thanks, this looks great,” he said appreciatively and sipped. “Tastes great, too.”
“Want some lunch?” she asked.
“Actually, I was going to grab a shower before I stink up your kitchen.”
“Do you need fresh towels?” she asked as he turned to go upstairs.
“Just the one will do.”
“I’ll wash the others,” she offered. “Give me a minute to get you a clean stack.”
He nodded, lifting the glass. “Thanks again for the drink. It was nice to meet you, Roxie.”
“Likewise.” As she watched him walk out, Roxie tilted her head to admire the view. “Mmm. Honey, with men like that roaming the earth, global warming is here to stay.”
CHAPTER SIX
UPSTAIRS, COLE stripped off his grimy T-shirt and answered the soft knock on the door with, “Come in.”
Briar pushed the door open but stopped short when her eyes skimmed over his bare chest. She averted her gaze as she walked in, arms laden with fresh white towels. “I brought three, just in case.”
“Thanks.”
She set the stack on the edge of the bed then backed away, her eyes still shifting elsewhere. “I’ll let you shower.”
“Wait,” he said quickly, taking a step in her direction. He heard the swift catch of her breath as he closed in. Her eyes caught his and locked. A hand pressed to her stomach and he wondered what was going on under there.
He’d hardly seen her these past couple days. Avoidance. He was avoiding her like the plague. As soon as he’d seen her walk downstairs for breakfast the morning after her near-concussion, he’d run like the paperboy chased by a pack of neighborhood dogs.
As for his plans for breaking into her filing system? He hadn’t yet found a safe moment. She was always there, the subtle but no less devastating scent she carried on her skin leaving him no room for clear thought or instinct.
On impulse, he moved closer. Briar’s lips parted and he bit the inside of his, hoping they would stop tingling in anticipation. Focusing on her eyes, he swallowed to quench his throat. His palms had gone damp, and he rubbed them against his jeans. Nerves held the silence.
What was his move here?
He hadn’t been able to get into her files so he had to come up with some other way of getting the information he needed, or something close to it at least. Tiffany was hounding him and his dreams were haunted by visions of both Gavin and Briar, each on the verge of being engulfed by the blackness that lurked in his shadow. The closer he got to either of them, the more they disappeared into darkness. He woke in cold sweats throughout the night with the weight of the black pressing on his chest.
“I was wondering...”
“Yes?” she asked after he trailed off, uncertain.
“I was thinking about taking a ride later.”
Her mouth fumbled. “Oh. Right. Well, I can delay dinner, unless you’d like to dine out. There’s a restaurant guide in the packet I gave you.”
He thought quickly. How could he get her to agree to an invitation he knew she would automatically refuse? “Do you ever go out?”
“Out?” she asked as if the term were foreign to her.
“Yeah. Like with friends, for drinks or dinner. Or just for yourself, even?”
She frowned, perplexed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’ve already told you I don’t need to be waited on hand and foot,” he explained. “If you wanted to take the night off and have some time to yourself—”
She let out a short laugh. “Mr. Savitt—”
“Cole,” he corrected.
After a moment, she conceded. “Cole. I’d much rather tend to your needs.”
He raised a brow, reading way too much into that statement.
So did she, judging by her quick flush. “I meant...”
He cleared his throat and shifted from one foot to the other. “Yeah, I know what you meant.”
Firming her lips together carefully, she clutched her hands tight in front of her. Her anxiety was all too apparent.
Riding another rare wave of impulse, he took one more step toward her. “What if I told you that nothing would make me happier than if you went with me?”
“Went...where, exactly?” she asked with a frown.
“Out. For a ride.” He watched her eyes go blank and jumped on her uncertainty. “A short one.”
She said nothing, just stared at him.
With a nod, he backtracked. “Don’t worry about it. I knew it was a long shot.”
“Okay,” she interjected.
His smile was quick, unexpected. Anticipation built inside him. He wanted her on his motorcycle, behind him. Wrapped around him. Doin
g his best to shut that line of thinking down, he asked, “You’re sure?”
“When?”
“Um, six o’clock?”
“Fine,” she snapped.
He jerked his head in a terse nod. “I guess I’ll take that shower now.”
“And I’ll just...go.” Her eyes veered down to the dirty towels on the floor by the bed.
He scooped them up before she could. “Here you go,” he offered, shifting them into her arms.
She shifted toward the door. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
As he watched her walk to the landing and disappear from view, he pulled in a long, steadying breath. That tempting, delicate scent of hers he’d grown to need as much as the woman herself lingered, clouding him all over again. Shutting the door smartly in his own face, he pressed a hand to the wooden panels, bracing and cursing himself.
* * *
JUST BEFORE SIX, Briar went up to her rooms. She’d worked in overdrive to finish all the laundry and tidying so she wouldn’t be behind.
There were any number of excuses she could’ve given to get out of her evening plans with Cole. But then he probably expected her to cancel. She imagined him sitting in his suite, waiting for her to knock on his door and pass on her regrets.
She walked into her bedroom, opened the closet and felt a huge lump of dread clog her throat.
What was she supposed to wear for a ride on the back of a Harley? And why had she agreed to it?
It’d almost seemed like a dare. Do you ever go out? The question had needled her. And the fact that he himself had called it a long shot....
Still...motorcycle. Nerves eating away what little bravery she had, Briar rummaged through her clothes. Stepping back, she saw nothing but muted slacks and unsuitable blouses in linen and silk.... She scrubbed her hands over her face, feeling completely inadequate.
What in God’s name could she do with her hair?
There was a brisk knock on the bedroom jamb. Before she could answer, Olivia strolled in. “Hey, cuz. I heard you were feeling better today....”
A Place with Briar (Harlequin Superromance) Page 7
