A Place with Briar (Harlequin Superromance)

by Amber Leigh Williams

  “She’s not gone, Briar,” Olivia assured her. “She’s here. She’s always been here. She’s with you, and she’s proud of you. And if Uncle Hud can’t see that, he’s a damn fool.”

  “You’re right,” Briar said with a small grin. “You’re always right. But I’m still living in her shadow. No matter what I do, I can’t measure up. I can’t fill the space she left.”

  Olivia squeezed her shoulder. “I know what you need—a hot bath, a good glass of Chardonnay and a romance novel.”

  Briar let out a laugh. “I wish.” She shook her head. “No, I’ve got too much to do. Look at my vegetables.”

  “That kudzu isn’t going to take over completely in the next twenty-four hours.”

  “But the Josefstines—”

  “Went out to dinner. It’s just you and the hottie in the bay-view suite.”

  Briar caught the mischievous gleam in Olivia’s eyes. She frowned. “He’ll want dinner.”

  “Yeah,” Olivia chipped in. “And you’ll both want dessert.”

  * * *

  UPSTAIRS, IN THE bay-view suite, Cole’s cell phone rang. Reluctantly, he walked to his bedside table. Though he already knew what name he would find on the caller ID screen. He reached for the phone and answered, “Yeah?”

  “I haven’t heard from you in over twenty-four hours. This incommunicado bullshit is starting to get on my nerves, Cole.”

  “I said I would contact you if I had any new information. I don’t.”

  “Again, I’m starting to think you aren’t taking this seriously. I think it’s time for a reality check.”

  Cole frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Gavin and I decided to take a little trip south this weekend.”

  Cole’s grip on the phone tightened as his heart pounded. “Where are you?”

  “A cute little beach house on Ono Island,” she told him, sounding downright gleeful.

  Cole’s heart stopped. The world shifted and he reached out to plant a hand on the wall.

  When he remained silent, Tiffany said, “He’s asking for his daddy.”

  Cole sucked in a long breath as the teeth of pain gnawed at his frayed nerves. “You are the one who made certain I could never see my son again. And now you’re offering him up to me on a silver platter? I don’t buy it.”

  “It’s called visitation. I’m his legal guardian. His sole guardian. If I see fit to let you back in his life then that’s my call. You’re a good daddy, Cole. I’ll give you one day to spend with him. To remember what it is that you could possibly lose here. Nothing like a little motivation to make you do what you’re told.”

  The hand around the phone balled into a fist. It was a wonder the cell didn’t shatter into a million pieces. He tipped the phone away from his mouth to catch his breath. It was blackmail, again. And again he succumbed, willingly. Practically on bended knee. “Where?”

  “Meet us tomorrow, ten o’clock at the public beach in Gulf Shores.”

  “This better not be a trick, Tiff,” he ground out.

  “Temper, temper,” she tutted. “We’ll be there. Trust me.”

  “I don’t.” He ended the call and shrank to the edge of the bed. Again, he stared at the screen as it faded to black. Fighting to breathe, he reached to the bedside table for his billfold.

  He kept only one picture in it. If Tiffany had known, she’d have taken that small token from him, too. He stared into the eyes that matched his own—those sober, dark eyes. The brown, straight cap of hair that grew like weeds and always fell in the kid’s eyes. The wide shoulders that promised more breadth than height.

  Anyone could see the boy belonged to him. Anyone but his ex-wife.

  The knock on the door startled him. He looked up as Briar opened it and peered in. He closed the billfold and dropped it on the pillow beside him, hiding it from view.

  She wore a pink-and-blue-checkered apron and had changed from her gardening clothes to a sleeveless coral blouse and white slacks. “Hi,” she said with a small smile. “I just wanted to check on you.”

  He only stared at her, unable to find words. How could he have ever thought he could have any part of her, even temporarily?

  The smile melted when he didn’t reply. “I’m about to start dinner. We’ll eat in an hour.”

  He looked down at his hands. “You know, Briar, I’m not all that hungry tonight.”

  A slight pause followed the grim admission. “Are you sure? You didn’t eat breakfast again....”

  “I’m sure. I think I’ll just turn in early. A full night’s rest will do me good.”

  “Is the bed okay?” she asked, lacing her hands together in that uncertain way of hers. “If you’re not sleeping well on it, I could remove the mattress pad. It might be—”

  He stood, crossing to her in a handful of strides. She trailed off, lips firming together at his quick movements. Standing close, he leaned over her and murmured, “The bed’s fine. It couldn’t be more comfortable. I just need some space.”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes before she lowered them to his shoulder. “If...if this has anything to do with last night... Well, I’m sorry—”

  “Damn it, Briar,” he said, scrubbing a frustrated hand through his hair. “Last night has nothing to do with this.”

  She didn’t look altogether satisfied. “Well...if you need anything at all, Cole, please let me know how I can help.”

  Did she know how undeserving he was of the understanding and the entreaty in her eyes? He swallowed hard. “I want you to take the night for yourself. Do whatever it is you do when the inn is taken care of.”

  She began to protest, her lips parting. Then she sucked in a breath and closed them. She nodded. “All right, if you’re sure.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured. Suddenly, he wanted to kiss her, so he took several steps back. “I won’t be here most of tomorrow. Don’t worry about feeding me.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She hesitated then gripped the doorknob, backing out. “Rest well.”

  He lowered back to the bed and dropped into the pillows, Gavin and Briar weighing on his mind.

  Several minutes later, he glanced out the window at the sunset and saw his innkeeper strolling alone toward the boat dock, a glass of wine in one hand and a small bowl of salad in the other. She sank into one of two waiting Adirondack chairs, the last light of day falling in gilded, blinding pinpricks on the bay’s listless waters and casting the perfect woman in a lonely silhouette.

  * * *

  THE WOODS HAUNTED him. The high wind rustled through the treetops of the pines that closed in around him and his partner as they approached the small cabin with its blown-out windows and blackened roof. The pine needles underfoot stirred, restless, a brown carpet that never rested.

  Yellow police tape was tied from one tree to another. He ducked underneath it to enter the crime scene. The coroner was there as was the crime scene photographer. Other officers milled about in his periphery as he climbed the rickety steps to the open front door.

  He knew the smell well. In the past ten years, he’d been no stranger to meth lab explosions. This one, however, he could see instantly was one of the worst. Holding his breath, he moved around, taking note as the homicide detective beside him rattled off the particulars.

  The meth lab had been in the kitchen. The walls of the room had blown clean through. There the coroner had already tagged and bagged the three bodies of the dealers he and his partner had been investigating for some time now. Frowning, he felt the bite of defeat. If the warrant had come through a day earlier, they would be behind bars now. Not on their way to the morgue.

  Moving away, he followed the blast radius. Walls were gone, exposing beams that had buckled and now stood cro
oked, making the shanty roofline unstable. They wouldn’t have long to comb through what was left and log their information away with photographs.

  He moved from the small living room into what appeared to be a young child’s room.

  He frowned. It was the closest to the kitchen. The small twin beds were blown askew. The window here was busted, too, its black-out curtain now lying somewhere in the forest. There were few things left that were recognizable. He knelt down and reached for the smudged face of a teddy bear that lay on the floor at his feet.

  Before his fingertips could graze over the surface, he saw the body lying on the other side of the bed. It had already been discovered by the officer first on scene—he had known it would be there. But he hadn’t been prepared for this. The face was turned to him, eyes flat and dead. So young—just four or five.

  He blinked several times when the face of the child blurred into a familiar one. The one of the child he’d kissed on the forehead that morning before leaving for the precinct. His gut churned and he fought for breath. No matter how many times he blinked or looked away, the face didn’t change. It was Gavin’s face. His boy, he was there with him in the wreckage. And he was gone....

  The grief bound him, tied him in place and squeezed until he thought his ribs would shatter. Gripped by pain and terror, he fought the invisible force that bound him in his bones. He was losing it. He had to get out of there. Out of that house...out of those woods...away...far away...

  “Cole?”

  He tore through the remnants of sleep, sitting up in bed. Drenched in sweat, he hitched in a breath. Phantom pain lingered in his lungs and ribs. He exhaled in an unsteady rush, raising his hands to his face to scrub the memories from the underside of his lids.

  The light at his bedside came on and he blinked at the beam of it. A figure hovered over him. “Briar?”

  “Shh,” she murmured. There was a rag in her hand and when she pressed it to his brow, it was cool.

  His heart still pounded. He looked down at the twisted sheets, saw they were as wet with perspiration as his T-shirt. Embarrassment broke through the dregs of panic. “I’m sorry....”

  “Hush,” she said in a gentle voice. Moving the cloth to his neck, she pressed the cool, soothing rag to his skin. “You’re all right now. Everything’s all right.”

  He was calming, leveling off enough to know that she was right. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “You didn’t,” she assured him. “I was going up to bed and I heard you as I passed by your door.”

  He dropped his head and braced his hands on his knees. “Just a bad dream.”

  She said nothing, just continued to press the cold cloth against the heat of his skin until the chill of it finally broke through. Then she asked, “Feeling a little better?”

  He raised his gaze briefly to hers. The humiliation still clawed at him. She’d found him twisting and turning in his sheets like a child. But there was nothing in her eyes to suggest that she thought of him that way. There was only concern and the warm light of reassurance. “Yes,” he replied. “Much.”

  She nodded. “Here, hold this.” Her hand touched his, guiding it up to the cold compress. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

  “You really don’t have to...” He trailed off when the words didn’t stop her from going into the adjacent bathroom. Closing his eyes, he pulled in a careful breath as he heard the tap gush to life. He still felt a bit shaky. It would take some time for that helpless feeling to go away. It would go away, though. It had to. As she came back, he lowered the rag and took the glass she handed him. “Thank you.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she lowered to the edge of the bed and watched him gulp half the water down. “More?” she asked when he set it on the bedside table.

  “No,” he replied and cleared his throat—his words were still coming out like his throat was coated in shards of splintered glass. “You’ve done enough. More than enough.”

  Her hand latched on to his. The warmth of her fingers bled into his skin, into the bones beneath. The sick, shaky feeling he desperately wanted to dismiss fell to a mere near-forgotten backdrop as he watched their hands join.

  Despite the humiliation, he was glad she was here. He didn’t know how he would face her in the morning...but he was glad for her presence nonetheless. She’d calmed him much more effectively than he could have calmed himself. She’d pulled him from the dream before it had become something worse and he woke the whole house.

  When he finally lifted his face back to hers, she was smiling. “You’re fine.”

  He nodded, drinking her in. The goodness in her compelled him. It pushed away the black of his dreams and everything else that was dark in his life. She was a good person, so unlike the other woman in his life. And his deception would ruin her. The light of goodness in her might never recover. What the hell was he doing?

  His gaze lowered to the curved line of her mouth. What he wouldn’t give to taste her right now—to graze his lips over that sweet, bowed line and lose himself completely.

  Wrenching his thoughts out of that dangerous track, he trained his eyes on their hands and watched his pull away from hers. “Thanks again.”

  She lingered for a moment, gauging him as if to make sure he was all right. Then she took the compress and folded it neatly on his bedside table beside the glass. “Please...let me know if you need anything else.”

  Unable to summon any further speech, he gave a short nod and watched her depart. The door clicked closed behind her and he lowered himself against the pillows piled at the head of the bed, releasing an uneven breath and scrubbing his hands through his hair.

  It had been months since the recurring nightmare had crept up on him. At first it had been a nightly torment, then it had begun to fade. Now it came when he least expected it, when he was on the verge of forgetting....

  He saw that face, those eyes, and forced his thoughts elsewhere. Briar. Briar’s face. Briar’s eyes.

  Just Briar. He closed his eyes. He could see her, as she’d been sitting on the edge of his bed. He could all but feel her there.

  He would have thought it impossible, but it wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep again, Briar’s face leading him back into dreams that wouldn’t wake him in cold sweats and panic. Dreams that would heal, nurture.

  Dreams that, in sleep, he wasn’t afraid to wish were real.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE MORNING WAS cloudless, the sun overbright and baking hot. The wind blew out of the south, and Cole wondered if the hair-raising breeze was the breath of Tropical Storm Brett itself, spinning steadily into the middle of the Gulf, hundreds of miles south of Alabama’s coastline but traveling at a sure northeasterly pace.

  Yellow flags flew on the beaches. Waves crashed ashore, rolling in on blue-green crests not yet violent enough for local officials to change the yellow advisories to red, banning people from the water.

  Surfers took advantage of the light action, riding the swells for a short distance before sinking into the water and paddling back out to wait for another. The beach itself was packed with adolescents playing a game of volleyball, couples and small bunches of women lazing on beach towels or lounge chairs, men tossing footballs or Frisbees back and forth, and children dancing in the lapping surf. Some had brought floats and foam noodles to bob between crests. Others zipped by on Jet Skis. In the distance, two people parasailed far above the water, pulled by a long recreational boat.

  The sand was white, fine and warm under Cole’s bare feet as he walked toward the shore, combing the inhabitants’ faces.

  He saw Gavin first and the ache inside him seared. He wore a white T-shirt to protect his pale skin from sunburn and a pair of dark blue swim trunks.

  God, he’d grown taller. Three inches, at least. For all the time that had passed, it
could’ve been a foot. Someone, probably Tiffany, had cropped his hair short, almost to the scalp. The militant cut didn’t look quite right on him.

  Gavin wore a smile as he took his boogie board for a spin, washing to shore on its back before rolling off and getting up to wade out and try it again. Boundless energy. Cole had forgotten how active Gavin was—a force of nature all his own.

  A barb dug into Cole’s chest. He’d already begun to forget. It’d been months since he’d sat across from Gavin in a courtroom. Eight long months since he was barred from him altogether. It’d felt like forever...but what kind of a father forgets?

  “Well, you showed.”

  He glanced up, jolting to attention. Tiffany wore a bright blue sundress and aviator shades. Her long, white-blond hair was held back with some kind of Jackie O bandana. The sand hadn’t stopped her from wearing a pair of wedge heels so her long legs looked even leggier.

  Disgust coated him from the inside out when he saw that she’d been watching him, smiling, from a beach chair close by. “You knew I would,” he muttered bitterly.

  “Like I said last night, I was beginning to wonder....” She followed his gaze to where Gavin played in the surf. “He does miss you.”

  “I won’t mistake that for an olive branch,” he told her, looking back at her with a scowl. “It’s sickening the way you have no problem using our child to blackmail me.”

  “What’s sickening, Cole, is how fast you take the bait,” she said, taking several steps toward him. “Makes me wonder if the man I fell in love with all those years ago exists at all anymore.”

  “I doubt you were ever capable of love, Tiffany,” he battered back. “All I was to you was another mark, even then. Just like Briar Browning.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Cole,” she said flippantly. “I rushed into what we had, but I did love you. Blame the fact that it all went to hell on my youth and naïveté. Despite what you may think, I’m not that great an actress. I fell in love with your strength, your refusal to take crap from anyone. Somewhere along the way, that alpha male in you turned into something weak and malleable. The man I loved no longer exists.”