A Place with Briar (Harlequin Superromance)

by Amber Leigh Williams

  “Aw,” Roxie cooed. “He called you dear.”

  Briar pried the note from Olivia’s fingers before she could read the rest of Cole’s message aloud. “We should keep it down. We might wake the Josefstines.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “Killjoy.” She glanced at Adrian. “What’s with you?”

  Briar looked at Adrian whose tension throughout the conversation couldn’t be masked. “Is something wrong?”

  Adrian looked thoughtful for a moment then set her coffee down. “I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time, Briar. I just don’t want you to rush into anything.”

  “Well, aren’t we Miss The-Glass-Is-Half-Empty?” Olivia muttered.

  “I just want you to be careful,” Adrian said, ignoring Olivia. “He’s a good guy. Promise me you’ll take it slow, though? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “None of us wants to see her get hurt,” Roxie asserted.

  Briar tucked Cole’s note back in her apron. “I think it’s pretty clear that I’m not going to rush anything.” Setting her coffee aside, she cleared her throat. “As much as I’ve enjoyed having breakfast with you ladies, I really should get to work.”

  Roxie rose, licking a small drop of icing from her thumb. “Right you are about that. I’m off to the home improvement store to buy paint.”

  Olivia shook her head as Roxie exited through the screen door into the dewy morning air. “She’s as giddy about home improvement shopping as she is about dressing mannequins in lace and chiffon. I swear she spends her free time skipping through meadows and chasing rainbows.” She patted Briar’s shoulder and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “In all seriousness, I’m happy for you, cuz.”

  In response, Briar simply touched a brief hand to the one Olivia had lain on her shoulder and smiled. “Come by for lunch.”

  “I’ll try.” Olivia eyed Adrian sternly. “If Debby Downer here doesn’t conjure up a midsummer’s storm in the meantime.”

  Briar waited until Olivia followed Roxie out before shifting her gaze back to Adrian’s face. “She’s neither an optimist nor a pessimist. I don’t think she rightly knows how to appreciate one or the other.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Adrian said, eyeing the last bit of food on her breakfast plate.

  When neither of them said a word, Briar rose from the table and began to clear it. She didn’t like this unsettled feeling between her and Adrian. She didn’t know how to handle it, either. Confronting tension head-on hadn’t served her well with her father, had it?

  “Can I help?” Adrian asked when Briar turned on the tap to rinse dishes.

  “No, thanks, I’ve got it,” she assured her.

  Adrian shifted from one foot to the other, walked to the counter’s edge and gripped it uncertainly. “Briar...I hope you know that I want nothing more than to see you happy.”

  Briar looked over and caught Adrian’s earnest stare. She offered a small smile. “I know. And I hope you know that your opinion means a great deal. You’re always honest with me, and I’d take brutal honesty over hearing only what I want to hear any day.”

  Crossing her arms across her chest, Adrian turned and settled back against the counter. The frown still pulled at her mouth as she fixed her gaze to the floor. “Twice I’ve gotten caught up in the idea of something—the idea of someone. Both times it brought me nothing but disaster. The only good thing that came out of either relationship was Kyle. And while he was well worth everything I had to fight through to have him in my life, the pain’s still there. And so is the regret.”

  She pressed her lips together as she turned back to face Briar. “I’m a pessimist, it’s true. But I used to be much more like you. I don’t want you to go through the pain that I went through.”

  Briar’s brows drew together as her attention strayed to the first golden fingers of light poking through the dense daybreak fog. “Thank you for caring that much, Adrian. But if life’s taught me anything, it’s that happiness doesn’t wait in the wings.”

  Adrian’s mouth slowly softened into a grin. “Maybe it’s you who should be giving me the advice.”

  Briar let out a small laugh and shook her head. “No, because at the very end of all this you might be the one saying ‘I told you so.’”

  Adrian patted her on the back. “Trust me. Whatever happens, you’ll never hear me say that.”

  * * *

  NIGHT HAD FALLEN and the inn was already glowing with warm, homey light from within by the time Cole rolled back in on his motorcycle. Though he hadn’t been able to explain everything to Briar in the note he wrote her, he’d left Hanna’s at the crack of dawn so he wouldn’t miss Tiffany and Gavin’s departure from Ono Island.

  He’d needed to say goodbye—to look into his son’s eyes one more time and know that what he was doing here at Hanna’s was worth it in the end. Saying goodbye to the kid had hurt just as much as returning here, realizing once again that he could never have the semblance of home the inn had come to represent for him. As much as he wanted to think that homey light within was reserved for him alone, it was an illusion, one he had to ignore as much as the hand inside him that reached for it.

  As quietly as possible, he crossed the threshold, walked through the dim entryway and toward the canned noise of the television down the hall. He stopped short of entering the sitting room where the Josefstines sat on the couch watching a late-night sitcom, their daughter curled up in a chair. In the shadow of the banister, he looked beyond them to the windows that faced the bay on the sun porch beyond.

  The dock where he’d kissed Briar—where she’d kissed him—was somewhere out there.

  It would be another sleepless night. The war he waged with himself over what he wanted and what he had to do to get it, was growing more costly and damning with each day. He had a very real sense that even if he did get Gavin in the end, he would lose his soul in the process. Allowing Briar to look at him as the kind of man who deserved to be in her life would destroy him, sooner rather than later.

  “You missed a fine meal,” Mr. Josefstine commented, catching Cole’s stealth movements in the corner of his eye.

  “I’m sorry for that,” he said, finally facing them and letting that homey light spill over him. “Meeting ran late.”

  Mrs. Josefstine turned her head to smile at him. “She left a plate for you in the oven.”

  He blinked at the thoughtfulness of it then wondered how he could be surprised. The gesture was classic Briar. “Did she go up already?”

  “Preparing one of the suites for tomorrow’s arrival,” she told him. “I think we’re about to tuck in.”

  “Me, too. Have a good night.”

  “Sleep well, dear,” Mrs. Josefstine called after him as he climbed the stairs.

  He was worn out, but he bypassed the bay-view suite, drawn toward the lighted door of the honeymoon suite across the hall. Pushing it open, he saw the stripped bed, gleaming floors and clean drapes over the long, narrow windows. Furniture had been polished and the metal of the wall sconces shined like new.

  She’d been working hard. The scent of lemon tickled his nostrils as did the subtle tinge of fresh-cut grass. On closer inspection, he saw she’d cracked the windows to let the cool night breeze filter through the screens. It was yet another nice room with buttercream walls and light blue accents.

  He heard the sound of scrubbing from the adjoining bathroom. Peering in, he found her on the floor, cleaning the tiles with a vigor some would’ve deemed compulsive. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid and her face was flushed with progress. A thin line of sweat rolled unnoticed down her temple. She bit her lip as she worked briskly over the small expanse, her hand moving fast on the handle of the brush. Her T-shirt rose and fell, offering teasing glimpses of pale skin underneath.

  He’d never seen her in a pair of shorts. T
hey fell to midthigh. Come to think of it, he’d never quite realized just how long her legs were.

  He rapped his knuckles on the door and watched her jerk, snapping out of her frenzied reverie. When her head lifted, he saw slight embarrassment creep into her eyes. “I didn’t know I had an audience.”

  “Only for a moment.” More than a moment. He shifted his feet. They felt oddly heavy.

  She blew out a breath, running a hand over her damp brow before dropping the brush and standing. She winced at the quick motion, falling against the counter as her hand went to her back.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, crossing to her.

  “Mmm.” She braced a hand against the sink and hunched her shoulders. “Wow, that hurt.”

  He steered her from the bathroom and ushered her carefully to the bed. “What hurts?”

  She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut tight. “Nothing. It’s nothing—”

  “Don’t give me that, Briar. Tell me what hurts.”

  She hefted a weary sigh. “It’s just my back.”

  “Here?” he asked, rubbing a hand over the base where her hand had automatically gone. Muscles knotted under his touch. He massaged them with his knuckles.

  “It happens every so often,” she said, biting her lip.

  “How often?”

  She closed her eyes. “It’s nothing to worry about, Cole.”

  He rubbed his hand up the length of her spine. “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “No. Everybody has back pain.”

  He frowned at the grimace that still gripped her features as his knuckles continued to massage. Any thought of hitting the sheets early had vanished as soon as he’d seen the ache flash across her face. He could think of nothing now but salving it. “What kind of pain is it?”

  “Sharp,” she admitted. “Pretty acute. Sometimes it goes all the way up my spine, into my neck....”

  “You need to see a chiropractor,” he said. His hand moved to her neck. He watched her head lull forward as he kneaded the muscles there.

  “Mmm, that’s nice.”

  “Lie down,” he said. When she frowned at him, he nudged her back onto the naked mattress. “Roll.” After a short pause, she flipped to her stomach.

  He positioned himself beside her, lifting her shirt until the fastening of her bra showed. Before he could do anything more than admire the glow of her skin, he placed his fingertips on the small of her back and rubbed.

  A rolling purr answered his kneading. “That’s...that’s very nice,” she said as his fingers worked up her back, inch by inch. Slowly, she relaxed and seemed to sink into the mattress. “Where’d you learn to do this?”

  Her skin was hot under his fingertips as he directed them on a strict path over the pooling muscles. “I had a good doctor. He taught me a few at-home tricks to help relax. You’re tense. You need to learn to let go.”

  The little sounds she made tormented him. He fought to construct those walls around his heart again. They were ill-made, as most quickly constructed things were, wobbly and unsure, but he did his damnedest to make sure they held.

  Once he’d worked his way to her shoulders and back down, her breathing had deepened. Her face looked lax in repose and a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I’d hire you.”

  He laughed. A real laugh. Clearing his throat, he pulled her T-shirt back down. “It’s nothing.”

  “You’re stopping,” she said, peering at him over her shoulder and pinning him with that soft, incandescent stare. The wobbly walls inside him buckled. “I thought we went through this yesterday.”

  He tried not to let his fingers dig into her shoulder as he leaned down slowly and touched his lips to her brow. There’d been a crease there when he came in. It was gone now, but he lingered, wanting to banish it for good. “You work too hard.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Her voice lowered, vanishing into a hum as his fingers spread through her hair, unable to stop from losing themselves in her tresses.

  In turn, his lips grazed to the high point of her cheekbone. “Your skin’s so soft,” he murmured. He’d forgotten how soft a woman could be. He craved the softness of Briar’s skin. The softness of her heart. In fact, the craving worked itself into a keen ache. His heart drummed a quick cadence as he traced his fingertips lightly down her side and a shudder washed through her.

  She rolled to her back. He saw the sleepy flush of her cheeks, the long, heavy sweep of her lids as the lashes lifted. His breath seized and he leaned down to her, overcome by the ache for her.

  “The Josefstines,” he whispered, the words barely audible.

  Her breath flittered over his face, and his heart leaped as her mouth lifted to his. “The door’s closed.” Her warm, narrow hands rose to his face, fingers threading the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.

  He dipped in, savoring every wave of heat that caressed the underside of his skin, mesmerized by every response that shuddered, sighed, hummed out of her. A quiver worked into his hands as needs clashed inside him. The ache swelled into a full-on burn.

  Fighting it, he clenched his hands together on either side of her head, afraid of what they might do if he let them loose. He pulled away, watched the arch of her lashes as they swept back again. What timidity he’d seen in her before had melted into unwrapped desire. Her eyes, dense and dark, answered his need, stirred it anew. It coursed like fine, sultry wine through his blood, inciting him, frightening him.

  He took a gulp of air. “Slow. I promised you we would take this slow.”

  “I want you to stay,” she told him. “I want another week with you.”

  Lowering his brow to hers, he cursed himself inwardly. Yes, he would stay. A week. A month, if she asked. A year.

  Knowing full well they didn’t have nearly that long, he exhaled on a long rush. “I’ll stay,” he assured her. “As long as you need me, I’ll stay.”

  * * *

  HURRICANE BRETT CHUGGED closer and closer to the Gulf Coast with each hour, gaining wind, speed and intensity. The more organized the tropical system was at its core, the deadlier it could be. Forecasters predicted the storm to make a Category 2 landfall and the impact zone had narrowed considerably. The cone was now zeroing in on Pensacola and the Alabama and Mississippi coastlines. Mobile Bay and the Eastern Shore lay right in the center.

  The Josefstines were growing visibly wary as Brett closed in. Gas prices escalated and lines at the pumps grew longer with everyone filling their tanks, anticipating a quick departure. Supermarkets prepared for the rush on batteries, jugs of water and canned goods.

  Briar went about business as usual, as did Olivia at the tavern, Adrian at Flora and Roxie at work preparing Belle Brides for its grand opening. Watching the radar and seeing the monster headed straight for them, Cole began to think they were all crazy, especially when meteorologists discussed the possibility of mandatory evacuations for Gulf Shores and Orange Beach, and closing the interstate’s southbound lane to open traffic to northbound evacuees.

  “It’s starting to sound serious,” Mr. Josefstine muttered to Cole.

  Briar’s tinkering laugh made them both glance up from the television as she carried a tray of apple crisps to the coffee table. “It’s normal. They’re saying all the same for the Florida panhandle and Mississippi. This storm’s going to decide which direction to take within the next twelve hours. It’s best to wait until there’s more certainty. There’ll still be plenty of leeway for driving, especially if they close I-65 South. Where’re you thinking of going from here? Back to Savannah?”

  “We planned to head west and see some of New Orleans before heading back home to Georgia. But you’re right. It all depends on where the big bastard makes landfall.”

  “It’s no Katrina,” she assured him. “That was something to see. Her rain bands covered the
entire Gulf.”

  Olivia breezed in from the kitchen. “I smell apple crisps, and I’m hungry.”

  Briar handed her one neatly on a napkin. “I thought you were giving Roxie a hand today.”

  “We broke for lunch,” she explained. “Want to whip us up a couple of sandwiches?”

  “Yes, of course. Anybody else want a bite?”

  Before they could answer, Mrs. Josefstine walked in, laden with shopping bags, red-faced and nearly panting. “The air’s like molasses out there.”

  “It’s the pressure rising. Here, have a seat,” Briar said, taking the woman’s bags. “I’ll put these in your room.”

  “Oh, dear, you’re busy. Please just leave them there for now.” She shrank to the sofa cushions under the ceiling fan. “Everyone’s milling about today. A few shops are taking down their awnings and boarding up.”

  Olivia snorted. “Premature.”

  As the women retreated into the kitchen, Cole’s cell phone vibrated against his hip. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned at Tiffany’s number on the screen.

  He scowled. She was probably calling for a progress report he wasn’t ready to give. Not after the hour he and Briar had spent nestling in the honeymoon suite the night before. He hadn’t even checked the computer to see whether or not Briar had made any phone calls pertaining to investors or selling. “Yeah?”

  “Surprise.”

  He froze. “Surprise what?”

  “Guess who wanted to see you before we evacuated north.”

  He swallowed panic. There was no way.... “Where are you?” he asked, walking briskly toward the entryway.

  In answer, the blast of a car horn reached his ears. He swore, clapping the phone shut as he rushed out the front door and closed it tight at his back.

  If there was one thing he did not want to happen right now, this was it. As he crossed the porch to the steps, an Escalade pulled to a hasty stop in the gravel drive.