From Boss to Bridegroom

by Karen Kirst

  Please help. Sharing my innermost thoughts doesn’t come naturally. Of course, I don’t have to tell You that.

  “To be honest...” She pushed the words past her dry throat, clasping her hands tightly at her waist. “I can’t explain how I feel about Quinn.”

  The three females surrounding her exchanged glances.

  “Try,” Megan insisted.

  “He is good-looking.” At Sophie’s nod, Nicole held up a finger. “But he knows it. He’s bossy. Smug.” She recalled how he’d defended her against Kenneth and his buddies. “He’s also protective. Brave. He values honesty. Family.”

  Rebecca smoothed her rich, copper-streaked brown hair away from her brow. “That’s a good start. How does he make you feel?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. Angry. Frustrated—” she ticked off her fingers “—confused.”

  “Confused?”

  “When he puts his arms around me, I kind of melt into him and I feel safe and warm and yet—” She broke off, not about to admit this unnameable longing he evoked in her.

  “Wait. He put his arms around you?” Megan’s brows shot to her hairline. “Did he kiss you?”

  Oops. She wasn’t supposed to mention the springhouse.

  “Ew. No, my boss did not kiss me.” Although, hadn’t that been on both their minds mere minutes ago? His perfect, slightly arrogant mouth had hovered inches from hers, brown eyes glittering. Her palms went damp.

  “Why was he holding you?” Rebecca said.

  “I—I was cold. Look, I’m starving. I didn’t eat breakfast.”

  Her sister stopped her exit with a gentle, staying hand. A trembling smile lit up her face. “It means a lot that you shared what’s in your heart, sis.”

  Nicole found herself returning the smile. “It wasn’t as horrid as I thought it’d be.”

  Megan hugged her. “Don’t worry, we won’t repeat a word.”

  * * *

  Thankfully Quinn didn’t ask about their conversation. Nor did he try to goad her into taking part in any more contests. They passed the remainder of the afternoon in the company of her family, her uncle and cousins engaging him in a variety of topics.

  It was midafternoon when they began to pack up their things. Nicole assumed she’d accompany her mother and sisters home while Quinn returned to his quarters in the mercantile, but he insisted on walking with her.

  “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. It’s my duty to see you home.”

  “It that a Boston rule?”

  “It’s a Darling rule.” He waited patiently for her to take his arm, challenge lurking in his eyes.

  The afternoon had been a trying one on many levels. She yearned to be alone with her thoughts, needle and thread in hand and a creation taking shape beneath her stitches. But he was adamant.

  Sighing, she took it, keenly aware of the hard muscle beneath her fingertips and the occasional brush of their shoulders as they walked. Strolling along the darkened store fronts, she glanced surreptitiously at his profile.

  Had Quinn ever been in love? He’d intimated people admired him solely for his wealth and status, but there was more to him than that. In addition to his good looks, he had a quick wit and dynamic personality. He could be kind and thoughtful when he put his mind to it.

  Not that she’d ever tell him that.

  “What’s brewing in that mysterious mind of yours?” Angling his head, he met her gaze head-on without missing a step.

  “I’m wondering how you managed to escape the parson’s trap.”

  “Ah. I thought you didn’t consider me suitable husband material.”

  “I never said that, you know.”

  “You didn’t have to,” he said, and chuckled softly.

  Her heart skipped a beat, wondering what it would be like to be Quinn’s wife. His high-handed attitude would make her crazy within a week...and they’d argue in spectacular fashion...but she’d heard about makeup kisses. And she imagined Quinn was an expert in that area.

  “In the eyes of Boston’s impressionable young socialites, I’m certain you were considered quite the catch.”

  They crossed the wooden bridge suspended above the bustling river, their boots thudding against the worn slats. Something in his expression turned pensive, and she wondered at the cause.

  “As a matter of fact, I came very close to binding myself to one particular young lady. I suppose I’m fortunate to have discovered her true motives before it was too late.”

  The hurt in his voice troubled her, and she unconsciously squeezed his arm.

  “I’m sorry, Quinn.”

  “I was sorry for a long time, too.”

  Nicole strove to comprehend this revelation. So much of the time, he projected a carefree attitude. To know that his heart was as capable of injury as the next person’s altered her view of him.

  Against her better judgment, she gave in to the burning desire to question him. “What happened?”

  He averted his face toward the lush forest on his side of the quiet lane, steps steady and slow and matched to hers.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t have prodded.”

  “I had begun to suspect I was in love with Helene,” he started quietly.

  Envy snaked its way around her throat, surprising in its intensity, threatening to choke off her air supply. It was wrong, so wrong to envy this unknown woman who’d ensnared Quinn’s affections. Good thing you don’t covet his admiration, she comforted herself. That would be unreasonable. And foolhardy.

  “We had a lot in common. I assumed we could have a good life together.” His lips flattened. “Turns out I misjudged her. Helene wasn’t with me because she cared about me, about the man I am when the superficial is stripped away.”

  “She was after your fortune?”

  “And the prestige that comes from marrying into the Darling family,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “So Helene wasn’t from an affluent family?”

  His lip curled. “As a matter of fact, her father was a business associate of ours. Socially speaking, we were on equal footing.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The thing is, Duchess, having money sometimes generates intense greed. People become obsessed with having more. Always more.”

  They passed beneath a low-hanging branch, startling a pair of mourning doves. She tracked their upward flight.

  He’d said he’d come here for a simpler, more meaningful life. Nicole finally understood what drove him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, wishing he hadn’t had to endure such treatment.

  Her heart fluttered at the appearance of his soft smile. “Don’t be. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have recognized what my life was missing. I certainly wouldn’t have wound up in this tiny mountain town.”

  “Most of Gatlinburg’s marriage-minded young ladies come from humble homes. Aren’t you worried history will repeat itself? Even if you weren’t rich, the fact that you own the mercantile makes you a desirable candidate.”

  His gaze probed hers for long, unsettling moments—surely the yearning sliding through the honeyed depths wasn’t directed at her—before shifting to the lane winding through the trees. His shrug offset his serious demeanor. “I’m trusting God to lead me to the right woman. That’s all I can do.”

  Ignoring the pinpricks of discomfort his words inspired, she drawled, “Well, if the numerous longing looks cast your way today are anything to go by, you won’t lack for options.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know to what you’re referring.”

  At his mock innocence, she rolled her eyes. “You mean you didn’t see Harriet Nichols nearly tripping and falling face-first into her potato salad when she passed by you?”

  “It would’ve been
impossible not to.” He chuckled, shaking his head wryly.

  They fell into a companionable silence, with Nicole mentally cataloguing every simpering whisper she’d intercepted while with Quinn. Not one unattached young lady hadn’t noted his presence. As soon as the locals figured out that he was all right for a Northerner, he’d be fielding supper invitations left and right.

  When her lane came into view, she slipped her hand free and stepped away. Here in the pleasant shade, his hair was a richer hue of black, his skin a shade paler and an undergrowth of bristle visible along his jaws.

  Why must she notice these things? And why did he have to be tantalizingly handsome?

  “I can make it the rest of the way without incident.”

  Slipping his hands in his pockets, he smiled, teeth flashing. “Thank you for today.”

  “In spite of my high-handed escort, I had fun.” She smiled. “See you in the morning.”

  She’d half turned to leave when his words stopped her. “Oh, I meant to ask you. I saw a box of cream drops in your kitchen earlier. Your mother and sisters didn’t have a clue who they were for.”

  The burning intensity in his eyes belied his casual tone.

  “Why do you care?”

  “I noticed how you favor them.” He shrugged. “Just wondering who liked them so much.”

  Lillian adored the dainty chocolates. Couldn’t get enough.

  A panicky feeling skittered through her, white-hot anger on its heels. “You have no right to interrogate me about my purchases. You don’t treat your other customers this way. Don’t do it to me.”

  This anger inflicted pain. She didn’t want to be angry at him, not after his revelation and the sense of connectedness it had given her.

  Quinn’s cool fingers closed over her wrist. He bent close, concern warring with suspicion. “You’re overreacting, don’t you think? It was a simple question.”

  Lifting her chin, she glared at him. “Not so simple. Once again, I get the feeling you’re accusing me of something underhanded.”

  “I admit your behavior has led me to wonder if you’re hiding something. Are you?”

  Ripping free of his grip, she gritted, “Goodbye, Quinn.”

  He didn’t say a word as she stalked away. In fact, it was his utter silence that had her glancing over her shoulder at him. Spying him shoving up his sleeves and examining his arms, she stumbled to a halt.

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Checking for scars.” A fierce scowl creased his features. “You, Nicole O’Malley, are the prickliest, most frustrating—” He rammed his fingers through his hair. “I had better stop before I say something I’ll later wish unsaid.” With a stiff, formal bow, he said, “Until tomorrow, Duchess.”

  Shocked into silence, Nicole watched him stride away, despising the awful way he’d uttered the endearment and wishing—absurdly—that things could be different between them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Quinn was going to be sick.

  Standing on the riverbank the next morning, he surveyed the destruction of property. The springhouse door stood ajar. Crocks had been dragged out and smashed to bits, the earth beneath them soaked with milk. Broken jars shone in the early light, jewel-hued vegetables lying discarded in the grass. Half-submerged cheese wheels littered the water’s edge.

  What a complete and utter waste.

  He didn’t hear Nicole’s approach until she was right beside him. “Quinn, what happened?”

  Having recovered from his irritation with her—he wasn’t one to hold a grudge—he flicked her a quick glance, absorbing her serene, ice-blue-bedecked elegance. The shock and disgust swirling in his gut was reflected on her face.

  “Someone is trying to send a message. What that might be, I have no inkling.”

  She clasped her throat. “This is horrible. Can anything be saved?”

  “The springhouse is empty. The perpetrator did a thorough job.”

  The anger humming through his veins was understandable. The defeat riding along with it, on the other hand, wasn’t something Quinn was used to handling.

  “I have the funds to replace everything, of course.” He toed a shard of broken glass. “What bothers me is the malice behind the act. A waste like this is hard to take when there are people in the nation who don’t have enough to eat.”

  “When did you discover it?”

  “Just a few minutes ago. Doesn’t look like animals have disturbed anything which tells me it’s a recent job.”

  Her hand on his shoulder startled him. Glancing down into her jewel-bright eyes swimming with compassion, he wondered how one woman could evoke such opposing emotions. There were times he didn’t know if he wanted to shake her or hug her. Or kiss—

  Quinn crushed the thought before it could fully take hold. Focus on the issue at hand, Darling.

  Frustration broke through his reserve. “I don’t understand why someone would do this. I’ve done everything I can to befriend the townspeople, to garner their trust. And now this...”

  “It could be someone who doesn’t like the fact you’ve taken Emmett’s place.” She removed her hand, a dark frown forming. “Or it could be Kenneth and his friends.”

  Quinn had seen the trio at the celebration and prayed they would keep their distance, for both their sakes. A public confrontation would’ve only served to embarrass Nicole and worsen general opinion of him.

  “You’ve worked here for six months. Has anything like this happened during that time?”

  “No, but you’re forgetting you stood up for me. No one has ever done that.”

  “I will always stand up for you, Nicole.”

  His vow had obviously flustered her. When there was no snappy comeback, he sent her inside to put up a sign letting customers know there wouldn’t be any dairy today. While she manned the store, he fetched Shane, who was equally disturbed by the senseless crime.

  Shane helped him clean up. Quinn thanked the man, then went inside to find the store packed with customers. Nicole, who was dipping out flour for an impatient woman at the counter surrounded by four whining kids, cast him a help me look. Six people stood behind the woman. Sending up a prayer, he plastered on a pleasant smile and offered to help the next person in line. Their eagerness to conduct business and be on their way overruled their wariness of him, for he found himself with his own line for the first time since his arrival.

  Fighting off a sudden attack of nerves, Quinn disbursed their orders without complication. Not only did he know the location of every item in his store, he was able to calculate trade credit. Being Nicole’s helper all these weeks had paid off. When the last person in line smiled her genuine thanks and left satisfied with the service, he briefly closed his eyes. At last. Progress. Thank you, God.

  The small triumph eased somewhat his upset over the springhouse.

  But then Kenneth, Timothy and Pete waltzed in, elbowing each other and laughing, and his mood soured again.

  Nicole looked up from her ledger and paled. Quinn immediately went to stand next to her, resting a reassuring hand against the small of her back. “I will not let them hassle you.”

  “No need to worry about me.” Edging sideways, she put distance between them, forcing him to drop his hand. He intercepted a customer’s curious stare and understood her reaction.

  “Right.”

  Speculation about their relationship running rampant through town wasn’t what either of them needed. Still, he stuck close to her, determined to prevent a repeat of last time. His assistant was a strong, independent woman, but going up against three oversize idiot males wasn’t likely to have a good outcome.

  Kenneth made eye contact across the store, his arrogant smirk making Quinn’s blood boil. The young man was the only one with obvious motive for revenge. A bully
like him wouldn’t take kindly to being chastised in the midst of Main Street for all to see. As Nicole had suggested, he had reason to retaliate.

  There was no way to prove his theory. Shane had promised to return that evening to conduct a second search, but he’d warned Quinn not to get his hopes up.

  The men’s laughter grated on his nerves. Nicole’s composure became increasingly strained as she measured out fabric for a young lady. He could see the tightening about her mouth, the slight trembling in her hands.

  Anger spiking, he was about to order them to leave when Megan and Lucian entered. The trio sobered at the sight of Nicole’s sister and brother-in-law. While Lucian Beaumont was not related by blood, he was an imposing man both in physical stature and manner, his confidence a product of an upbringing and family situation that mirrored Quinn’s.

  As the couple approached the counter, Kenneth led his friends out the door.

  Quinn was satisfied to see Nicole’s stance soften with relief. The knowledge that he’d willingly shelter her from any and all trouble should’ve bothered him more than it did. He felt the same way toward his sister. Made sense that he’d feel this way about someone in his employ.

  He greeted Lucian with genuine warmth.

  The dark-haired man pointed at the sign in the window. “What happened to your dairy supply? Caleb been shorting you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  When he’d informed them both, Lucian’s countenance grew troubled. “Do you have any suspects?”

  “I have my suspicions, but no way of proving them. Yet.”

  Glancing around at the handful of customers still browsing the aisles, the other man said quietly, “Why don’t you join us for supper tonight? We’ve been meaning to invite you, anyway. It would give us a chance to discuss matters in private.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Tucking her hand in her husband’s, Megan leaned across the counter. “Come with him, Nicole.”

  She hesitated in tying up the fabric with a string. “Can’t. I have too much to do after work.”