A Place with Briar (Harlequin Superromance) (8 page)

“This is our daughter, Jane,” Mrs. Josefstine introduced. “You’ll have to excuse her. Can’t seem to go anywhere without her iPhone.”

Cole nodded to Jane, who lifted her fingers and waved before going back to texting. “How long are you in town for?” he asked.

“If the weather stays as fine as it was today, we hope a week and a half,” Mr. Josefstine replied.

Cole felt a lick of relief. He wouldn’t be alone with Briar before he left, from the sounds of it.

The swinging door to the kitchen opened and Briar appeared, carrying a large serving platter piled with roast and potatoes. She’d dressed up for dinner, too, her hair piled on her head in a neat chignon and her figure adorned in a belted, sleeveless purple dress. She wore two-inch heels and still moved with her usual proficiency despite the small hitch he caught when she spotted him at the table.

“Ah, doll,” Mr. Josefstine said as Briar laid the platter carefully over the trivets. “Smells divine.”

“You’ve outdone yourself,” Mrs. Josefstine added as Briar pulled the lid off a serving dish of green beans she’d no doubt picked fresh from her own garden and produced a ladle for the wafting gravy boat. “A fine Southern home-cooked meal without the labor. This is certainly a treat.”

Briar offered her a grin as she placed a floral-patterned plate in front of each of them then proceeded to fill their wine goblets. For Jane, she poured sweet tea over a glassful of ice. “I hope everyone enjoys it. Make sure to leave room for dessert. The coffee cake’s cooling. And if there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

“There’s no place setting for you, dear,” Mrs. Josefstine noted, brows winging together.

“I’m not hungry just yet,” she explained. “But please, dig in. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

The hell she wasn’t hungry. He’d heard her working in the kitchen for hours. And had seen her dealing with the family’s laundry before that. There was no telling what else she’d managed to talk herself into doing around the inn since her last meal. “Why don’t you sit down, Briar?”

As her eyes shifted to him, they narrowed slightly. Before she could turn him down, Mrs. Josefstine chimed in. “We insist! If not to eat then let us at least pick your brain.”

Pursing her lips, Briar folded her hands over her belt, considering what little choice she had. Then she nodded silently and took the empty chair at the head of the table. Two seats away from him.

“Here,” Mr. Josefstine said around a mouthful, lifting the wine bottle. “Have a glass.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Josefstine,” she said then leaned back, crossing one knee over the other, and sipped. Cole tried to ignore both the movement of her long, smooth legs and how perfect she looked in candlelight with her hair drawn back from her exquisite face. “How do you like the roast?”

“So succulent,” Mrs. Josefstine murmured, closing her eyes to savor it. “I haven’t had anything so fine since my mother passed away.”

Briar’s eyes softened. “I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

Mrs. Josefstine waved a hand. “It’s been seven years this September. Her heart wasn’t ever strong enough to support her ambitions. My sisters and I were surprised she held out as long as she did without slowing down.”

Briar’s lips curved. “Sounds like she was a force of nature.”

Mr. Josefstine chuckled knowingly. “To say the least.”

“Did you do the decorating yourself?” Mrs. Josefstine asked, looking around the dining room.

“Some,” she explained, picking up the gravy boat and holding it out to Jane so the girl could easily ladle it over her serving of roast. “Most of it hasn’t changed since my mother ran the inn. She had much more of an eye for such things than I do.”

“Family business,” Mr. Josefstine grunted between forkfuls of potatoes.

“Very much so,” she agreed. “I try to stay true to her vision.”

“From what I see, you’ve done a fantastic job,” Mrs. Josefstine said. “Is your mother retired?”

Briar looked down at the tablecloth, absently brushing away a speck of lint. “I’m afraid she passed away, too. A year ago this past winter.”

Mrs. Josefstine patted her arm. “A shame. She must’ve been so young. Was it an accident?”

“Cancer,” Briar replied. “By the time they found it...despite treatment, it was too late.”

Cole stopped eating. His stomach twisted at the grief still prevalent in her eyes. And the guilt he’d begun to feel the night before overwhelmed him now when he thought again of the medical bills.
Cancer. A year ago.

Despite his efforts not to find out why Briar was losing the inn, it now became so clear. He could say nothing as the Josefstines offered their condolences.

“And you’ve run the business on your own since she passed?” Mrs. Josefstine asked.

“Well, of course there was family who pitched in at first.”

“Your father?”

This time Briar’s eyes darkened before they lowered again. Her voice dropped, tightening. “No, my father had other priorities. My aunt helped mostly. Her daughter, my cousin, owns what was once her and my uncle’s business, Tavern of the Graces, next door.”

Mrs. Josefstine shook her head. “Still, I imagine that was a tremendous burden placed on you.”

Shifting in her chair, Briar cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t call it a burden.” A faraway glint entered her eyes. “When I was younger, I wanted nothing more than to live here and work here. And a part of me has always known that if ever my mother were to retire, I would be the one to take her place as innkeeper. I suppose I just didn’t expect to be taking her place so soon.”

Mr. Josefstine nodded. “Kids nowadays don’t know the first thing about hard work.” Nudging Briar with an elbow, he murmured discreetly, “You could teach our Janie a thing or two.”

She laughed at his conspiratorial wink. “More wine, anybody?”

Plates cleared ten minutes later. Briar stacked them and took them into the kitchen. It took Cole less than a minute to rise and follow her.

Small dessert plates were already laid out on the round table. She was slicing the coffee cake and transferring a piece onto each. When she looked up, her hands froze at the sight of him. “Need something?”

“I’ll take those,” he said, lifting the first two plates. She frowned after him as he carted them into the dining room. She followed him with the last two and he took one, setting it under Jane’s nose.

“Don’t you want some?” she inquired as she headed back to the kitchen.

“You aren’t having a slice,” he pointed out, brushing pointedly by her.

The kitchen door swung shut at her back and her polite tone sharpened to cleave. “What are you doing?”

The dishes piled in the sink caught his eye. He picked up the first plate and scraped the leftovers into the waste disposal. “When you sit down and eat, I’ll join you.”

She sighed, her heels clicking fast across the floor. Her hand gripped his wrist, stopping him. “This is just silly.”

He raised his hard gaze to hers. “Sit down and eat, Briar.”

“This is
my
kitchen!” she yelled, exasperated.

He let the plate clatter into the sink, anger rearing its ugly head. “For Christ’s sake, what good is that when you’re too weak to stand, much less fix a four-course meal and keep ignoring that gaping hole in your stomach?”

Mouth dropping wide, she gawked at him, speechless.

“Sit down and eat,” he said again, slowly.

She stared him down for several seconds then dropped to the table with a huff and filled a plate with far less than her usual poise.

Relieved, he continued to clean the dishes until they were stacked on end in the sink drainer. The silence between them hadn’t cooled at all by the time he finished drying his hands.

She dropped her fork with a clatter and moved her chair back to rise. “They’re probably done with dessert.”

His hand closed over her shoulder, keeping her in place. “I’ll get it.”

“Cole—”

“If you want to avoid another argument, Briar, I suggest you stay and finish eating,” he warned.

She looked at him, brow furrowed. “I don’t need your pity.”

He rubbed his back teeth together then took a deep breath. “I just want to see you eat a full meal for once.”

“It’s not your job to look after me,” she muttered.

“Then who the hell else is going to do it?” he demanded. “You work too hard.”

“I do my job, and nobody ever had any complaint about it until now.”

“That’s because nobody’s ever taken the time to look.”

“Why do you?”

Damned if he didn’t know. “Just finish eating. Please. I’ll take care of the Josefstines.”

* * *

B
RIAR
FUMED
SILENTLY
over Cole’s behavior. The only reason she’d allowed him to help her serve dessert was to avoid making a scene in front of the Josefstines, who’d been watching the exchange with great interest.

Yet the tirade she’d worked herself up to while shoveling food down her throat under Cole’s watchful eye slowly died as she cleared the silver from the dining room and scrubbed the kitchen until even she had to admit it was spotless. She tucked away the leftovers, glad the Josefstines had finally retired upstairs and Cole had disappeared, giving her time to brood.

She’d hated the greasy humiliation that had coated her when Cole demanded she sit and eat everything off her plate—the goading words still itched beneath the surface. But under it all had been genuine concern. Whatever he’d said, however grating his tactic, his intentions had been good. She’d been so hungry...and yet there’d been so much to do.

After setting the coffeemaker’s timer, she realized her work downstairs was done. With a sigh, she walked into the sitting room, repositioned the sofa’s toss pillows and folded the throw blanket. Reaching down to switch off the lamp, her eyes snagged on the figure standing on the sun porch.

Her heart rate doubled in both alarm and pleasure. She dropped her hand from the switch, hesitated then crossed the threshold and walked to him.

The inn lawn beyond the room’s panorama windows was spotlighted by the moon. The white beam of it dipped over the bay, waters undulating under its pallid caress. For a moment, she stood next to him, arms folded across her chest. Then she spoke, voice lowered reverently. “When it gets quiet like this and the light shines on the water like that, I remember her most. I hear her voice. I feel like I’m that little girl again, before everything got too heavy...too real. For a moment...it’s like nothing in the world can touch me. It reminds me why I’m really doing all this.”

As the words lingered between them and he offered no response, her cheeks heated. Feeling Cole’s eyes on her, she shook her head. “Sometimes it’s as if she’s been gone such a long time...and at other times it’s like she was here just yesterday. I hate how alone I feel when I realize it’s been eighteen months.”

“Cancer,” he said, frowning at the view in front of them. “I can’t imagine it made things any easier around here, financially.”

“It was devastating.” She nodded. “In every way.”

He blew out a breath, shifting his feet as if he were uncomfortable. There was something like a grimace on his face as he continued. “Are you doing all right now? With the inn, I mean?”

She thought about the bills on her desk, the messages on her answering machine demanding late payments, the interest on all those payments that kept stacking higher and higher the longer she was forced to put off those payments. Yes, he’d overheard quite a bit of her conversation with the county tax official, hadn’t he?

Rubbing a finger against the line between her brows where a dull headache had dwelled for much of the afternoon and evening, she said simply, “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Isn’t there anyone who can help?”

She looked at him. It was as if his face were etched from stone—so hard and rigid. “It’s not your problem to worry about, Cole.”

He looked at her, lips parted to say something. Then he stopped. His face slowly softened as he stepped close, so close she could smell the bay on him. Clearly, he’d been out walking the shore. “She must’ve been beautiful.”

She blinked. “Who?”

“Your mother.”

Swallowing hard, she nodded. “In her own warm, quiet way, she was very beautiful.”

“Like you.”

She blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Her gaze dropped from his quickly. “I think the wine’s gone to your head.”

“No.” He shifted closer.

Her pulse leaped into overdrive. Oh, dear Lord, he was going to kiss her again.

“I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. And I’m not just talking physically. Inside, Briar, you outshine everyone around you. Do you know that?”

She closed her eyes, began to shake her head in denial.

He blew out a short laugh. “Of course you don’t. You see everyone but yourself.”

“Cole...” Her breath hitched and she stopped to gather it. “I need you to know...I’ve been taking care of myself, and others, for a long time. That’s my job.”

“That’s just the thing, though,” he intervened, eyes growing pained again. “Knowing now what you said at dinner, how long you’ve been holding this place together, especially under those circumstances... Adrian’s right. You need someone to take care of
you.
”

Her lips parted. “Wait. What? Adrian...?”

His expression cleared, obviously realizing what he’d said too late. “We were just talking...”

“About me,” she said, locking her arms together again in a stance she damn well knew was defensive. “At the tavern.”

“Yes, at the tavern. And she only said you’ve been running Hanna’s capably and single-handedly. But at the end of the day most people need someone. You said it yourself just now.... You
are
alone here.”

Her chin rose swiftly. “You two discussed this in detail, did you?”

He held a hand up. “Please, Briar. Don’t get upset. She’s concerned. Hell, I’m concerned and I’ve been here less than two weeks.”

“Did Adrian happen to mention that she runs a business and goes home to a bed as empty as mine? Not to mention she has a son who she drops off and picks up from school Monday to Friday, and takes to soccer practice twice a week? Oh, and how about that she spends every waking hour worrying that her abusive ex-husband is going to show up and snatch her boy away from her?” She threw her hands in the air. “And you, Cole? There’s no ring on your finger. As far as I know, there’s no one waiting for you. How dare you try to tell me I need someone in my life when you’re just as alone as I am.”