From Boss to Bridegroom (6 page)

“Coming right up, sir.”

Grinding his teeth, Quinn quickly gathered the items. Up until this moment, he hadn't considered himself a proud man too good for lowly work. He hadn't started out at the top. Edward Darling had thought it important his son experience all facets of the industry. He'd done everything from sweeping factory floors to operating ten looms at once.

Why, then, was being reduced to Nicole O'Malley's go-to boy so difficult to swallow?

Because this is my store. I bought it with my own money, gave up everything I've worked for—upsetting a lot of people in the process—to start over in an unfamiliar place where I know no one.

Neatly folding the paper sacks, he slid them across the counter. “Will there be anything else?”

Lord Jesus, help me not to be prideful. Help me to win these people's trust.

The man squinted at his list. “Nope. That will be all.”

Nicole informed him how much credit he had left and moved on to the next customer. Together, they worked through the line until the last person had been served. The clock chiming three o'clock split the weighted silence.

Without a word, Quinn pivoted on his heel and stalked down the hall to the cramped, low-ceilinged quarters. He needed an outlet for his pent-up frustration. Since he couldn't drop everything and go for a swim, going through the motions of making coffee would have to do. He was filling the kettle with water when Nicole peered around the door frame.

“Is it safe to come in?” she said, cringing when he thumped the kettle down with more force than necessary.

“Enter at your own risk.” Snatching the tin of coffee grounds from the shelf, he slammed it down.

“Even if I come bearing gifts?” Emerald green skirts skimming the polished floorboards, she approached and slowly lifted her hand. Two peppermint sticks lay on her open palm.

He looked deep into her luminous eyes. “Are you trying to tame my surliness with sweets?”

“I am.”

He glimpsed a flicker of compassion, almost imperceptible but there nonetheless, and the loneliness inside him receded a little. Two more attributes went onto the growing list.
Unpredictable. Kindhearted.
The second one was just a hunch and would need to be confirmed.

Quinn accepted the offering only to hold one up to her lips, pressing gently. “I cannot be the only one to indulge.”

Startled eyes stared back at him, confirming she wasn't used to his brand of teasing.
You didn't treat the women in Boston like this, though, did you?
a voice prodded.
Something in her manner provokes you to outrageousness.

When she reached to take hold of the stick, her cool fingers closed over his, the contact unexpectedly comforting. Lowering his hand, he popped the sweet in his mouth and resumed the motions of making coffee.

“They do not trust me,” he said, pulling down two blue enamel mugs from the shelf. “They lack confidence in me.” He hoped she didn't recognize his underlying hurt.

“I don't think Gatlinburg has seen anyone quite like you.”

Pausing in scooping the grounds, he cast her a sidelong look, smiling a little at her attempts to eat the peppermint without becoming a sticky mess. “What do you mean?”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” She waved her hand up and down. “You exude power and privilege, wealth most people around here can't even begin to imagine. Your slick ways and your funny accent sets you apart. It's painfully obvious you are out of your element.”

“Don't hold back, Duchess,” he said drily, “Tell me what you really think.”

His ego sure was taking a bruising lately. His father would say it built character.

“That doesn't mean they won't come to trust you eventually. Are you a patient man, Quinn Darling?”

Irrationally, his conversation with Shane Timmons came to mind. The sheriff was of the opinion that, while hard to get to know, Nicole would be worth the effort.
He wasn't sure he agreed. Nicole O'Malley was not even close to what he required in a wife.

She awaited his answer, calm and regal in her high-collared green confection of a dress, raven curls confined in a loose chignon at the base of her swanlike neck. How would she react if he were to sink his fingers in the beguiling mass?

“That all depends,” he said on a sigh.

“On what?”

“On what it is I'm waiting for.”

She didn't have a response, merely watched him with that stoic expression.

“I have a question for you.” He imagined he could see her pulling her armor in close.

“Yes?”

He took his time pouring coffee into the cups. “Why aren't you gloating?”

“Excuse me?”

“You warned me. I didn't listen, and now—” he replaced the kettle on the stove “—they see me as the bad guy. I've been waiting for you to rub it in.”

“You'll be waiting a long time.”

He held out the mug. She studiously avoided his fingers. Quinn had noticed she took pains not to accidentally touch him. Why was that?

She wasn't shy. What, then? Did he make her uncomfortable? He frowned at the notion.

“You're not the type to point out a man's errors in judgment?”

“I clearly don't need to. It hasn't even been a week and you've already seen the effects of your decisions.”

“You think I should open my store to loiterers.”

“Folks will eventually get over you moving the merchandise around. The organization makes sense.” Against the blue mug, her fingers were long and slender, piano-playing hands, his mother would say. “Prohibiting folks from gathering for harmless fun and conversation, on the other hand, strikes them as callous and unfeeling. They won't forgive you for that.”

“It was purely a business decision,” he defended.

“The wrong one.”

The ringing of the bell echoed through the store, and Nicole left his quarters to go and greet the new arrival. He refused to be disappointed at her departure, even if, for a couple of minutes in her presence, the magnitude of his problems seemed to have receded.

Chapter Six

F
or the remainder of the afternoon, Quinn didn't attempt to wait on anyone. Instead, he focused on assisting Nicole and interacting with the customers in a nonthreatening way. He mulled over their conversation. She was right—in order to gain their favor, he was going to have to think less like a businessman and more like a member of this community. He was going to have to invite the checker-playing, tobacco-spitting gossip-sharers back.

Around five o'clock, an hour before closing, Kenneth and Timothy swaggered in and headed straight for the counter. Neither man observed him in front of the notice board. Remaining where he was, Quinn switched his attention to Nicole, curious to see if her behavior altered. He didn't buy her denial that no issues existed between her and the cocky blond.

What was she hiding? And why?

In the middle of helping a young mother with a fussy toddler clinging to her hip, Nicole's smile wavered the moment she became aware of the young men's presence. Her shoulders went rigid. When her gaze sought out Quinn across the store, widening when she encountered his steady perusal, his feet carried him straight to her side. Somehow, he sensed she needed him.

“Kenneth. Timothy. What can I do for you?”

“Afternoon, Mr. Darling.” With smooth cordiality, Kenneth tapped a battered hat against his leg. “Came in for shaving soap. But Nicole knows what I like. I'll wait for her.”

Nicole didn't react, didn't acknowledge their conversation in any way.

“I wouldn't want you to wait needlessly.” Quinn moved to the case holding shaving supplies and opened the rear panel. “What brand?”

The flaring of his nostrils was the only sign of his displeasure. “Colgate.”

Quinn wrapped up his purchase and took the payment. “Thank you, gentlemen. Have a good afternoon.”

“If you have any other jobs around the store, we'd be happy to help out.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

Glancing surreptitiously at Nicole, Kenneth tucked his purchase beneath his arm and left with his friend.

Quinn approached, lightly touched her wrist. “Do you mind watching the store for a couple of minutes? I've an errand to see to.”

“Of course not.”

Out on the boardwalk, the intense midsummer heat immediately closed in. Boston hadn't been nearly this humid. Wouldn't be long before his skin was slick with perspiration and he wished he didn't have to wear so many clothes.

There was no sign of Kenneth. Striding in the direction of the jail, Quinn was relieved to find Shane behind his desk, seemingly free to talk.

The man's features lit with mild surprise and the paper he'd been perusing hit the desk. “Trouble at the mercantile?”

“No.” He gestured to the empty chair. “Do you have a moment? I'd like to ask you a few questions.”

“Have a seat. What's on your mind?”

Dropping onto the unforgiving chair, he rested his ankle on his knee. “What can you tell me about Kenneth Jones?”

He thought a moment. “Not much to tell. Like most folks in these mountains, his family farms the land. Decent, hardworking people. Regular churchgoers.” He tapped the desk surface. “Why do you ask?”

Quinn explained about the job he'd hired Kenneth to do. The tension he'd picked up on.

“You aren't aware of any romantic links or friendship between him and Nicole?”

Shane huffed a laugh. “Afraid I can't help you there. Keeping up with who courts who in this town is not in the job description.”

Pushing to his feet, Quinn stalked to the barred window overlooking the street. While he recognized some of the passersby, he didn't know their names, reputations or their histories. “I'm at a disadvantage here. It's like trying to piece together a puzzle without first seeing the whole picture.”

“All I can tell you is Nicole isn't one to frequent festivities. I can't recall her name being linked with anyone. If she attends a church social or dance, it's with her family.”

Shoving aside the intense curiosity and twisted pleasure those statements evoked, Quinn turned. “To be clear, my motives for coming here are strictly professional.”

The look Shane directed at him silently challenged that statement.

“I'm concerned because she's my assistant,” he persisted. “If she has a problem with a customer, I need to know about it.”

The tapping on Shane's desk increased. “Have you broached the matter with her?”

“I did. She wasn't forthcoming.”

“Meaning, she denied there being a problem, and you don't believe her.”

“Yes.”

Shane slouched against the chair back. “Your only option then is to keep your eyes and ears open. You can't force her to confide in you.”

If only he could. He stuck out his hand. “Appreciate the help.”

Standing to his feet, the sheriff shook his hand. “I know how it feels to be the new man in town. Takes time, but eventually folks will open up to you.”

Thanking the other man and feeling as if he'd made a trustworthy friend, he returned to the store in time to lock up and flip the sign to closed. When he spotted Nicole hunched over a small book and scribbling furiously, Quinn's gut tightened. He knew exactly what he'd see at her feet.

Acting as if nothing were amiss, he strolled past and headed into the office, suspicion burning his mouth like acid. For several days, he'd watched her surreptitiously place items in a large basket that she endeavored to keep hidden from him. It appeared his assistant was keeping more than one secret.

Was it possible she had been stealing from Emmett? The notion sickened him.

There was no other choice but to confront her.

Quinn stalked around the corner, scowling when she jolted in surprise and trepidation rippled across her features. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back. “May I ask what you are doing?”

“I—” Thick lashes sweeping down, she pointed to the book. “I—I'm entering my purchases. Emmett detracted the cost from my wages.”

“I would like to see that.” He held out his hand.

Her dark brows collided. “You don't trust me.”

“You are my employee, Nicole. I need to be able to trust you. That's why I need to see it.”

Her reluctance was plain as she handed him the book. Antagonism radiated from her stiff form. Quinn flipped through the pages, saw what appeared to be lists of ordinary supplies and entries by both Nicole and Emmett.

“New policy. When you make a purchase, I will enter it into this ledger, not you.”

Nicole snatched it from his fingers, holding it to her chest like a shield. Deep purple sparks shimmered in her eyes. “Emmett didn't feel the need to supervise me in this.”

“I am not Emmett,” he snapped, angry at her for inspiring this distrust in the first place. “If you do not feel you can meet my standards, you can cease your employment here.”

Again, he sensed fear in her.

“Fine.” Hauling the basket up to the counter, she opened the ledger and held it up to his face. “You're the boss. Go ahead. Inspect it.”

Despising the position she'd put him in, he checked that the items she'd gathered matched her entries. “You may leave,” he murmured, not looking at her. “I will see to the cleanup.”

He noticed her hands shaking when they folded over the handle. She didn't speak, just whirled away from him and marched down the hallway, slamming the door behind her.

“What exactly are you hiding, Nicole? And what has you so afraid?”

* * *

“We have a problem.”

Humiliation humming through her veins, Nicole plunked the supplies one by one on the tabletop. Candles. Soap. Tea.

“What is it?” Features pinched, Patrick leaned heavily on his cane.

“Not it. Who. Quinn Darling is the problem.” Insufferable man. “He practically accused me of stealing.”

Lillian, whose neat blue-and-brown paisley blouse and nut-brown skirt Nicole had fashioned herself, clapped a hand over her mouth. “How horrible.”

Studying the growing collection of things she'd brought, Patrick's shoulders sagged. “It's because of your frequent purchases, isn't it?” He nodded to the table. “I'm not surprised he's suspicious.”

Noting his growing displeasure, Nicole worked to calm herself. “I haven't done anything wrong. He knows that. However, I may have to stagger my visits for a while.”

“Of course,” Lillian placed a hand on Nicole's arm. “We appreciate everything you do for us. We would never want you to put your job in jeopardy. Because of Patrick's traps, we have sufficient meat. And there's all the fish and crawfish, too.”

The pair waited until dusk to do their fishing and bathing. While not ideal, it was the best way to avoid detection.

Patrick retreated to his corner chair, resting the cane across his knees. “Maybe we should move on to a different town. Somewhere farther away from Carl. We've taken advantage of Nicole's generosity long enough.”

Both females gasped. Lillian rushed to crouch in front of him. “Patrick, no! I don't want to leave Nicole. She's our family now. Besides, there'd be no one to help us. No place to stay.”

The younger girl's impassioned plea squeezed Nicole's heart. The fact that Lillian valued their friendship as much as she did filled her with an unfamiliar sense of connection, of being valued for who she was, not who her family was. Over the past six months, a bond had developed between her and these down-on-their-luck siblings. She was loath to sever it. But what did that mean for her dream? Did she dare attempt to take them with her?

She'd been supporting them here. There was no reason she couldn't support them in the city once she'd replenished her savings.

Would they want to join her? Out of respect for their feelings, Nicole hadn't shared her plans with them. Patrick, especially, would've refused her assistance if he'd known what she was sacrificing.

“I could find work.” At his sister's protest, he said, “Desk work. Something that doesn't require me to stand for long periods.”

“Who would take us to this new town? Where would we live?” Launching upward, she paced in the tight space, golden hair bouncing between her shoulder blades. “People would ask questions. What if they guessed our identity? You said yourself that Carl is tenacious. Who knows how many towns he's visited.” Seizing Nicole's hands, she exclaimed, “Talk some sense into him, please.”

Briefly hugging her friend, Nicole moved to sit on the bed closest to him. “Let's not be hasty. Quinn has absolutely no notion about any of this. He didn't question my reasons for my purchases. It was my behavior that tipped him off. If I hadn't acted like I had something to hide, he wouldn't have suspected anything amiss. I'll be smarter from here on out.”

Patrick was quiet for a long stretch. “Lillian, will you bring my satchel to me?”

When she'd done as he asked, he dug in the side pocket and, extracting a brooch, held it out to Nicole. “This belonged to our grandmother. Carl doesn't know of its existence. I'm not sure how much it's worth, but I want you to take it as partial payment for what we owe you.”

The brooch was exquisite, a blue-and-white cameo outlined in silver and with a cluster of diamonds on the top. “I can't possibly—”

When his jaw went taut and his gray eyes grew stormy, she was reminded of her cousins and the lessons they'd taught her about male pride.

She gingerly plucked the brooch from his fingers. “It's beautiful, Patrick. Thank you.”

Tucking it in her reticule, she determined to hold on to it for them.

Lillian pointed to the stew bubbling on the ancient stove. “Would you like to have supper with us?”

“I wish I could, but I have chores to tend to at home.”

“Maybe another time. Oh, I finished some of the books you lent me.” She pressed the volumes into her hand. “I liked
Wuthering Heights
but didn't care for the volume of poetry.”

“Neither did I,” Patrick groaned. “She's forced me to listen to it every morning the past week.”

A smile broke through Nicole's reserve. “Got it. No more poetry. I'll bring replacements soon, Lillian.”

Her blue eyes gleamed with interest. “I'm looking forward to it.”

Nicole was grateful her friend enjoyed reading as it helped pass the days spent indoors. During her walk home, she found herself unexpectedly turning to God in prayer.

“Father God, I don't come to You often for assistance.” Aloud, her voice sounded stilted. Casting about the forest to make sure she was alone, she lowered it to a whisper. “I'm in way over my head. I thought I could handle this one on my own, but I can't. Patrick and Lillian deserve better. They deserve a normal life, a chance at happiness. They are dear friends of mine, and it would mean a lot to me if You would fix this.”

A squirrel circled the tree directly in her path, and she froze, keen to observe the animal.

“One more thing,” she murmured. “Please help Quinn Darling mind his own business.”