Married One Night. Amber Williams Leigh

smiled. The unpredictability of the weather was one thing most people around these parts tolerated. Olivia, a creature of unpredictability herself, thrived in it.

      She bounded up the steps to the inn’s glass-front entry doors. The bells jangled as she opened them and the smell of cinnamon and home struck her.

      Olivia followed the voices coming from the back of the house. She made her way down the hall, past the fancy dining room full of antiques and the living room with its plush, half-moon sofa and flat-screen television. Here brilliant streams of sunlight beamed unfiltered from the connected sunroom, which overlooked Briar’s gardens. Cole’s trim, green yard tumbled down to the rocky, sandy shore and the small dock with its Adirondack chairs and chaise longues.

      The bay was still choppy but had settled back for the most part. The storm had stirred it into a murky brown. Light beamed off the surface of the crests, however, and it wasn’t hard to see the gleaming spires and bottlenecked cranes of the city of Mobile beyond it.

      Olivia peered through the swinging door into Briar’s kitchen. Standing at the counter, a steaming mug of coffee clenched in one hand and an infant tucked against his opposing shoulder, Cole Savitt was the first to catch her eye. He grinned a lazy morning grin and tipped his mug toward her in greeting.

      She pressed a finger to her lips, slipping quietly into the room. Adrian and Kyle sat at the round nook table and Olivia could hear Briar’s voice floating from the open pantry doors. She walked to Cole and placed her hand gently on the baby’s back. “How’s our Harmony this morning?”

      “I think she’s out,” the man said, dipping his head close to his daughter’s. “She kept us awake most of the night.”

      Olivia got on her tiptoes to get a better view of Harmony’s face. Her eyes were closed and her cheek was adorably mushed against the broad shoulder of Cole’s black T-shirt. Olivia grazed her fingertip over the bridge of the two-month-old’s button nose and sighed. “I was hoping for a smile this morning.” Lowering herself back to the heels of her feet, Olivia asked, “Colicky again?”

      “Yep,” Cole said, carefully readjusting the weight of the baby so that she settled against his chest and not his arm. “It’s winding down, though. She hasn’t had a rough night like this in a couple weeks.” His smile turned sly as his dark eyes settled on Olivia’s face again. “I just hope she didn’t disturb our latest guest.”

      Olivia groaned. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

      “Oh, come on, Liv,” Cole said, setting his coffee down so he could run a tan, calloused hand over Harmony’s back. “I recall a time, about a year and a half ago now, when you teased Briar and me mercilessly just for glancing at each other at the breakfast table. Now you’ve gone and found yourself not just a boyfriend but a bona fide bridegroom and I can’t make a comment?” He smirked and shook his head. “I don’t think so, cuz.”

      She had a hard time holding the frown on her lips when he looked so mischievous. Olivia had been raised with Briar. They were more sisters than cousins, which made Cole the closest thing to a brother Olivia would ever have. It did her well to see light and laughter in his eyes now, when a year and a half ago there had been none of that. “Just do me a favor and tell me where I can find the man of the hour?”

      Cole nodded toward the pantry. “Bartering a couple of jars of Briar’s homemade jam off her. She’s practically fawning over him.” He grabbed his coffee again, raised it to his lips with lowered brows. “If I weren’t so secure in our relationship, I might feel more than a small stab of jealousy.”

      “You have nothing to worry about,” she pointed out. “Me, on the other hand? That’s a whole different ball game. I’m gonna try to rope him out of here.”

      “Good luck with that,” Cole muttered into his coffee.

      Olivia mussed a hand over Kyle’s rusty brown crop of hair, leaning down to press a loud kiss to the boy’s freckled cheek. “How are ya, slugger?”

      Kyle beamed up at her, displaying a new gap between his teeth. “Great. Gerald gave me a euro.” He raised the small European coin from the table. “Look, Liv! Isn’t it neat?”

      “Yeah, how ’bout that?” Olivia said, narrowing her eyes on Adrian across the table.

      Adrian shrugged, though the corners of her mouth twitched. “You were right. He is a charmer.”

      “Oh, you, too, huh?” Olivia muttered through gritted teeth as she eyed the hardback book next to Adrian’s plate.

      Her friend lifted her shoulders again and lowered telling eyes to the coffee in her hands. “Yeah. You’re on your own.”

      “Brutus.” Olivia sneered. Cursing, she stalked to the pantry. It was small, but the floor-to-ceiling shelves were all stocked neat as a pin with every label facing outward. The man in question was reaching up to grab a jar of rhubarb jam off the top shelf for Briar, who beamed wide at him as he handed it to her. “Aren’t you sweet?” Briar asked, a pink flush staining her cheeks. “Thank you, Gerald.”

      “It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Savitt,” he said. “Your husband’s a lucky man. He has a pretty wife and envious access to all your jams, jellies and homemade treats.”

      Briar tittered over him. Actually tittered. Olivia scowled. That was the last straw. “Gerald,” she barked.

      Briar jumped, startled at the intrusion. Gerald steadied her with a hand on her shoulder as he turned to Olivia with a beaming smile, one arm laden with mason jars full of jam. “Well, if it isn’t my gorgeous wife.” His eyes dipped over her from head to toe. “You’re looking fine today, Mrs. Leighton.”

      Olivia narrowed her eyes on him in a blistering stare. “We need to talk.”

      He looked from her furious, gleaming eyes to Briar’s flushed face. “Your cousin’s just been telling me how you used to steal jam from her mother’s cupboard, which is why it’s still kept on the top shelf to this day. She also says you used to steal liquor from your parents’ bar. That’s why they put a lock on the storeroom door.”

      Olivia’s frown deepened as she looked at Briar. Her cousin had the gall to look innocent. “I’ll be talking to you later,” Olivia warned Briar. “You, on the other hand...” She grabbed Gerald’s hand and tugged on it hard to get his feet moving. “Outside. Now.”

      “Thank you, Briar,” he managed to say as Olivia hauled him away. “I’m looking forward to sampling each of these. Perhaps you’ll make me some more of those delicious scones to go with them?”

      “Of course, Gerald,” Briar answered. “Whatever you like.”

      Muttering, Olivia got behind Gerald and pushed him out the screen door before he could respond to her cousin. Grabbing the sleeve of his oxford shirt, she pulled him in the direction of the jasmine arbor where the garden surrounded them, blocking the view from the inn’s many windows. Rounding on him, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing?” she asked, indignant.

      Gerald blinked and lifted a mason jar for her inspection. “Just talking jams. Your cousin’s a gem. The way she talks about you...it’s more like a mother. It’s illuminating.” His grin turned wry. “Do you need a mummy, Olivia?”

      Olivia groaned. “I’m not talking about...that. This whole marriage business was to stay between us.”

      He narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I thought they were your family.”

      “They are my family—”

      “And as your family, who loves you dearly, they’d have a right to know who I am and why I’m staying here. That is, unless you weren’t planning on being honest with them? It was my impression that your relationship with them means a great deal more to you than that.”

      Olivia’s mouth fumbled. She raked her hands through her hair in frustration. “You’re just trying