A Place with Briar. Amber Williams Leigh

      The dull headache that had followed the run-in with one of Olivia’s tavern chairs was down to a subtle throb, easily masked by a small dose of painkillers.

      With two cups of coffee in her system already, plus the last-minute reservations filling the days of the guest calendar in front of her, Briar’s disposition went from cheerful to downright sunny for the first time in weeks.

      Lunch. It would be lunchtime soon and Cole would likely be roaring back on that Harley of his. Touching a hand to the center of her chest, her smile faded a bit. Since the night he had gallantly carried her up to bed, even casual thoughts of him were accompanied by the flutter of her heart.

      Scrubbing the heel of her hand against her sternum, she closed the guest book and walked to the kitchen. There was no room in her life for feelings like this. Especially since Cole was a temporary fixture in her life. Less than a fixture actually, because for the past couple days she’d seen very little of him.

      “Roxie,” she said, turning around as the door to the kitchen swung open. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

      Roxie lifted a shoulder. “I had some spare time and thought I’d drop by. I hope you don’t mind.”

      “Not at all. Have a seat—help yourself to some coffee.” Briar went to the sink to busy her hands. She pushed her sleeves up and began to rinse the tomatoes that waited in a basket on the counter. “Roxie, I should apologize for the way I acted the other night in the tavern. There’s no excuse for being rude to you and your fiancé.”

      “You weren’t rude at all,” Roxie assured her as she joined Briar at the sink. Her eyes widened as she reached over to pick up one of the tomatoes. “These are bigger than my mother’s. You should sell them.”

      “I would if I didn’t use them all for cooking,” Briar explained. “They get bigger each year. Soon I won’t be able to get them through the door.”

      “That’s when you enter them in the county fair and win prizes,” Roxie advised. Her warm grin faded after a moment and she put a hand on Briar’s arm. “Olivia told me that you’re uncomfortable with me knowing about the inn’s troubles.”

      “It’s nothing.”

      “No, I think it is something.” Roxie read her well. “And it’s worrying you a great deal. I wasn’t painting pictures when I said I want to help. I can pay more on the lease if you need me to.”

      “No,” Briar said, shutting off the water and drying her hands. “I already charge you girls enough. It’s just...this was my mother’s place. She’s gone and Hanna’s has to continue running, no matter what.” She gestured to the table. “If you’re not in a hurry, I have some leftover biscuits from breakfast if you want some.”

      “Sure,” Roxie said. “Olivia and Adrian rave about your cooking.”

      “A year and a half of cooking school,” she explained. “Anyway, I want to hear more about the boutique. How’s it coming along?”

      “Wonderfully—quicker than I anticipated. I’m just thrilled with how things are progressing.”

      “Have you mentioned the package deal to the others?” Briar asked.

      “Oh, yes. Adrian jumped on it and had a proposal and spreadsheets lined up for me the next morning. Olivia seemed happy about the veranda being put to good use. We just need to iron out the details and we can start marketing it as soon as I open Belle Brides for business.”

      Through the screen door, the sound of an uninhibited engine poured loudly through the quiet of the inn. Roxie’s eyes widened in glee. “Ooo, I was hoping I’d get to meet your tavern hero.”

      Briar frowned. “He’s been gone most of the morning. Most of yesterday, as well. I guess he’s come back for lunch.” Her heart did that inconvenient jump when the kitchen door opened and Cole walked in, his brow wet and the front of his plain white T-shirt damp from perspiration. As he glanced around the kitchen, his dark eyes caught the light and flickered. Briar’s stomach muscles softened, trembled.

      “Sorry, ladies. Am I interrupting something?”

      “Not at all,” Briar said quickly. Composure, she urged as she opened the refrigerator. “I made some fresh lemonade if you’re thirsty.”

      He watched her take down a glass. “Parched, actually.” After a moment, he glanced at Roxie. “Cole Savitt.”

      “Pleased to meet you, Cole,” she acknowledged. “Roxie Honeycutt.”

      Cole stuck out a hand for her to shake then pulled it back when he saw the grease on his fingers. “Sorry. I’ve been working on my bike for the better part of the morning.”

      “Nothing like a little early morning mechanics,” Roxie commented. “I’m opening a bridal shop above Adrian’s florist.”

      “Oh, right,” Cole said. “She mentioned you.” Briar handed him the cool glass. “Thanks, this looks great,” he said appreciatively and sipped. “Tastes great, too.”

      “Want some lunch?” she asked.

      “Actually, I was going to grab a shower before I stink up your kitchen.”

      “Do you need fresh towels?” she asked as he turned to go upstairs.

      “Just the one will do.”

      “I’ll wash the others,” she offered. “Give me a minute to get you a clean stack.”

      He nodded, lifting the glass. “Thanks again for the drink. It was nice to meet you, Roxie.”

      “Likewise.” As she watched him walk out, Roxie tilted her head to admire the view. “Mmm. Honey, with men like that roaming the earth, global warming is here to stay.”

      CHAPTER SIX

      UPSTAIRS, COLE stripped off his grimy T-shirt and answered the soft knock on the door with, “Come in.”

      Briar pushed the door open but stopped short when her eyes skimmed over his bare chest. She averted her gaze as she walked in, arms laden with fresh white towels. “I brought three, just in case.”

      “Thanks.”

      She set the stack on the edge of the bed then backed away, her eyes still shifting elsewhere. “I’ll let you shower.”

      “Wait,” he said quickly, taking a step in her direction. He heard the swift catch of her breath as he closed in. Her eyes caught his and locked. A hand pressed to her stomach and he wondered what was going on under there.

      He’d hardly seen her these past couple days. Avoidance. He was avoiding her like the plague. As soon as he’d seen her walk downstairs for breakfast the morning after her near-concussion, he’d run like the paperboy chased by a pack of neighborhood dogs.

      As for his plans for breaking into her filing system? He hadn’t yet found a safe moment. She was always there, the subtle but no less devastating scent she carried on her skin leaving him no room for clear thought or instinct.

      On impulse, he moved closer. Briar’s lips parted and he bit the inside of his, hoping they would stop tingling in anticipation. Focusing on her eyes, he swallowed to quench his throat. His palms had gone damp, and he rubbed them against his jeans. Nerves held the silence.

      What was his move here?

      He hadn’t been able to get into her files so he had to come up with some other way of getting the information he needed, or something close to it at least. Tiffany was hounding him and his dreams were haunted by visions of both Gavin and Briar, each on the verge of being engulfed by the blackness that lurked in his shadow. The closer he got to either of them, the more they disappeared into darkness. He woke in cold sweats throughout the night with the weight of the black pressing on his chest.