Читать книгу A Place with Briar - Amber Leigh Williams - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

ALL THE BLOOD drained from her face down to her toes. She wanted to shrink to the floor. Without a chair, she leaned against the wall as her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. “Is there a problem, Mr. Fields?” Her voice trembled. She prayed for control and watched her free hand quiver as it reached for a pen on the podium.

“I’m afraid there is. Is this a convenient time to talk or should we schedule a meeting sometime this week?”

She swallowed. “Now’s fine.”

“You are the proprietor of Hanna’s Inn on South Mobile Street in Fairhope, Alabama?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“And you own the adjacent property, as well?”

“I do.”

“I’m sorry to say this, Ms. Browning, but you’re late on your property tax payment. Are you aware of this?”

Of course she was aware of it. The tax plagued her every thought—along with the inn’s other debts. She took a shaky breath. “Mr. Fields, business was very slow this past autumn and winter season. I had to pay an unexpected remodeling charge for one of the shops next door. Plus, there was another hotel established in the downtown area and it took a chunk out of my profits.”

“I sympathize, Ms. Browning, but I’m afraid that failure to pay taxes is a serious offense.”

She took a minute to gather herself. She had to stand up against this. Had to be strong. “I realize that, Mr. Fields, but surely, there can be an extension on the deadline....”

“We’ve already offered the extension. Twice. You did receive the notices we sent?”

She’d received them. And she’d scrimped and saved. But then there was the matter of her car breaking down for the final time. Without a vehicle, she couldn’t haul groceries or landscaping materials. The down payment on the used Honda had burned a devastating hole in what was left of her savings. “I received them, yes.”

“And you failed to comply.”

“It’s not a matter of failed compliance, Mr. Fields. It’s just a matter of simple finance. I have every intention of paying the tax and I will when I have the resources. At the moment, though, I do not have the payment.”

“Ms. Browning, you do know what the penalty for failure to pay your taxes is, don’t you?”

Her head started to spin. The wallpaper whirled sickeningly. “I—”

“The county can seize any assets you hold in your name to account for the debt. In this case, we would be forced to take the property.”

Now she did shrink to the floor. Curling up, she dropped her brow to her raised knees. She struggled to breathe through the panic that assailed her.

“Ms. Browning?”

She couldn’t lose the inn. She just couldn’t. In an instant, she was transported back to last winter, watching her mother wither away before her eyes. Staring out at the bay as if the sight of sun dappling on its blue-gray waters would bring healing where nothing else could.

Tears burned her eyes. “Mr. Fields...” She took a deep breath, doing her best to steady her voice. “My mother, Hanna Browning, a pillar of this community, lost her life last year.”

“Yes, I knew of her illness.” The voice softened. “I’m very sorry, Ms. Browning. I’m also aware of the fact that she was under your care.”

“As you can imagine, the expense of her treatments and everything it took to make her comfortable during her last few months...” Again she had to take a breath. The quaver in her voice had worked its way into her joints and threatened to tear her to pieces. “It was devastating to both my family and the finances we had accumulated over the years.”

“I understand that, ma’am, but—”

“Mr. Fields, please, I need you to understand that I will pay the tax. I always pay my debts. I...I just need more time.”

A long pause followed the waning words. Her heart hammered somewhere between her stomach and spinal cord. The hole it left in her chest throbbed miserably.

“We can give you until mid-July.”

She released the breath she’d held on to as a last resort. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Fields. Thank you so much.”

“Just make sure you get the payment in. Preferably ahead of time.”

“I will. You can be sure of it.” Anything to prevent losing Hanna’s. “Goodbye, Mr. Fields.”

“Have a good day, Ms. Browning.”

She stood to hang the phone back in the cradle. For a long moment, she leaned her head against the wall and concentrated on steadying herself. Her knees quaked, and she ordered them to stop. She wiped her eyes before turning to walk back into the kitchen.

A gasp launched from her throat when she found Cole standing in the hallway just beyond. She clapped a hand over her heart. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Mr. Savitt. I didn’t see you there.”

He said nothing, just scanned her face with a frown.

Oh, dear God, her troubles were no doubt written all over her. How much had he heard?

He stepped forward, into the light. The haunted look had vanished from his face, replaced with concern. “Are you all right?”

She swallowed, her insides squirming in embarrassment and cheeks heating all over again. “Is there...anything I can get you?”

He closed the distance between them in three quick strides. Startled, she pressed her back against the podium. Her breath caught as he hovered close, gaze intense now as he searched her eyes, seeing too much. “Are you all right?” he asked again.

She sucked in a long, steadying breath. “I’m fine.” When he didn’t look convinced, she sighed. “Mr. Savitt, you’re my guest. It’s my job to see to it that you’re all right. Not the other way around.”

“And who sees to it that you are?” he blurted.

Her lips parted. No guest had ever asked her such a question. Certainly not one she had ever met before.

Lips firming, he lowered his penetrating stare. “I...apologize, Ms. Browning.”

With a short shake of her head, she fought for words. “It’s forgotten.”

Hesitant, his gaze latched on to her face once more, spanning her features. “You look exhausted, is all.”

Lifting a hand to her hair, she realized she must look a fright. “I—”

“If you need a break, I’ll be happy to—”

“No,” she refused, finding strength buried beneath the shame. “No, that’s out of the question. I thank you, Mr. Savitt, but the last thing I need right now is a break.”

Silence loomed over them both. Then he slid his hands slowly into his pockets in a gesture of acquiescence. “All right.”

Her eyes avoided his as disbelief again crossed his face. “Really, if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable...”

His face hardened and for an instant, she thought she saw the muscles in his jaw quake formidably. Finally, he pulled in a long inhale and said, “I told you. Just call me Cole.” Turning away, he walked out, the bells jangling over the door in his wake.

She watched him through the windows until he disappeared from view. Then she shook her head.

The man was unbelievable.

And he’d smelled so good up close—like soap, her cinnamon rolls and that very base note she suspected belonged to him alone.

Setting the pen she still held tightly in her hand on the podium, she dragged her fingers through her hair and made her way back to the kitchen.

She stopped short just inside the door.

The table had been cleared. Three clean plates and forks dried in the sink-side drainer.

Did he...?

Something inside her awakened, unfurling, tingling to life. Something that’d been dead for too long to measure.

If she wasn’t careful, she could start feeling things for this man she barely knew. Things she couldn’t afford to feel for anyone again—least of all a complete and total stranger.

* * *

COLE NEEDED TIME alone to think. Room enough to pace, to burn off the edge from the confrontation with Briar.

He’d seen women in pain. He’d been a member of the Huntsville police department for ten years. That was more than enough regular calls of domestic violence and trauma vics. Yes, he’d seen too many wounded women to count.

But Briar... She was different. Kind to a fault and yet undeniably capable with what he strongly sensed was an unexpected streak of perseverance. She downright intrigued him.

After the past three hellish years... Well, she was like a breath of fresh air. A fine, cool kiss of morning mist.

A ride around town wouldn’t cool the burn in his blood. Wrestling with it, he walked away from the inn. Away from her. He couldn’t keep encountering her on the verge of tears. Finding her that way, close to shattering, had made him forget completely why he was here. Tiffany’s wicked errand and all that came with it.

Damn it, for a moment, Gavin’s face had been completely wiped away by Briar’s frightened features, and he’d wanted nothing more than to enfold her in his arms and...

Nope, don’t go there. Don’t you dare go there, Savitt. Dangerous. Under the circumstances, it was just too damned dangerous. For the both of them.

How he could even think about being with another woman again after all the grief Tiffany had put him through was beyond him.

As he roamed around the side of the building, the tidiness of the well-loved garden left him little doubt Briar landscaped it herself. The scent of the confederate jasmine clinging to lattices tickled his nostrils. Bright salmon petunia faces popped out of the soil in cheery abundance. At his approach, a hummingbird flitted away from a butterfly bush. Off the gravel path, a vegetable garden flourished. Squash and tomatoes looked seasoned, a bright slash of color against the lush green landscape.

More of her work there. He saw it, too, in the clumps of daffodils trumpeting up from the mulch between sweet olive bushes. Climbing roses laced their way around porch columns. He smelled the gardenia before he spotted it. The soothing fragrance of the open, palm-sized blooms cleared the way for cool thoughts.

Briar didn’t need a man with a past as black as his underlying intentions cozying up to her.

“You son of a bitch!”

Frowning toward the voice that had read his thoughts exactly, he pivoted on his heel to face the long, glass-walled greenhouse between the inn and its neighboring twin structure. Something crashed against the floor and he took several steps toward the paned doors that had been thrown wide-open. More expletives reached his ears as he peered around the jamb.

First he spotted the glass splintered on the damp concrete slab and the long-stemmed crimson roses scattered like blood spatter.

Great. He was likening flowers to something he’d seen at a crime scene. The world-weary detective he’d wanted to bury deeply, forever, was taking over again, little by little.

“Hello?” he called.

Instantly, a brilliant streak of red hair peered over a worktable. “Shop’s next door, mister!”

“I heard a commotion,” he called back, taking a step farther over the entrance. “Are you okay?”

She emitted a snort before disappearing from view. Something scraped across the floor, followed by the tinkling protest of glass. Dustpan. “What are you, my knight in shining armor?”

He grimaced. “More like a concerned neighbor. Temporarily, at least.”

The auburn crop appeared again. On second look, her face was round and pixielike with a button of a nose and unpainted lips, which softened the impact of her pronounced bone structure. The eyes that stared back at him were dark and sharp as a whip.

This was no damsel. From the eyes alone, he could tell nothing got past this lady.

The woman stood slowly, revealing a red apron with the name FLORA embroidered across the front. “I apologize for the outburst. The vase was delivered broken and tried to pick a fight with me.”

He tilted his head, eyeing what had once been the vase in question. “Seems you won.”

She beamed and propped a gloved fist on her hip. “As a matter of fact, I did.” Those sharp eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

He scanned her face more closely. After some hesitation, he stepped forward, cautious of the scattered shards. “I’m Cole. Cole Savitt,” he said, extending a hand toward her.

Her eyes narrowed as she pried a glove from her hand to grip his firmly. “I don’t think I know any Savitts. Are you related to anyone around here?”

He paused. Then decided there wasn’t much harm in mentioning Tiffany. “My ex-wife. Tiffany Howard.”

“It rings a bell.” She nodded, pursing her lips. “I’m Adrian. Adrian Carlton.”

“Adrian,” he greeted. “Nice to meet you.”

“You married?”

He chuckled, unable to help it. “You ladies cut right to the quick around here.”

“So you’ve met Liv, I take it.”

“Yeah.” He smiled. He sensed from experience that she was a wary soul, but an inherently good one. His instincts had served him well in the past...unless he counted Tiffany and the viper that had lived unbeknownst to him under her polished veneer. “And I take it you’re the Adrian who owns the flower shop next door.”

“That’s me. Flora, finest flowers in Fairhope. You must be Briar’s new guest.”

“You heard about me, huh?”

“We don’t get many single men around Hanna’s,” Adrian told him, easing into a smile. “And with somebody like Liv on the loose, nothing stays secret for long. Though since the fact that you have an ex-wife didn’t come up in this morning’s gossip exchange, I’m guessing I’m the first to know that you’re divorced.”

He lifted a shoulder, slipping his hands into his pockets in a relaxed stance. “It’s not something people like to advertise.”

“Don’t I know it.” At his curious look, she nodded. “We’re of the same breed as far as failed marriages are concerned.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

She shook her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. Especially when your ex is a wife beater hiding behind a badge.”

“Please tell me justice was served,” he said.

“After long last. Suspension for him and restraining order for me and my son,” she said matter-of-factly before tending to some long-stemmed roses. “So what brings you to Fairhope?”

“Much-needed vacation,” he lied.

“Workaholic?”

“Actually, I’m kind of between jobs.”

“What do you do?”

He hesitated then realized there was no reason to lie, at least about his job. “I was a Huntsville police detective.”

Her brows lifted again. “Seriously?”

“I put ten years on the force.”

“You know, now that I think about it, you look like a cop,” she said with a smug smile.

“Since the wife-beating ex is a cop, too, I’m guessing that isn’t a compliment.”

She smiled. “I’ll trust you and he have little in common other than your chosen careers.”

“And I’ll thank you for that, Ms. Carlton,” he replied.

“Adrian,” she corrected. “Ms. Carlton is my mother, which is why I tend to shudder whenever anyone calls me by that particular name.”

He chuckled again. Yes, he was growing to like Adrian.

“You thinking of transferring south?” she asked. “I’m acquainted with a few of the officers at the local PD. I could introduce you....”

“No, for now I’m just...” He stopped because he saw understanding begin to creep into her eyes. “This seems like a nice enough place to live, I’ll admit. Everyone’s friendly. The weather’s good—not too hot.”

She snorted out a laugh. “Wait until mid-July before you start making weather assumptions. I should give you the grand city tour, introduce you to the right people. You might like it enough to stick.”

No. It’d be a while before he could stick anywhere. The thought of two weeks in Fairhope already seemed like an eternity. At Hanna’s, anyway—close to Briar and other things too far out of his reach. However, if he couldn’t be around Briar without thinking straight then her friends might be able to tell him more than he could wean out of her. “What are you doing tonight?”

She considered. “I could ask Briar to babysit.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t want to put Briar out.” God knew she had enough on her plate already.

“Oh, Kyle loves Briar,” she explained. “He helps her out around the place, gives her a much-needed hand, even if it is with the little things.”

He hesitated, weighing the situation. “Well, okay, then. I’ll meet you at the tavern around seven?”

“Seven it is.” She started to walk off. “I have a customer waiting on these roses. It was nice meeting you, Cole.”