Amber Leigh Williams - A Place with Briar

“Yes,” Adrian said and not much more. Solidarity, he knew. Her dark eyes slit, scrutinizing. “Why are you so curious about Briar?”

Shifting, he glanced out over the bay. “She just... It really seems like she... I don’t know. Needs someone.”

Her lips pursed. “You’re interested in her.”

Alarm filtered through him swiftly. “I’m not the kind of man she needs.” It was the truth—as much for himself as to assure her.

Adrian lifted her chin in a short nod. “Not everyone’s brave enough to share the load she has. Or care for her the way she deserves to be cared for.”

Words formed on his tongue, but he stopped them before they could spill out. “You’re right about that.”

Her hand lifted to his arm. “Cole, I like you. And it’s because I like you that I’m going to be completely honest with you. Briar’s one of my oldest friends, and I don’t want to see her hurt again. If you’re just passing through, it’s best just to leave things be.”

He frowned over her shoulder at the bay again. “Adrian, I never had any intention—”

“I know,” she said with a small smile. “But I saw the way you were looking at her today.”

Avoiding her gaze again, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You’re looking out for her. I get it. But trust me. The last thing I want is to cause Briar any trouble.” Veering around her to the tavern door, he reached for the handle. “And you’re right. That’s all I’d ever be to her.”

“Cole—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, pushing the door open. “I’ll see you around, Adrian.” Before she could reply, he shouldered his way in, losing himself in the crowd.

He could use another stiff drink.

The place was twice as crowded as before. Over the heads of the people on the barstools, he caught a glimpse of the two women working there.

Cole edged toward the wall to avoid getting shouldered by any of the people milling about. For a moment, he simply observed.

Briar maneuvered her way through the crowd with two large pints of draft beer in each hand. She took them to a table, set them down and pocketed the patrons’ money. The gracious smile she aimed at them sucked Cole in. Made his pulse dance irregularly in that dark place it’d dwelled during the past few years.

Cole watched as a large man with a ruddy face coated with a prickly red goatee cornered Briar, laying beefy hands on her shoulders. She jerked in surprise, spinning around only to find herself locked between his solid, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound bulk and the wall behind her. His booming voice resonated across the tavern. “Careful there, little lady. Don’t want you to trip and hurt that sweet face.”

“Then you shouldn’t stand in my blind spot, Clint.” She tried to outmaneuver him by ducking under his arm. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have orders to fill.”

“Why the rush?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and steering her toward a table near the back of the room where lights were dimmer and Olivia didn’t have quite so well a view of what transpired between her patrons. Cole saw Briar’s eyes flash around the room, looking for an escape. He took several steps forward.

Clint’s meaty paws squeezed her shoulders and he leered close as his buddies at the table looked on and sniggered. “Give me some sugar. You know you want to.”

She turned her nose up, digging an elbow into the man’s ribs in another effort to dislodge his attentions. “You’re embarrassing yourself, Clint. Now knock it off so I can get back to work.”

He chuckled louder, reaching around to her backside and grabbing a handful.

Cole lunged forward, pushing through the other bystanders, a haze of rage cloaking his vision as he heard Briar shriek in alarm. Before he could reach them and dispense justice in his own way, she hauled back a flat-palmed hand and struck Clint across the face.

Clint staggered back, not from the force of the blow, but in surprise, gripping his chin and eyeing Briar in a new light. “Well, who knew there was something fiery underneath Minnie Mouse’s blouse? I like that.”

Before Clint could reach out and touch her again, Cole clapped his hands over the giant’s shoulders and jerked him forcibly around to face him.

“Hey, man,” Clint protested. Blinking sluggishly, his eyes found Cole’s face. Judging by the slow perception and the heavy stench of beer emanating from him, it didn’t take a scholar to determine that Clint was well wasted. “What’s it to you?” he asked, thumping Cole in the chest with the heel of his hand.

“Leave the lady alone,” Cole demanded, his voice low. Someone shut off the music and all eyes tuned in to the action. “Or you’ll be answering to me.”

“Cole...” Briar began but Clint’s mocking “ooooo” broke through her speech.

“What’re you gonna do?” Clint asked. “Hit me?”

“If you touch her again, yeah,” Cole pledged, his hard gaze never flickering from Clint’s face. “I will.” His hands were already balled, ready, at his sides.

The man let out an obnoxious laugh, grabbing Briar by the wrist and trying to haul her against him again. “Is this bothering you, pretty boy?”

Briar clawed at the brawny cuff on her arm in a failed attempt to dislodge it. Her fingers were turning white—the nimrod was cutting off her circulation. “Let go of me, Clint! You’re hurting me!”

Panic crossed Briar’s face. Cole had seen that same expression on too many victims’ faces to count. Not Briar. He flexed his fists until the knuckles cracked.

Olivia finally managed to work her way to the center of the crowd. He turned to her in question. “Permission to make a scene?”

“You had to ask?” she said, eyes bright with indignation. “If you don’t, I will.”

“Come on, mousey.” Clint laughed, now using both hands to plaster Briar against him. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”

“Enough,” Cole said, lunging forward. He put a firm hold on Clint’s arm, twisting until the man was forced to let go. He blustered, swinging wildly with one arm. Briar ducked, but despite Cole’s attempts to shield her, Clint’s arm plowed into her, knocking her back into the vacated table and chairs.

Cole saw her go down hard. It was the last straw. Whirling, he raised a balled fist and nailed Clint in the jaw.

The man reeled back against the wall. Spitting blood, he knuckled his mouth. “Son of a bitch clocked me.” He eyed Cole with the light of challenge strong in his eyes. “You wanna brawl?” He stood up, squaring his shoulders and planting his feet as he raised his fists. “Let’s go.”

Cole snapped his ready fist up again and sent Clint reeling once more, this time into the crowd of regulars to his left. They parted and let him fall like a tree with a deafening clatter to the floor.

Cole leaned over him, grabbing hold of the collar of the man’s shirt. Again, he spoke low in a menacing tone. “If I catch you even looking at her again, much less bothering her, I’ll knock your eyes out. Got me?”

Clint coughed. Blood spittled as he spoke. “She’s not worth the trouble.”

Cole hauled him into a sitting position and jerked his head in Briar’s direction. She sat in a chair with a hand on the back of her head, her expression pained as she eyed the pair of them warily.

Cole twisted Clint’s arm behind his back until he shrieked in pain. “Apologize.”

“No flippin’ way.”

Cole twisted the arm harder, making Clint yelp.

“Okay, okay! You’re gonna snap my damn arm off!”

“So apologize and save me the effort,” Cole warned.

“Fine! Sorry, Ms. Browning. I didn’t mean any harm.”

Cole held on to the arm a moment longer then reluctantly let it go. He looked to Olivia. “What do you do with the trash?”