Karen Kirst - From Boss to Bridegroom

Had he been born a charmer? Or had his skills been honed by his high-society life? Either way, he annoyed her.

She skewered a potato with more force than necessary, and it disintegrated into mush. Quinn’s vigilant liquid eyes focused on her. One brow lifted in silent question. Nicole mimicked his expression. The slow, impertinent smile that followed made her insides jittery. Not familiar with this particular reaction, she frowned at him, which only served to widen his smile.

Lowering her gaze, she concentrated on sipping the fragrant tea without spilling it.

“Won’t you miss living in Boston?” Across from Nicole, Jessica eyed their guest with open admiration.

Laying down his fork, he fiddled with the teacup’s handle. “I will miss my family. And my favorite Czech bakery. They sell the most delicious kolaches , pastries filled with cheese or fruit.” His expression turned wistful. “I’m at peace with my decision, however. I look forward to experiencing life in a rural, close-knit community.”

Nicole hid a smirk with her napkin. He’d soon learn small-town life wasn’t all lemon drops and roses.

Jessica looked at Nicole. “Our sister has talked about leaving Gatlinburg behind and starting fresh in the big city for years.”

Nicole restrained herself from kicking her under the table. It wasn’t that her dream was private—everyone in town was aware of her plans. But Quinn was her boss. Now that he knew she intended to leave town, he could possibly decide to find an early replacement. A tremor of unease wound its way through her. She desperately needed the income.

Quinn was looking at her with a strange mix of surprise and disappointment. “Is this true, Nicole?”

Before she could formulate an answer, Jane leaned forward in her chair, auburn hair brilliant in the afternoon light streaming through the windows. “Tell him your plans.”

“I told you I was a seamstress.”

“Yes...I recall the conversation.”

“My goal is to open a boutique of my own in Knoxville.”

“When?” He sat motionless, good humor draining away.

“She was supposed to go in March,” Jessica piped up. “She refuses to tell us why she had to postpone.”

“I—”

Their mother aimed a reprimanding glance at her youngest daughter. “That is Nicole’s business, young lady. Don’t pester her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nicole attempted to gather her wits. No one could discover the true reason for the delay. “I—I will have the necessary funds eventually.”

Still unsmiling, Quinn sighed. “Emmett did not mention your plans. Your expertise will be missed.”

“I promise to give you ample notice of my departure.”

As if sensing her turmoil, he said, “I want you for as many days as I can have you.”

Nicole’s lips parted. Jessica giggled.

Red slashed his cheekbones as it sank in how his words had sounded, and he looked uncharacteristically uncertain. “I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Dropping her napkin on the table, she stood abruptly and gathered her plate and silverware. “If we’re going to have time to look over the ledgers today I suggest we go. I have alterations to do later.”

“But you haven’t eaten dessert,” Jane protested.

Their mother rose, as well, smiling broadly at their guest. “I’ll send some with you. I’m sure you will want to take a break at some point.”

Nicole stumbled, nearly dumping her dish. Sure, she’d seen that speculative gleam in her mother’s eyes before, but in regards to her sisters. Not her . Surely she didn’t think she and Quinn would make a good match!

Setting her dishes in the dry sink, she pitched her voice low. “Please tell me you aren’t entertaining romantic notions about me and my boss.”

Alice patted Nicole’s arm. “Would that be so bad? He seems like a fine young man.”

Remembering his arrogance as he’d loftily informed her of impending changes, she swallowed a retort. Fine young man? Huh. “I’m not interested in him or anyone else. I have plans, remember?”

“Have you consulted God about those plans?” It wasn’t a harsh question. Concern and understanding were reflected in her lined face.

“I know you’d rather I stay here and, like Megan, settle down and maybe start a family. That’s not me. And, since God made me, He knows I wouldn’t be happy living a conventional life”

Nicole wasn’t about to admit that lately she’d been experiencing rogue thoughts...like what it might be like to have a man adore her the way Lucian did Megan. Or what it would feel like to hold her very own baby in her arms. Josh and Kate’s little girl, Victoria, had worked her way into her heart with zero effort. Simply holding her, absorbing her innocence and sweetness, had altered her view of parenthood.

“Well, it can’t hurt to have a friend, can it?” Her mother sliced up two generous portions of pear pie.

Nicole didn’t want Quinn Darling for a friend. The debonair Northerner wasn’t exactly comfortable to be around. On top of that, he was the last person she’d feel inclined to share confidences with.

When the dessert was carefully placed in a small basket, Nicole endured a motherly hug. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be home. Don’t expect me before supper, okay?”

Hopefully she could hurry along this session with Quinn. There was an errand she couldn’t put off.

* * *

Nicole pressed against the lichen-coated tree trunk, listening, waiting, heartbeat loud in her ears as she stared at the run-down shack tucked between three trees of varying size. In the lush canopy far above her head, birds were constantly in motion, the flap of their wings competing with rustling leaves and swaying limbs. A tickle on her pinkie caught her attention. Brushing off a tiny black ant, she checked the dense woods behind her. No one. Good.

Gripping the basket she’d snuck out of the mercantile following her blessedly brief tutoring session with Quinn, she picked her way over exposed roots and the damp, mossy forest floor. The midsummer sun rarely breached the leafy banner, and last autumn’s fallen leaves had yet to fully decompose. The air was dense, fragrant and slightly moist. Trickling stream water pulsed beneath all other forest sounds.

At the shack door, she rapped her knuckles against the brittle wood in a distinct pattern. A few seconds passed before the door scraped open and a young man with pleasant features, albeit strained and pale, stared back at her. His dishwater-blond hair hung limp across his forehead.

“Nicole.”

Shuffling a step back with the aid of his cane, he admitted her.

“How are you, Patrick?”

“Nothing has changed since the last time you asked. That was what? Two days ago?” His attempt at a smile failed, pain clouding his gray eyes.

She wished for the hundredth time he’d gotten proper care for his injured leg, wished he’d agreed to let her summon the doctor. It hadn’t healed properly, hence the ongoing pain.

Patrick’s younger sister, Lillian, greeted her with her customary hug. Nicole returned the embrace without a trace of awkwardness. She’d grown accustomed to the sweet-natured girl’s affection.

Lillian released her. “You look especially pretty today. How was the church service?”

“I’ll tell you all about it in a moment.” She lifted the basket. “First, I brought you some things.”

“You always do.” Patrick had lowered himself onto the ladder-back chair in the dim corner. Her ongoing charity bothered him a great deal. He was aware, as they all were, that he and his sister couldn’t survive without it.

“She knows we’ll pay her back someday.” Lillian carried it to the tiny, lopsided table shoved against the wall beside the door and eagerly lifted the checkered material. Her wavy flaxen hair, caught in a neat ponytail and tied with a strip of leather, hung to her waist and shone in the lamplight. Several hours remained before dusk fell, but the single window let in precious little natural light.