Amber Williams - A Place with Briar

Olivia had long, blond hair that hung halfway down her back in flyaway curls and her sharp green eyes didn’t miss a trick. She stood nearly a head shorter than Briar but made up for it with her boisterous personality, an uproarious, booming laugh and an unchecked streak of righteousness.

Despite their differences, they’d grown as close as sisters over the years. Guilt riddled Briar over the tinge of envy. Olivia could bait the opposite sex with a mere sidelong glance and, by extension, make Briar feel completely inadequate in the men department.

The swinging kitchen door opened behind her and her fingers stiffened around her scrub brush when she got a strong whiff of soap and shampoo. Not quite steady enough to look, she continued to buffer the oven pan.

“Good morning, ladies.”

“Hi,” Olivia greeted, rising from her chair with a flirty smile.

“Are you staying here, too?” Cole asked.

“Hell, no,” Olivia said with a loud cackle. “I couldn’t afford a room here if I sold my tavern.”

“Tavern?”

“Briar didn’t tell you about me? She’s certainly forgotten her manners. Olivia Lewis. I own Tavern of the Graces right next door.”

“Cole Savitt. You don’t look like a bartender.”

“Let me tell you something, mister,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I make a margarita Jimmy Buffet would weep over.”

He laughed. Briar’s insides trembled over the deep sound. She certainly hadn’t made him laugh, had she? “I might have to find out for myself,” he replied.

“Then come on by later, if you’re not busy. Not much to do around this place.”

Briar’s back stiffened as Cole hesitated. “I might,” he repeated. “Are you joining us for breakfast, Olivia?”

“I wouldn’t miss the cinnamon rolls for anything,” Olivia drawled. “Tell me about yourself, Mr. Savitt. What brings you to Hanna’s?”

He settled on one of the seats at the table. “It’s personal.”

“Hmm. Well, you can’t leave us dangling like that. Can he, Briar?”

Briar lifted a shoulder, drying a coffee mug and setting it in the open cupboard over the counter. “It’s his business.”

Olivia let out an exasperated huff. “Enough with the Sandra Lee. Would you sit down?”

Briar sighed, drying her hands. She turned to the oven. “I’m waiting for the quiche.”

“Quiche, too?” Cole asked, brow quirked in interest. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“You better believe it,” Olivia advised.

Briar took a pot holder off a hook on the wall and opened the door. “Close enough.” She pulled the quiche out and set it on the waiting trivet on the table, moving the bowl of fruit to the counter and replacing it with a server of fruit salad. “What would you like to drink, Cole?”

“Coffee’s fine,” he said, lifting his mug.

“Liv?”

“OJ for me. So did you bring a wife along, Cole?”

“No,” he replied with an edge to his voice. “I don’t have a wife.”

Olivia pursed her lips, curious. “I’ve never been married, either.”

As Briar brought Olivia’s juice to the table and settled into a chair, her eyes met his. “What about you?” he asked.

She paused. “Erm...me?”

“Process of elimination, cuz,” Olivia quipped, watching her with a sly grin.

“No. I’ve never been married,” she stammered before dropping her face to hide another flush and piled fruit salad onto her plate.

“Briar hasn’t been on a date in years,” Olivia blurted. “Needless to say, we all think she seriously needs to get laid.”

“Olivia! Honestly, that’s enough,” Briar squealed as Cole choked on a cinnamon roll.

“What?” Olivia asked. “We’re all family. No need to hide the truth. Especially when he might be able to help you out with that. Would you mind loosening her up for us, Cole?”

Briar groaned, pressing a hand over her eyes to ward off Olivia’s scheming expression.

“I’d love to.”

Briar’s hand and jaw dropped simultaneously. Her eyes widened, her heart leaping with surprise and...something else. Delight? She saw his playful grin then Olivia’s. “Oh!” she shrieked, embarrassment trawling through her.

“I’m sorry, Briar,” Cole said sincerely. “Couldn’t resist.”

“You’ll fit right in around here,” Olivia decided, slapping him companionably on the back.

“I hope so.” He smiled as he scooped a forkful of quiche into his mouth. His eyes flared, softened. “Whoa. Holy smokes.”

Olivia’s conspiratorial twinkle was back, suggestive as ever. “Look, Briar, he even likes your cooking.”

“That’s an understatement,” he amended, swallowing another bite. He gazed at her. “This is incredible.”

Briar’s lips curved warmly now. “Thank you.”

“She’s the best cook in L.A.” At his dubious look, Olivia laughed. “That’s Lower Alabama, newcomer.” Olivia’s digital watch beeped and she cursed. Dropping her fork to her plate with a sharp clang, she pushed her chair back to rise. “Duty calls.”

“You’re going to work already?” Briar asked. “You didn’t finish your breakfast.”

“I’ll survive, Mama.” She took her plate to the sink to rinse. “The bar doesn’t open until noon. I’m helping that new girl move her stuff into the shop upstairs.”

Briar gasped. “I forgot all about that!”

“Don’t get up. Two pairs of hands will get the job done fine,” Olivia assured her as she dried hers. “And Adrian’s going to sneak up when she can.”

“I’ll head over later to see if you need anything,” Briar said. She’d fit it in between fixing a leaky sink and weeding flower beds. “Call me if y’all need me before then.”

“You just do what you do best first.” Olivia leaned over and kissed the top of Briar’s head. “Be good.” She sent Cole a sidelong grin as she headed out the screen door. “Don’t give her any trouble now, ya hear?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he assured her. “I’ll come by later for that margarita.”

“You do that. First one’s on me. See you two lovebirds later.”

When the door rapped shut, Briar turned to him with a grimace. “I’m sorry about that.”

“She’s a feisty one.”

“Always has been,” Briar said with a weary sigh. “Trust me. There’s never a dull moment around here.”

“You grew up here?”

“Yes. My mother established the inn after she married my father. A short time later, Olivia’s parents bought the bar from a couple of retirees and rebuilt from the ground up. They lived in the apartment upstairs. When they retired, they handed it all over to Olivia. Ever since I took over, it seems I’m either over at the tavern yelling at her to turn the music down or she’s over here making a fool of me in front of my guests.”

“You’re right. Never a dull moment. Can I have another one of these?”

Her face lit with a quick smile. “Finish them off, by all means.” She passed the basket of cinnamon rolls across the table and felt the glow spread from her heart to her cheeks when he took two. “I’m glad you like them.”

“Mmm. This is all wonderful, Briar. I don’t remember the last time I had a fine meal like this.”

In an instant, his eyes clouded over again. She wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand, squeeze it reassuringly. Anything to erase that haunted look from his face.

Before she could react or resist, the phone rang. She lifted her napkin to dab the corners of her mouth. “Excuse me.”

He raised a hand to show that her departure didn’t bother him.

She sprinted into the entryway. Hopefully, it was another customer calling to reserve a suite. Or an investor. Please, let it be one or the other. “Hanna’s Inn,” she greeted, pulse pumping in her ears.