Amber Williams - A Place with Briar

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.”