From Boss to Bridegroom (10 page)

Chapter Ten

T
hree cups of coffee and his eyes still burned from fatigue. Quinn hadn't slept once he'd climbed wearily to his quarters. He'd lain in his lumpy bed, listening as raindrops pattered against the shingles, his mind full of the night's events.

He wouldn't soon forget how it had felt to cradle a sleeping Nicole in his arms. While he'd told her the truth—he had dozed off and on—much of the time he'd simply reveled in her warmth and softness, fascinated by the serene arrangement of her features. She'd looked younger...untouched by life's troubles.

It had taken all of his self-control and quite a bit of prayer to rein in the drive to kiss her awake. Maintaining his honor had been difficult. Nicole's storybook beauty impacted him. Didn't matter if she was asleep or wide-awake and on the verge of strangling him. But she wasn't interested in romance, or in staying, and giving in to shallow attraction would only complicate matters.

It's not all about her outward appearance, though, is it? I like her sharp mind, her dedication and commitment, her strength.

So she had admirable qualities. That didn't make pursuing her a wise choice. Besides, he couldn't shake the feeling she was hiding something.

“Quinn?” A hand passed in front of his face. “Anyone home?”

“Caleb.” Straightening from the notched-log wall beside the mercantile entrance, he grimaced. “A little lost sleep didn't used to bother me.”

Black Stetson pulled low over his eyes, the other man surveyed the handful of people hurrying up and down the boardwalk. “Josh warned me to get as much as I can before the baby's born.”

Quinn noted the trace of anxiety underlining the wry humor in his voice. “How many more months?”

“Four. Doc thinks the baby will make an appearance in October or early November.”

He started in the direction of the jail, and Quinn fell into step beside him. “You must be over the moon.”

“I am. Can't help being apprehensive, though. Any number of things could go wrong.” Dodging a low-flying wasp, Caleb shot him a sharp glance. “Don't tell Becca I said that.”

He held up his hands. “I wouldn't dream of it. She's probably anxious, too, this being her first.”

“I'm trying to leave it in the Lord's hands. Trust Him to keep them safe.”

“But it's not easy,” Quinn supplied, knowing how hard it was not to worry about the store and whether or not he might fail.

Looking out for approaching wagons, Caleb nodded before stepping into the street. “Exactly.”

He asked something he'd forgotten to last night. “How did you know to look in the springhouse? The lock was on the door.”

“My aunt mentioned there'd been a delivery.” His mouth flattened. “That and the fact I couldn't find you anywhere else. Nicki isn't one to explore the forest or hike the side of a mountain, so I suspected you were close by.”

At the door to the jail, Quinn stopped him with a lifted hand. “I want you to know I respect Nicole. I didn't do anything that would cast doubt upon her virtue.”

“Let's hope this stays out of the gossip mill. While I thank God Becca and I wound up together, I wouldn't wish a forced marriage on anyone.” Gripping the door handle, Caleb waved a greeting at a passing rider. “Especially you two. My cousin is dead set on life in the big city. She'd be miserable and make you miserable in the process.”

Entering the jail, Quinn digested the words, glad he'd come to the right conclusion. He could work with Nicole, be her friend, but nothing else.

Shane was at his desk, as usual, gold star winking where it was pinned to his vest. A large mug of coffee occupied his hands atop a stack of wanted signs.

“Morning, gentlemen.”

Quinn sat in the lone chair while Caleb dragged another from the corner.

“I heard you had an interesting night,” Shane said.

Quinn scowled. “Interesting doesn't really begin to cover it.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “You have a theory about who was behind it?”

“I do.”

Sprawling in the chair, Caleb rested his hat on his chest. “Let's hear it.”

Quinn hadn't wanted to share in front of Nicole last night. Her cousin was going to be irate when he found out she'd kept Kenneth's behavior from him, and she hadn't been up to a verbal barrage after what she'd been through.

“Did she mention Kenneth Jones invited her to a harvest social last fall?”

Caleb's eyes narrowed dangerously. “No. Why?”

“Apparently he hasn't yet gotten past the fact she spurned his request.”

“Talk, Darling.”

Quinn outlined Kenneth's behavior, including the incident with the plates. He ended with the warning he'd issued to all three young men.

Caleb got up to pace, fury hovering about his prowling form. “Nicki should've told me. I would've put a stop to it.”

“She's an independent woman,” Quinn said.

“Too independent, if you ask me,” he retorted.

The sheriff scraped his fingertips across the bristles on his jaws, expression thoughtful. “That's quite a warning, Quinn. Are you sure you're willing to follow through?”

“While I understand how such actions might impact my position here, I refuse to stand by and let them harass her.”

Caleb slammed his hat on his head and strode for the door.

Shane shot to his feet. “Where are you going?”

“To confront that idiot—where else?”

Quinn stood, as well, gaze bouncing between the two men. “To tell the truth, I wouldn't mind riding along.”

“Not a good idea,” Shane said, skirting the desk and joining Caleb at the door. “If you go over there itching for a fight, he's only going to deny having anything to do with last night. Give me time to gather evidence.”

“He's bullying Nicki,” Caleb gritted out, muscle ticking in his cheek.

“I know. I don't like it, either. But we have to keep this thing quiet. I haven't forgotten that awful visit to Rebecca's cabin and you laid up with a bullet hole in your leg.”

Caleb's dark gaze locked with Quinn's, even though he was addressing the lawman. “It wasn't you pressuring us to marry. It was the reverend and Doc.”

Bullet wound? He made a mental note to ask Caleb for details later.

“You don't want that for Quinn and Nicole,” Shane said. “And that means getting a handle on your anger. Allow me to do my job.”

A sigh gusted out of Caleb. “Do it fast.”

Snagging his hat from the coatrack, Shane reached around him to grab the door handle. “I'm going over there right now. Join me.” Over his shoulder, he said, “You too, Quinn. The more eyes, the better.”

* * *

“Mornin', Miss Nicole. You look as fresh as a summer flower.”

Passing the rear entrance to the barbershop, she mustered up what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Good morning, Martin. Looks like it's going to be a hot one.”

He eyed the blue expanse above, the tree branches that hung unmoving in the sweltering air. “I think you're right.”

Waving, she continued on her way, curls bobbing against her shoulders. She didn't feel fresh or beautiful. She'd overslept and, without the time to properly arrange her hair, she'd settled for brushing out the tangles and leaving it loose.

Her steps faltered when three figures came into view near the springhouse. Crouched on the bank, Shane combed the grass with outstretched fingers. Caleb stood a few feet away, his hat's brim shadowing his face as he scanned the water's edge. Near the top of the bank, Quinn's head came up at her approach. Murmuring something to the others, he strode quickly to meet her beneath the towering oak tree.

“Nicole.” He came near, seemingly distracted by her hair. Heat flared in his expression, turning his honey-colored eyes to liquid gold. “I like this look.”

The feeling of weightlessness she'd experienced in his arms came rushing back. “Mama didn't wake me at the usual time.”

He blinked and schooled his expression to professional courtesy. “I forgot to tell you to take the morning off. You could've stayed home and rested.”

“The last thing I want is for the culprits to think their prank impacted us.”

His brows drew together. “Are you all right? No sniffles? No chills or tight feelings in your chest?”

He was serious. “I'm not going to come down with pneumonia, Quinn. It wasn't that cold.”

After a quick glance over his shoulder, he lowered his voice. “Listen, you should know your cousin is not in the greatest of moods.”

“Well, he did spend half the night searching for us.”

“It's not that. I told him about Kenneth.”

“What? Why?” Irritation sharpened her voice. “That wasn't your decision to make.”

He set his jaw. “I disagree. When his actions affect your ability to do your job, I get involved. It wasn't just you stuck in that springhouse.” He moved his face closer. “And if word gets out, it won't be just you stuck in a sham marriage.”

Nicole sucked in a ragged breath. The prospect of becoming Quinn's wife had her tummy doing somersaults. “We are not getting married. I'll skip town first.”

“And leave me to deal with the consequences alone? Is the idea of marriage to me that distasteful to you, Duchess?”

The nickname sounded more like an endearment each time he used it. “Marriage to anyone right now is out of the question.”

Caleb's voice intruded. “I want to talk to you, Nicki.”

Uh-oh. That stony expression did not bode well.

Quinn wrapped his hand around hers, warm and heavy, earning him a startled glance. What was he doing?

“Actually, that chat will have to be postponed,” he said. “I need to go over a few things with my assistant before we open. Business-related things.”

Caleb noticed their joined hands and arched a questioning brow. “Is that so?”

Almost instantly, Quinn untangled his fingers to slide them up to the spot above her elbow. “And since I haven't had breakfast, we'll be having our discussion at the café.”

He didn't give Caleb a chance to respond. With a brief wave, Quinn guided her around the corner and onto Main, his touch insistent. She shook him off as they walked beneath the café's awning.

Waiting until another couple disappeared inside, she scowled at him. “I don't recall agreeing to have breakfast with you.”

“Would you rather I'd left you to be raked over the coals?” A baffled smile lent him a boyish air.

“I can deal with Caleb. I've been doing it my whole life.”

“Resistant to help.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is it due to standard stubbornness or pride?” He stroked his chin, mischief twinkling in the brown depths. “Or perhaps a need to prove to yourself that you're capable?”

Understanding dawned. “Here's one for your list—insufferable.”

Spinning, she yanked open the door and would've entered the café ahead of him were it not for his fingers snaking around her arm. Large body crowding her, he dipped his head down and murmured against her hair, “I have a theory about why you speak freely with me. It's our proximity in age. If I were say, ten years your senior, you would allow me the proper respect.”

Tingles of anticipation feathered across her neck, at odds with the urge to punch him. “The same way you treat me with professional courtesy?”

Pulling away, she flounced to an unoccupied table in the far corner, folding her hands tightly beneath the table to keep from snatching up the butter knife.

Quinn followed at a more leisurely pace, smiling at those he passed before easing into the chair opposite her. After they'd ordered—milk, a boiled egg and biscuit for her, coffee and a full breakfast plate for him—he leaned back and rested his hands in his lap.

“I suppose our relationship was doomed from the first moment.”

“Relationship?”

“We do have one, Duchess. It's called an employer-employee relationship. And it's gone awry. Certainly nothing like what exists in my father's offices.”

Nicole had no trouble picturing Quinn in that environment. His workers must've responded to his charisma and confidence with absolute devotion.

“You sort of inherited me with the purchase,” she conceded. “Fortunately, you will get to choose your next one.”

Sooner rather than later, she hoped. After their enforced closeness last night, her awareness of him, her sensitivity to his voice and touch, had increased tenfold. She found herself foolishly wishing for that closeness again, no matter that he was her boss. He infuriated her and intentionally provoked her without remorse.

Quinn was right—their interactions were far too personal, and, since she didn't know how to reclaim the proper distance, she was going to have to find a way to survive until she moved away.

Chapter Eleven

H
umming a favorite tune, Quinn turned down Nicole's lane feeling more like himself than he had since his arrival three weeks ago. He'd awoken shortly after dawn and, fencing gear in hand, found his way to a remote spot in the woods not far from town and practiced his parrying for several hours. Muscles burning and sweat pouring off him, he'd returned to his quarters for a bath and a shave, after which he'd attended a brief service at the church, where several town leaders spoke and those in attendance sang patriotic songs.

Independence Day was turning out to be one of those perfect summer days, the temperature warm not sizzling and the humidity low, chubby white clouds floating in a sky so blue it hurt to look at it. Bees buzzed and frogs chirruped. The furious flapping of birds' wings rustled tree limbs overhead. The moss-and-magnolia-scented air provided a sweet perfume to rival anything on his store shelves.

Along with every other business in town, the mercantile was closed, and he fully intended to enjoy this rare time of leisure. That he was attending the holiday celebration with the O'Malleys merely enhanced his mood. Alice and the twins put him at ease, welcoming him as if he were part of the family. He was also looking forward to getting to know Nicole's cousins and their wives better.

Neither the failure to discover evidence linking Kenneth to the springhouse ordeal nor the fact he wasn't making much headway with the locals could pierce his good humor.

Passing the enormous barn and a vegetable garden with tidy, orderly rows, he touched a finger to the golden asters flanking the steps before bounding onto the porch of their two-story cabin and rapping lightly on the door.

Jane—or was it Jessica?—greeted him. “Mr. Darling, won't you come in?”

The faint blush and shy smile clued him in. “Thank you, Jane.” He entered, his smile widening at her obvious surprise. He made note of her petal-pink blouse for later.

“Nicole will be down in a moment.” She indicated the steep, almost ladder-style steps disappearing into the ceiling. “Would you like to join us in the kitchen? Mama is packing our basket.”

He followed her through the crowded, narrow dining space and into the homey kitchen. Alice and Jessica—clad in watered-down green—looked up from the counter with sunny smiles. “Quinn—” Alice appeared pleased to see him “—I'm glad you could join us. Nicole overslept this morning, and I'm afraid she's running a bit late.”

Concern flared in his chest. He'd been on edge the first day or so after their ordeal, watching for signs of encroaching illness. He couldn't get the shock of her icy skin out of his head, her piteous shudders.
That's not the only thing I can't forget.

Even now, he recalled with ease how perfectly Nicole had fit in his arms, the wondrous awe of cradling her while she slept, vulnerable and all her usual guards discarded. The silkiness of her hair...
Enough, Darling.

He cleared his throat. “I hope she isn't coming down with anything.”

Alice smiled at his consideration. “I think this is more a case of getting to bed later than usual. My middle daughter tends to become engrossed in her sewing projects and lose track of time.”

Quinn would dearly like to see her in such a state. Would she be as impeccably neat as usual, not a hair out of place, or would she be rumpled, raven locks haphazardly tumbling about her shoulders as she lost sense of time and place?

Encouraging himself to keep his thoughts on the right track, his gaze fell on a familiar blue box of chocolate-cream drops perched on the pie safe ledge.

“Nicole favors those, doesn't she? I didn't think she had much of a sweet tooth, but I've noticed she can't get enough of the cream drops.”

Jessica and Jane exchanged a doubtful look. Alice's brow screwed up as she placed a bread loaf in the basket. “Nicole doesn't often indulge in sweets.”

Jessica went to examine the box, pulling it down from the shelf. “I didn't notice this was even here.”

Confused, Quinn said, “Could she have brought them home for you?”

Even as he said it, the feeling in his gut said something wasn't right. Nicole had purchased no less than four boxes in the past two weeks. They weren't expensive, but they weren't cheap, either. She wouldn't have gotten them for the sole purpose of forgetting them on a shelf.

Jane shrugged. “If she did, she didn't say anything.”

Alice patted Jessica's shoulder. “Would you be a dear and carry this out to the wagon?”

Jessica hefted the basket, turning down Quinn's offer to help. Untying the faded apron about her ample waist, Alice hung it on a hook beside the back door. “Would you mind if the girls and I went on ahead? I'd like to pick out a prime spot before the crowds descend. There are only so many shade trees to go around.”

“We'll catch up to you.”

She patted his shoulder in a motherly gesture that had loneliness arching through him. He was surprised by how much he missed his mother's hovering, as he'd called it, the questions that should never be put to a fully grown, adult male.
Did you eat all of your breakfast? Are you getting enough sleep? Are you honestly planning on wearing that particular coat with that shirt?

Soon
, he comforted himself. Soon he would make a decision about the land parcels he'd surveyed last week and get started on a permanent home.

After Alice and the girls left, Quinn wandered around the living area, a space overflowing with couches and furniture. They could do with a little more elbow room, he thought, touching a finger to the painting propped on the mantel.

“That was a gift from Rebecca,” Nicole informed him as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “It's my favorite flower.”

Turning his back to the cold fireplace, he skimmed her neat-as-a-pin image and was hit with the strange desire to muss her restrained curls. “You look impeccable, as always.”

Taking in her lilac ensemble, he never would've guessed she'd been in a rush to get ready. She was as cool and composed as ever. In that moment, he made it his mission to upset that composure at some point today. Nicole O'Malley needed to learn to take life a bit less seriously.

“Thank you.” Double-checking the pearl buttons on her bodice, she craned her neck to see past the dining room. Silver earbobs winked at her earlobes. “Are they waiting outside for us?”

“Actually, your mother asked if we'd mind meeting them there. I believe she was anxious to claim a spot.”

“Oh.”

“Are you regretting volunteering to accompany me?”

“No,” she replied too quickly, jerking up her chin. “Are you regretting accepting? Our arrival won't go unnoticed, I assure you. Hazard of small-town life.”

Striding forward, he took hold of her elbow and turned her toward the door. “I'm no stranger to gossip, Duchess.” Opening the door, he ushered her onto the porch. “Gossip is quite common in my social circles. Today I will be the envy of every man in attendance, young and old, because I have the loveliest lady in Gatlinburg on my arm.”

Nicole disengaged her arm and glared at him. “Were you born this way or is it an acquired affliction?”

“To what are you referring, my dear?” Quinn bit back a smile as her color heightened.

“The charm oozing from your pores.” She flicked a hand up and down the length of him. “Do they teach that course at Harvard? How to spout ridiculous flattery at will?”

He lost the smile. “Why is it so difficult for you to accept a compliment?”

This aloof, don't-come-near-me attitude masked low self-esteem. Amazing that an accomplished young woman like Nicole could doubt herself.

His serious tone must've unnerved her, for she stormed down the steps ahead of him. “The church is a good twenty-minute walk from here. We should get going.”

Sensing her need for space, Quinn purposefully didn't offer his arm as they walked along the serene, country lane leading to town. The silence between them was companionable, despite her irritation with him. He liked that they could be in the empty mercantile together and not feel the compunction to fill the silence with unnecessary conversation.

By the time they'd reached Main Street and he popped into the store for the lunch basket he'd ordered from Plum's, she no longer looked as if she wanted to strangle him.

She did appear nervous, however.

Locking the front door and pocketing the key, he fell into step beside her. The church property was teeming with people. Food tables had been set up along the side of the clapboard building, the wide, grassy area dotted with blankets and clusters of people setting out picnic baskets. Fiddle music drifted down the street.

Another sigh reached him as they passed the post office, and Quinn cast her a sidelong glance. “You are wishing you hadn't asked me, aren't you? It's all right if you'd rather go and join your family. I'm sure the reverend and his wife would allow me to join them.”

Nicole's steps faltered. “It's not that.” Thick, black lashes lowered to brush her cheeks. “I, uh, I've never had an escort before.”

“To the Independence Day celebration?”

“To
anything
.”

Quinn was hard put not to let his surprise show. The familiar drive to protect her arrowed through him even as an unwise sense of satisfaction took hold.

Passing beneath the branches of the outermost tree in the churchyard, he trained his gaze on the kaleidoscope of smartly dressed people. “Then I am indeed a fortunate man. I will warn you that I am not accustomed to sitting on the sidelines while others have all the fun. As you are my date, I expect you to join me.”

Nicole followed his gaze to the lively two-legged race being set up beneath the trees edging the property.

Panic rippled across her features. “Quinn, no.”

“Oh, yes.” He caught her hand as she made to escape, weaving his fingers through hers and starting in that direction.

She dug in her heels. “I don't participate in silly games.”

“I didn't peg you for someone who allowed others' opinions to dictate her actions.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Do you honestly care what these people think about you?”

Nicole chewed on her lip, troubled violet gaze sweeping the crowds.

“Come on,” he cajoled, tugging on her hand, “you never know. You just might enjoy yourself.”

To his surprise and pleasure, she gave in. At the starting line, Quinn got the rope from the man in charge and, binding his ankle to hers, tried not to think about their first meeting and his ungentlemanly actions. The other contestants' competitive smiles held unspoken questions. They were clearly intrigued by his and Nicole's participation, although whether due to her involvement or the nature of their relationship he hadn't a clue.

Quinn counted himself fortunate no one had learned of their time in the springhouse. While he liked Nicole and was certainly aware of her as a woman, he wasn't keen on marrying her. She was prickly and complicated. He preferred sweet and biddable. She was set on becoming a successful businesswoman. His heart's desire was a traditional family.

Of course, searching for a suitable wife among Gatlinburg's residents would have to wait until his house was built and his position in the community more settled. Occasionally spending time with Nicole—as friendly business associates—was perfectly acceptable.

As they hobbled to the starting line, he curled an arm about her petite waist and pressed his mouth to her ear. “Relax, Duchess. Put your arm around me.”

She grimaced but did as he suggested. “You think I don't know you're trying to annoy me with the nickname?”

He barked out a laugh. “You make it too easy.”

“And what is this exactly?” She waved a hand between them. “Trying to make me miserable?”

“On the contrary. I'm trying to get you to enjoy yourself.”

“This isn't my idea of enjoyment.”

The pistol shot rang out. Nicole's gasp was whipped away the moment he jolted them forward. Their progress was awkward, stilted, and they nearly landed in a tangled heap half-a-dozen times. Onlookers' cheers spurred them on. Quinn didn't mind that they didn't win. Not when her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled like precious jewels.

Untying the rope, he pointed at her. “Is that a smile attempting to break through?”

“Not quite.” She gave him an arch look.

“Guess that means my work isn't finished.”

Taking her hand again, he pulled her through the crowd to the rear of the church, where ladies were competing in a skillet toss.

“I'm not doing that.”

“What if I offered you a dollar's worth of fabric?”

Her arms, folded across her chest, fell away, and she stared at him with parted lips. “You're serious?”

“I am.”

“Make it store credit, and you have a deal.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

With a bracing breath, she tugged off her reticule and tossed it at his chest. He fumbled to catch it before it fell to the ground. “Minx.”

Watching her march up to the organizer, Quinn couldn't swipe the goofy grin from his face. It remained for the next hour as he persuaded her to take part in musical chairs—which he won—a cakewalk and a sawing contest. They both worked up a sweat on that last one, and by the end he'd accomplished his goal—Nicole laughing freely, inky curls escaping their pins to caress her nape and excitement animating her features.

“I need a drink,” she panted, sagging against the solid oak trunk.

Quinn propped an arm on the nearest limb and leaned in, gingerly wrapping one of her curls about his finger. “I will procure you a drink just as soon as you admit you had fun.”

A light breeze rustled the green leaves overhead and skimmed their heated skin. Although people milled about the grounds, laughter and children's shrieks and music filling their ears, here beneath this outlying oak it felt as if they were the only ones in attendance. Nicole had gone still. Watchful. Puzzling emotions swirled in her luminous eyes as he explored the texture of her hair.