From Boss to Bridegroom (Smoky Mountain Matches Book 6)

by Karen Kirst

  “I—” Thick lashes sweeping down, she pointed to the book. “I—I’m entering my purchases. Emmett detracted the cost from my wages.”

  “I would like to see that.” He held out his hand.

  Her dark brows collided. “You don’t trust me.”

  “You are my employee, Nicole. I need to be able to trust you. That’s why I need to see it.”

  Her reluctance was plain as she handed him the book. Antagonism radiated from her stiff form. Quinn flipped through the pages, saw what appeared to be lists of ordinary supplies and entries by both Nicole and Emmett.

  “New policy. When you make a purchase, I will enter it into this ledger, not you.”

  Nicole snatched it from his fingers, holding it to her chest like a shield. Deep purple sparks shimmered in her eyes. “Emmett didn’t feel the need to supervise me in this.”

  “I am not Emmett,” he snapped, angry at her for inspiring this distrust in the first place. “If you do not feel you can meet my standards, you can cease your employment here.”

  Again, he sensed fear in her.

  “Fine.” Hauling the basket up to the counter, she opened the ledger and held it up to his face. “You’re the boss. Go ahead. Inspect it.”

  Despising the position she’d put him in, he checked that the items she’d gathered matched her entries. “You may leave,” he murmured, not looking at her. “I will see to the cleanup.”

  He noticed her hands shaking when they folded over the handle. She didn’t speak, just whirled away from him and marched down the hallway, slamming the door behind her.

  “What exactly are you hiding, Nicole? And what has you so afraid?”

  * * *

  “We have a problem.”

  Humiliation humming through her veins, Nicole plunked the supplies one by one on the tabletop. Candles. Soap. Tea.

  “What is it?” Features pinched, Patrick leaned heavily on his cane.

  “Not it. Who. Quinn Darling is the problem.” Insufferable man. “He practically accused me of stealing.”

  Lillian, whose neat blue-and-brown paisley blouse and nut-brown skirt Nicole had fashioned herself, clapped a hand over her mouth. “How horrible.”

  Studying the growing collection of things she’d brought, Patrick’s shoulders sagged. “It’s because of your frequent purchases, isn’t it?” He nodded to the table. “I’m not surprised he’s suspicious.”

  Noting his growing displeasure, Nicole worked to calm herself. “I haven’t done anything wrong. He knows that. However, I may have to stagger my visits for a while.”

  “Of course,” Lillian placed a hand on Nicole’s arm. “We appreciate everything you do for us. We would never want you to put your job in jeopardy. Because of Patrick’s traps, we have sufficient meat. And there’s all the fish and crawfish, too.”

  The pair waited until dusk to do their fishing and bathing. While not ideal, it was the best way to avoid detection.

  Patrick retreated to his corner chair, resting the cane across his knees. “Maybe we should move on to a different town. Somewhere farther away from Carl. We’ve taken advantage of Nicole’s generosity long enough.”

  Both females gasped. Lillian rushed to crouch in front of him. “Patrick, no! I don’t want to leave Nicole. She’s our family now. Besides, there’d be no one to help us. No place to stay.”

  The younger girl’s impassioned plea squeezed Nicole’s heart. The fact that Lillian valued their friendship as much as she did filled her with an unfamiliar sense of connection, of being valued for who she was, not who her family was. Over the past six months, a bond had developed between her and these down-on-their-luck siblings. She was loath to sever it. But what did that mean for her dream? Did she dare attempt to take them with her?

  She’d been supporting them here. There was no reason she couldn’t support them in the city once she’d replenished her savings.

  Would they want to join her? Out of respect for their feelings, Nicole hadn’t shared her plans with them. Patrick, especially, would’ve refused her assistance if he’d known what she was sacrificing.

  “I could find work.” At his sister’s protest, he said, “Desk work. Something that doesn’t require me to stand for long periods.”

  “Who would take us to this new town? Where would we live?” Launching upward, she paced in the tight space, golden hair bouncing between her shoulder blades. “People would ask questions. What if they guessed our identity? You said yourself that Carl is tenacious. Who knows how many towns he’s visited.” Seizing Nicole’s hands, she exclaimed, “Talk some sense into him, please.”

  Briefly hugging her friend, Nicole moved to sit on the bed closest to him. “Let’s not be hasty. Quinn has absolutely no notion about any of this. He didn’t question my reasons for my purchases. It was my behavior that tipped him off. If I hadn’t acted like I had something to hide, he wouldn’t have suspected anything amiss. I’ll be smarter from here on out.”

  Patrick was quiet for a long stretch. “Lillian, will you bring my satchel to me?”

  When she’d done as he asked, he dug in the side pocket and, extracting a brooch, held it out to Nicole. “This belonged to our grandmother. Carl doesn’t know of its existence. I’m not sure how much it’s worth, but I want you to take it as partial payment for what we owe you.”

  The brooch was exquisite, a blue-and-white cameo outlined in silver and with a cluster of diamonds on the top. “I can’t possibly—”

  When his jaw went taut and his gray eyes grew stormy, she was reminded of her cousins and the lessons they’d taught her about male pride.

  She gingerly plucked the brooch from his fingers. “It’s beautiful, Patrick. Thank you.”

  Tucking it in her reticule, she determined to hold on to it for them.

  Lillian pointed to the stew bubbling on the ancient stove. “Would you like to have supper with us?”

  “I wish I could, but I have chores to tend to at home.”

  “Maybe another time. Oh, I finished some of the books you lent me.” She pressed the volumes into her hand. “I liked Wuthering Heights but didn’t care for the volume of poetry.”

  “Neither did I,” Patrick groaned. “She’s forced me to listen to it every morning the past week.”

  A smile broke through Nicole’s reserve. “Got it. No more poetry. I’ll bring replacements soon, Lillian.”

  Her blue eyes gleamed with interest. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Nicole was grateful her friend enjoyed reading as it helped pass the days spent indoors. During her walk home, she found herself unexpectedly turning to God in prayer.

  “Father God, I don’t come to You often for assistance.” Aloud, her voice sounded stilted. Casting about the forest to make sure she was alone, she lowered it to a whisper. “I’m in way over my head. I thought I could handle this one on my own, but I can’t. Patrick and Lillian deserve better. They deserve a normal life, a chance at happiness. They are dear friends of mine, and it would mean a lot to me if You would fix this.”

  A squirrel circled the tree directly in her path, and she froze, keen to observe the animal.

  “One more thing,” she murmured. “Please help Quinn Darling mind his own business.”

  Chapter Seven

  Friday evening, Nicole arrived at Megan and Lucian’s too late to hear her sister entertain the local children with a story. Weaving her way through the sea of parents and children juggling glasses of lemonade and platter-size cookies, she reached Megan’s side only to stop short.

  “What is he doing here?”

  Megan, who tended to dress like the characters in the books she was reading, resembled a shepherd girl tonight. Leaning on her curved staff, she searched the room until she’d located the source of Nicole’s ire. Quinn stood in front of the parlor fireplace conve
rsing with Cole and Rachel Prescott. “Lucian invited him.”

  “Why?”

  Wasn’t putting up with his superior presence all day at the mercantile enough? Must she be forced to watch him attempt to charm his way into folks’ good graces during her off hours, too?

  Things had been strained between them since the confrontation. She couldn’t dismiss the accusation in his eyes, the humiliation she’d endured while he’d checked the contents of her basket against the ledger input.

  “Lucian thought it might be nice for people to get to know Quinn in a casual setting.”

  “How thoughtful.”

  At the sarcasm rolling off her tongue, Megan turned to study her. “Why does his presence bother you?”

  “Haven’t you heard the phrase familiarity breeds contempt? I’m with the man way too much as it is.”

  “Hmm.” Speculation swirled in her sea-blue eyes. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this flustered over a man before. You’ve always maintained your composure, no matter how handsome the guy and with no thought to the courage it took for him to approach you.”

  She thought of Kenneth’s invitation to the harvest dance. Caught off guard by his sudden appearance in her barn, she’d refused his request without hesitation. Had she been too harsh? Would he still be angry and revengeful if she’d taken pains to let him down gently?

  Nicole schooled her countenance. If she didn’t squelch the matchmaking light in her sister’s eyes, there’d be trouble of the most embarrassing kind. “I am not flustered. Irritated would be a better word. Quinn Darling irritates me. But I didn’t come here to discuss my boss.” Holding up the slim volumes she’d borrowed for Lillian, she nodded toward the wide entrance. “I’m finished with these. Mind if I borrow more?”

  “I told you already, you may take as many as you’d like.” Megan’s cheeks flushed with peach-hued pleasure. “I can’t get over your newfound love of books. We finally have something in common.”

  Nicole grimaced as guilt washed over her.

  Megan saw it and, smile fading, clasped her hand. “Nicole, is something besides Quinn bothering you? I’ve had the sense something has been troubling you for a while. You can confide in me, you know. I won’t judge.”

  “Like you confide in me?” she retorted.

  The only reason she knew about Megan’s struggle to have a baby was because Rebecca had let it slip. Her own sister had confided in Caleb’s wife rather than her. While the knowledge hurt, it didn’t surprise her. Nicole wasn’t close to any of her sisters.

  Freeing her hand, she continued, “We don’t have that kind of relationship. Never have. I’m the piece of the O’Malley puzzle that doesn’t quite fit.”

  Megan’s sigh was audible above the chatter in the well-appointed room. “You do fit, Nicole. In your own way, you do. You just refuse to see it. And for whatever reason, you refuse to let anyone close. You’re the one who throws up obstacles in order to keep the rest of us at arm’s length.”

  Her words sliced deep. Megan was right. She had intentionally created space between herself and her sisters. And even though Nicole acknowledged the truth, recognized her role in the current state of their sisterhood, lifetime habits weren’t easily broken. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to return the books and head home.”

  “Nicole, wait—”

  Ignoring the soft protest, she hastened to reach the hallway. The sooner she left Gatlinburg, the sooner she could start fresh in Knoxville. Cultivate better relationships in her new surroundings.

  At the far end of the hall across from the stately dining room, the softly lit library was blessedly empty. Scents of leather and paper masked the room’s musty hint. Bold maroon wallpaper contrasted nicely with the dark wood furniture and gleaming floors. While she wouldn’t choose to read in here, it would be a nice place to curl up with her needles and fabrics.

  Thoughts in turmoil, she traversed the narrow space between the red-striped camelback sofa and floor-to-ceiling shelves on the wall behind it, absently skimming her fingers over the spines. Hitting upon the empty slots where her latest picks belonged, she slid them in and began hunting for stories that would please both siblings.

  She was perched near the top of the rolling ladder, scanning the upper shelves, when an accented voice from the doorway startled her.

  “I did not figure you for a reader.”

  Upper body swaying dangerously, Nicole dropped the book in order to seize the ladder with both hands. She scowled at the dapper figure striding toward her. “How did you figure that? Was it something in my eyes? The way I speak, perhaps? Do I not sound intelligent to your Northern ears?”

  Quinn scooped up the book and, stretching his left arm behind her legs, gripped the opposite ladder edge. His face was upturned, brown eyes fastened onto her face and a slight pucker in his brow. “I observe people. Call it a hobby, if you will.” He lifted the book to her. “I guess I was wrong this time.”

  The press of his muscular arm against the back of her knees rendered them practically useless. Oh, why must physical contact with him cause these strange bodily reactions?

  “Are you attempting to trap me up here?”

  Sparks of mischief kindled in his eyes. “I was preventing you from falling. Wouldn’t want you to break something and be unable to perform your assistant duties.”

  “I wouldn’t be in danger of falling if you would keep your distance.”

  One black eyebrow arching at her, he removed his hand but remained where he stood. Nicole carefully made her way to the bottom and retreated to the single window on the opposite side of the room, occupying herself with the view of the sweeping side yard bathed in the pastel orange and pink swirls of sunset. Go away, Quinn.

  He didn’t take the hint. Following her, his lean body boxed her in, not invading her space but close enough for her to sense the heat coming off him, smell his spicy—and no doubt expensive—cologne. A cushiony chair blocked her escape.

  “What do you want?” Sighing, she turned to face him, realizing too late her mistake. Inches separated them. She found herself fascinated by the ripple of hard muscle beneath the fine white cotton shirt, the strong, golden column of his throat above the charcoal coat collar, his carved chin that was at once charming and obnoxious.

  He was wearing a serious my-dog-just-died expression. “You want the truth?”

  Not really. “Um—”

  “I followed you because I wanted to apologize for the way I acted the other evening. I overreacted, and I’m sorry. You’ve given me no reason not to trust you.”

  “Oh.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice, too, that you seemed upset while talking to your sister. I came to make sure you were all right.”

  Nicole found herself tongue-tied. Quinn was worried about her? The knowledge didn’t irritate her as it should. In fact, his concern caused a sticky-sweet warmth to build up inside.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Why don’t I believe that?” He cocked his head to one side, his astute gaze laying bare her inner secrets. “I’ve had plenty of time to observe you in the company of your sisters, and there exists a barrier between you. I’ve noticed you tend to keep everyone at a distance. I wonder—”

  “Stop.” The warmth dried up, leaving her empty and wanting. Angry, too. “Stop acting as if you know everything there is to know about me, Quinn Darling. You’ve twice accused me of being a thief, and now you’re analyzing my family relationships?” She poked his chest, and he blinked in surprise. “You think you’re so high and mighty because you’re a member of the prestigious Darling family, heir to a vast fortune and lifelong resident of the great city of Boston. You think that because we talk slower and live in log cabins and wear calico and overalls that we’re dull, illiterate provincials. Let me tell you something—your Harvard diploma doesn’t give you the right to
come here and judge us when it’s clear you know nothing.”

  Pushing past him, she left the house without saying goodbye to Megan and without the books she’d promised Lillian. If she didn’t get far away, she would be tempted to strangle her boss. The foreign notion evoked a bubble of hysterical laughter.

  Admit it, a voice prodded, you’re angry because he echoed Megan’s assertions. You’re upset that he can see the truth about you. You’re worried that, like everyone else in this town, he’ll look too closely and find you lacking.

  * * *

  Quinn hadn’t been able to get their exchange—and Nicole’s obvious distress—out of his head. He’d tossed and turned all night, plagued not only by worries about how to secure the townspeople’s confidence, but about her, as well.

  Despite her air of competency, Quinn’s perceptive nature had homed in on the vulnerability she worked valiantly to mask. His standoffish assistant had stirred his protective instincts to life, and he couldn’t think of anyone who’d welcome his protection less.

  A few feet below where Quinn stood on the riverbank, Caleb locked the springhouse door and maneuvered the steep incline with ease. Whipping off his worn Stetson to run a gloved hand through his black hair, he rested against the wagon bed. “That’s the last of it. I’ll have another delivery early next week.”

  Quinn pocketed the key Caleb held out to him. “We may need more cheese. It’s popular with my customers, and Mrs. Greene has need of it for her café menu.”

  “We can provide whatever you need.” Glancing in the direction of the bridge spanning the river, Caleb straightened. “Here comes my cousin.”

  Quinn squinted in the early-morning sunshine streaming through the leaves overhead. From this distance, he couldn’t make out her expression. Her bright apricot skirts swished with each long stride, the nipped-in bodice and capped sleeves showing off her lithe figure. As she came nearer, he noticed her hair had been wrestled into a more severe hairstyle than usual, a tight, long twist nestled between her shoulder blades, not one lock out of place. What she couldn’t know was the style showcased her most impressive feature—those unusual-hued eyes that appeared to glow with lavender light.