From Boss to Bridegroom (Smoky Mountain Matches Book 6)

by Karen Kirst

  He licked his lips. “Dry mouth.”

  “We’ll get you water.”

  An overhead beam creaked and bits of dirt rained down. Shane, who’d been observing them with open interest, eyed the ceiling with concern.

  Quinn speared her with an imperious look that no doubt had had his employees back in Boston scrambling. “You should go.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “I’m your boss.”

  She gestured to the ruined quarters. “Not anymore,” she said gently.

  He closed his eyes. “How bad is it, Shane?”

  “The building’s a total loss. Should be able to salvage some of the merchandise, though.”

  “What wasn’t damaged in the initial accident was probably ruined by the rain,” he said, and sighed, eyes still closed.

  Claude paused to swipe his sleeve across his forehead. His cheeks were red from exertion. “I’m about to sever the limb. Be ready.”

  On his knees facing her, Shane nodded and braced his body. Nicole scrambled to assist. Her hands would pay for this later.

  Within moments, they had it rolled off him. Quinn started to push himself up.

  “Whoa, there,” Shane hurried over. “Maybe you should wait until Doc takes a look at you.”

  “I’m fine,” he panted, easing into a sitting position. “Just light-headed.”

  His skin was pulled tight across his cheekbones, his lips colorless. Her heart pinched in the face of his pain. At least he’s awake and coherent. His injuries could’ve been worse. Much worse.

  Offering up a prayer of heartfelt gratitude, she was about to go to him when Caleb appeared in the doorway. He shot Nicole a searching look and, apparently satisfied she was unharmed, sidestepped to allow Doc Owens room to pass.

  The cursory examination didn’t take long.

  “You’re a fortunate man, Mr. Darling. I detect no broken bones.” To the other men, he said, “Help him to my office so I can stitch up those gashes.”

  Caleb and Shane assisted Quinn to his feet. Claude waited by the door.

  “Come with us,” Caleb told her. “Doc will need to tend your hands.”

  All heads swiveled to her.

  Quinn’s features sharpened and his brow creased. “What’s wrong with your hands?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Let me see.” Despite his weakened state, the command brooked no argument.

  Acutely aware of their intent audience, she held them out, wincing at his quiet gasp.

  “How?”

  Nicole wasn’t about to explain that, in her desperation to reach him, she’d paid no heed to the obstacles, had clawed at the branches and broken boards blocking her way. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “I beg to disagree.” He started forward, only to weave slightly and put a hand to his head.

  “While I admit I’m fascinated by this conversation,” Caleb drawled, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, “I think we’d best concentrate on getting out of here.”

  Quinn’s jaw went taut. “I’ll let it drop. For now.”

  Progress to Doc’s house was slow. The crowd cheered and clapped at the sight of him walking out of the wreckage. Disregarding his physical injuries, folks surged forward to offer a word of encouragement or to tell him not to worry about the store. Nicole lost count how many offers of assistance he received.

  He patiently responded to each person, sincere in his appreciation. Was she the only one who noticed his increasing pallor? The deep grooves carved on either side of his mouth?

  Just when she was about to stomp her feet in frustration, Shane shooed everyone away.

  At Doc’s, Nicole waited alone in the parlor while Quinn’s injuries were tended. He’d sent the lawman and her cousin on their way. And she’d insisted she didn’t need her mother and sisters hovering while she waited.

  When the unflappable doctor motioned for her to enter the treatment room, she paused on the threshold. She hadn’t expected to find Quinn still awake. His hair had been washed, and he wore a clean shirt that was several sizes too big. No doubt one of Doc’s.

  “I thought you’d be asleep,” she said, going to sit in the chair Doc indicated.

  “I don’t particularly like taking medicine.” He followed the older man’s movements as he methodically gathered gauze, a jar of white paste and tweezers.

  “Put your hands on the table,” Doc ordered, lowering his bulk into the chair opposite.

  Nicole did as instructed, averting her eyes to a waterfall painting in order to avoid Quinn’s scrutiny. She did her best not to flinch. By the time he was finished, she was tempted to toss those hateful tweezers in the river.

  Standing with her back to Quinn, she flexed her stinging, gauze-encased hands and wondered how she was supposed to complete her sewing projects on time. Or pack.

  When Doc left them to rejoin the cleanup efforts, she trudged to the bed Quinn occupied. Her uncomfortable clothes were finally getting to her. She longed for a hot, steaming bath and her favorite nightgown.

  “How’s your shoulder?” Nicole said.

  “Bruised.”

  “And your head?”

  “Doc sewed up the gash.”

  Taking hold of her wrist, he tugged her close until her legs nudged the mattress. Against the crisp white linens and mountain of pillows propping him up, his raven hair gleamed and his brown eyes were shadowed. “I’d like an explanation now, please.”

  In her mind’s eye, she pictured him as he’d looked seconds before that tree collapsed. The exhaustion and jumbled emotions she’d been holding at bay rushed in, buckling her knees. It was either take refuge on the bed or land on the floor. She sat down on the edge, the mattress dipping beneath her weight.

  Residual fear muddied her throat. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I...needed to find you.”

  His fingers traced lazy circles on the skin above the gauze. “You were worried about me, Duchess?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was worried about you, too.” His expression darkened. “I don’t like that you hurt yourself on account of me.”

  Her gaze freely roamed his face, his dear and familiar countenance, and she wondered how on earth she was going to function without encountering it on a daily basis. Those eyes full of life and humor, the languid, too-confident smile that did crazy things to her equilibrium.

  I can’t love him, can I? I don’t even know what that feels like.

  “My reaction would’ve been the same no matter who was trapped in the store.”

  That’s not entirely true, though, is it?

  His fingers stopped their motion. He folded his hands atop the blanket, and she hid hers behind her back, missing the reassurance of his touch.

  “Speaking of the store—” she pushed herself up, relieved when her legs held her weight “—I’m so sorry.”

  His temporary home, along with his business, had been utterly destroyed.

  “I can rebuild. Restock the supplies. What matters is that no one was killed.”

  “I know you’re right. Still...” His dream was in ruins. Her heart ached for his loss. “Tell me something. Have you ever regretted embarking on this crazy adventure of yours?”

  “Not once.”

  She gaped at him. “Not even when we were locked in the springhouse?”

  “I don’t deny there have been obstacles along the way. This is the biggest one of all. But I’m confident this is where God wants me.”

  Was she confident Knoxville was where God wanted her? Had she even prayed for His direction?

  I can’t alter my plans now. What reason could I possibly have for giving up my dream?

  “I’ll miss you, Quinn Darling,” she blurted.

  He blinked, dark brows lifting.
<
br />   Something sorrowful flitted across his face. Surely she’d imagined it.

  “Would you like for me to come and visit you? Knoxville isn’t that far away, after all.”

  Quinn visit her? “You would visit an ex-employee?”

  “No. But I would visit a friend.”

  “I would like that very much.”

  Had he noticed the hitch in her voice? She hoped not. Averting her face, she attempted to gain control of her unruly emotions.

  He hadn’t said he’d miss her.

  He hadn’t asked her to stay.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Quinn felt numb inside.

  Her admission had rocked him. He’d had to bite his tongue to keep from begging her to stay.

  He sternly reminded himself not to be selfish. If his family had tried to talk him out of leaving Boston, he would’ve been torn, confused and, more likely than not, resentful. He would’ve left home with mixed feelings and regrets. Thankfully, they hadn’t burdened him with that. While they’d expressed their sadness at his leaving, they’d ultimately freed him to pursue his dream.

  Asking Nicole to give up her dream wouldn’t be fair. And what, exactly, would he be asking? Not only had she made her views on marriage plain, he didn’t know how deep her feelings for him went.

  She deserved his support and encouragement, and he would give them no matter how much it cost him.

  Settling into the pillows, he soaked in her bedraggled appearance, his gaze lingering on her wrapped hands. She must’ve been terribly upset, and he hated that he’d inadvertently caused her distress. Remaining in this bed while Doc had dug bits of wood out of her tender skin had gone against every instinct. He’d wanted to hold her, comfort her, absorb her pain.

  Watching her now, his heart twisted with acute regret. It wasn’t difficult to imagine spending the remainder of his days with her, loving her and any children God blessed them with. He disagreed with her summation of her maternal instincts. All a person had to do was watch her interact with her cousins’ children to know that she’d be a kind and nurturing mother.

  You are not a part of her plan, Darling. And neither is a future in Gatlinburg.

  Funny, he’d initially deemed her unsuitable for the role of his wife. He’d had this preconceived notion of a sweet, biddable woman. Someone like his mother, who catered to his father’s wishes. Only now did he understand how skewed his thinking had been. He wasn’t his father. He wouldn’t be content with a relationship like theirs.

  Nicole kept him on his toes. He certainly couldn’t fathom ever being bored with her. She brought sunlight and joy to his days. Her reaction to his teasing charmed him, and he found himself searching for new and innovative ways to do it. From the beginning, her work ethic had impressed him, and the depth of her generosity was something he hadn’t encountered before.

  All solid reasons for wanting to marry her, but not the chief one. Plain and simple, he yearned to be the man who poured love into her life, who made her feel special and wanted and needed.

  It was a new and unexpected dream, one he hadn’t anticipated, one destined to go unfulfilled. Something told him the loss of it would stick with him the rest of his life.

  She stopped in her pacing. “I think I should postpone my trip to Knoxville.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You’re going to need help rebuilding.” At the sight of his expression, she said, “I don’t mind waiting a little longer.”

  Although he hadn’t thought it possible, his love for her grew in that moment, making it difficult to speak. “You are not postponing your move. I refuse to be the cause of another delay. It’s time you thought about yourself for a change.”

  * * *

  The look in Quinn’s eyes nearly caused her heart to stop.

  No one had ever looked at her with that degree of earnestness before. Having warmth and approval directed her way was a heady thing. Disconcerting, too. Because, as the knowledge of what might’ve befallen him hit home, she’d accepted how precious he’d become. The idea of him hurting hurt her.

  It was a novel experience. For years she’d lived a selfish existence. Afraid of rejection, of not measuring up, she’d closed everyone out and focused on her own wants and desires. For whatever reason, Patrick and Lillian had breached that self-absorbed bubble, and she’d let herself care without reservation. But that was a friendship type of love. Things were different with Quinn.

  He’d waltzed into her life, breezing past her barriers and thawing her heart with barely any effort. He’d teased her, pushed her to try new things, comforted her. For the first time ever, she desired someone else’s good above her own. She would sacrifice everything if it meant he’d be safe and happy.

  Why was she surprised he wouldn’t let her?

  Quinn Darling was an honorable man. Noble and good.

  “That’s the thing. I’ve spent most of my life thinking about myself. It feels good putting others’ needs first.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure I can leave with your store in ruins.”

  “Pray tell me, how could you possibly assist me?” He gestured to her injuries. “I appreciate the sentiment, but there’s nothing you can do.”

  He hadn’t said it with the intent to wound her. She knew that. “I understand.” Sliding errant curls behind her ears, she edged to the door. “I’ll let you get some rest.”

  He lifted a hand. “Nicole, wait—”

  “No. I’m hungry and dirty and too tired to think straight. We’ll talk later.”

  Hurrying outside, she took the long way home, skirting Main Street and the lingering crowds. She shouldn’t have worried about Quinn. A determined man, he wouldn’t let this setback derail his goals. He would rebuild, and the mercantile would be better than before.

  He’d be fine.

  He didn’t need her anymore.

  * * *

  The following evening, bathed and clad in borrowed clothes, Quinn paid Nicole a visit. After her hasty departure, he’d remained in that bed at Doc’s, too drained to deal with either well-meaning townspeople or the damages wrought by the storm. He’d half expected her to come back this morning. She hadn’t. And when he’d gone to the site, he’d been disappointed over her absence and oddly disgruntled at having been forced to examine his store’s demise alone when he’d have given his right arm to have her beside him. What would she say if he admitted that he’d come to value her practical outlook, her unwavering confidence in his abilities?

  Rebuilding would take some doing—many hours of hard labor clearing the rubble, assessing what to scrap and what to keep, not to mention compiling inventory and reordering supplies. He thanked God he had the means available to start over. Not every man in his situation would be so fortunate.

  He’d been stunned by the outpouring of concern and support from the townspeople. Claude had organized a cleanup crew, and Quinn had arrived to find men of all ages—including some who’d opposed his barring of Kenneth and his friends—clearing logs and sweeping up the debris. Shane had ordered him off the site the instant he spotted him, insistent he rest his shoulder, at which point Lucian had stepped forward and invited him to stay at his and Megan’s house. With his quarters buried and his personal items beyond reach, Quinn had gratefully accepted.

  He’d spent much of the day assuring Patrick and Lillian that Nicole was fine. Thinking it best they not witness the mercantile’s destruction, Megan had assured the siblings they’d be able to visit her the following day after she’d had a chance to rest.

  Strolling along the path to her cabin, he’d passed the vegetable garden when he noticed the barn doors standing open and soft light spilling into the night. He paused to peer inside. His mouth dried at the inviting picture she made. Her hair gleamed, skimming the elegant sweep of her neck. She was dressed more simply than he’d ever seen
her in a serviceable black skirt and loose-fitting white blouse. In her arms, she cuddled an adorable rabbit.

  Seated on a hay square, she looked up at the sound of his approach, raven brows sweeping upward.

  “Quinn. What are you doing here?”

  He gestured to the spot beside her. “May I?”

  Scooting over to give him room, she eyed the proper sling Doc had bullied him into wearing. “Is your shoulder paining you?”

  Constantly, as did the stitched laceration at the back of his head. Aloud, he said, “It’s not too troublesome. The sling is Doc’s way of insuring I don’t use my arm during cleanup.” Reaching out, he petted the trembling creature in her arms. “Who’s this?”

  Head bent, her fingers—the tips that weren’t swallowed up in gauze—followed the path his took. “Puffy. Isn’t he sweet?”

  He chuckled. “What kind of name is that?”

  “Considering he’s a puffball, an appropriate one.” She lifted her head and smiled. The lavender rings around violet irises were more pronounced tonight, her inky lashes thick and lush.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed you were an animal person when I first met you.”

  Kicking up a shoulder, she looked at the horses in their stalls. “Animals don’t judge as harshly as people do.”

  Quinn was silent, continuing to pet Puffy as he pondered her telling words. He hated that she’d felt isolated and unwanted growing up and worried she’d experience the same in a new city. Since his arrival, he’d seen Nicole blossom and flourish, growing closer to her family. A small part of him had hoped the new development would change her outlook on Gatlinburg and that she would reassess her reasons for leaving. A foolish hope, it turned out.

  He rested his hand on his thigh. “Are you taking him with you?”

  “I’ll probably be staying in a boardinghouse for a while. He wouldn’t be allowed. Besides, he’ll be happier here. The twins will take good care of him.”

  Standing to her feet, she replaced the bunny in his hutch and faced him. “What I said earlier about staying...I—I don’t think it’s necessary. You’re right. There’s nothing I can do at this point to help you.” Hands linked behind her back, she rubbed the toe of her boot across the straw-strewn floor. “And since you don’t need me anymore, I’m leaving the day after tomorrow for my scouting trip.”