From Boss to Bridegroom. Karen Kirst
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moist. Trickling stream water pulsed beneath all other forest sounds.
At the shack door, she rapped her knuckles against the brittle wood in a distinct pattern. A few seconds passed before the door scraped open and a young man with pleasant features, albeit strained and pale, stared back at her. His dishwater-blond hair hung limp across his forehead.
“Nicole.”
Shuffling a step back with the aid of his cane, he admitted her.
“How are you, Patrick?”
“Nothing has changed since the last time you asked. That was what? Two days ago?” His attempt at a smile failed, pain clouding his gray eyes.
She wished for the hundredth time he’d gotten proper care for his injured leg, wished he’d agreed to let her summon the doctor. It hadn’t healed properly, hence the ongoing pain.
Patrick’s younger sister, Lillian, greeted her with her customary hug. Nicole returned the embrace without a trace of awkwardness. She’d grown accustomed to the sweet-natured girl’s affection.
Lillian released her. “You look especially pretty today. How was the church service?”
“I’ll tell you all about it in a moment.” She lifted the basket. “First, I brought you some things.”
“You always do.” Patrick had lowered himself onto the ladder-back chair in the dim corner. Her ongoing charity bothered him a great deal. He was aware, as they all were, that he and his sister couldn’t survive without it.
“She knows we’ll pay her back someday.” Lillian carried it to the tiny, lopsided table shoved against the wall beside the door and eagerly lifted the checkered material. Her wavy flaxen hair, caught in a neat ponytail and tied with a strip of leather, hung to her waist and shone in the lamplight. Several hours remained before dusk fell, but the single window let in precious little natural light.
Moving to sit on one of two narrow beds, Nicole pondered their reaction to her news. The ancient bed frame creaked under her weight, and the mattress was pathetically thin. The ticking would need to be replaced soon. How was she supposed to accomplish that without arousing suspicion? Sometimes, the weight of this secret was almost too much to bear.
Lillian exclaimed over the paper and pencils. The fifteen-year-old was too thin, as was her brother, her skin as pale as the paper in her hands due to spending most daylight hours in this ruin they called home. Neither could detract from her fair beauty, however. Big, cornflower-blue eyes shone in a face that seemed perpetually filled with hope.
Patrick didn’t share his sister’s optimistic outlook. His worries, his deep-seated concern for his sister, cloaked him in perpetual strain. Bouncing the cane between his fingers, he stared hard at Nicole. “You look more pensive than usual. What’s bothering you?”
After six months of almost daily visits, they treated her as an older sibling. She considered them friends of the dearest kind, friends she’d never dreamed she’d find in her hometown. Patrick and Lillian didn’t care what her last name was. They didn’t know her family or that she paled in comparison to her sisters—Juliana, beautiful and courageous; Megan, the romantic dreamer who brought joy to children’s lives; sweet-tempered Jane, whose generosity of spirit bordered on legendary; and high-spirited Jessica, the twin who could bake her way out of any fix.
No, they liked her for her. A heady experience, it was the reason she’d do anything to protect them.
“Something happened yesterday before we opened the store.”
While she’d told them about her new boss, she’d left out the details of their first meeting. Patrick scowled. “It was him, wasn’t it? Our stand-in father was in town again.”
“I didn’t recognize him at first, but he introduced himself to Quinn.” Clasping her hands tightly on her lap, Nicole suppressed a shudder. “He had a sign with your names and descriptions, and he asked Quinn to post it on the board.”
White lines bracketed Patrick’s mouth as he gripped the cane. “Did he?”
“No. I asked to see it and, when he wasn’t looking, I slipped it in my pocket.”
Lillian sank onto the mattress beside Nicole, fingers worrying a tear in the coarse blanket. “You could get in trouble if he finds out.”
“I don’t like this,” Patrick said.
Nicole couldn’t feel bad about what she’d done, not knowing how risky hanging that sign would’ve been.
“Don’t worry. Quinn’s so busy plotting modifications to the store, he won’t even notice.”
“Even if you did post it,” Lillian said, “I don’t think we’d have anything to worry about. It’s not like we go anywhere where people would see us or ask our names.”
Their forced solitude, their bleak existence, was like a gaping wound that refused to heal. No matter where she was or what she was doing, she couldn’t not think about them here with no one but each other to talk to. Nicole hated that they were being punished when they were innocent of any wrongdoing. “I was hoping he’d have given up by now,” she admitted.
“Carl won’t do that,” Patrick said, defeat weighing him down. “He wants the necklace.”
She’d seen the ruby-and-diamond necklace that once belonged to their late mother. While she wasn’t an expert on jewelry, it appeared to be of great value. And because Carl had been married to their mother, he surely thought of it as his property.
“He will also go to any lengths to punish us for disappearing with it.”
She stared at his injured leg. Carl had done that to him. If he got his hands on Patrick a second time, there was no telling what he’d do.
“Let me involve Shane Timmons,” Nicole entreated, not for the first time. “He’s a fair man. He’ll help you. And you’ll finally be able to resume a normal life.”
Patrick dropped the hand he’d placed over his face and jutted his chin in that stubborn way of his. “As a sheriff, he’s duty-bound to follow the law. We’re still minors. He’d be forced to reunite us with Carl.”
“He’s not our father,” Lillian piped up.
“Doesn’t matter. He’s our legal guardian.”
Knowing where the argument was headed, Nicole stood and sighed. “I have to get home.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow?” Lillian pushed to her feet, her countenance resigned.
“Of course.” Pausing with her hand on the door latch, she looked at Patrick. “Please think on what I said.”
“It’s no use, Nicole. Your way will lead to trouble. If Carl finds us, he will finish the job he started. I won’t be able to protect Lillian. You don’t want that on your conscience, do you?”
Soundlessly letting herself out, Nicole sagged against the door and closed her eyes. Without her, there would be no one to help them. No one to keep their secret. As long as Patrick and Lillian needed her, she was stuck in Gatlinburg.
The siblings’ predicament still weighing heavily on her mind the next morning, Nicole wasn’t prepared for the sight of her boss hefting chairs along the back hallway. He was dressed as impeccably as usual, black hair neatly combed, and beneath the rolled-up sleeves thick forearms lightly sprinkled with dark hair were visible. Sturdy shoulders bore the weight effortlessly.
“Duchess. You came.” A brash grin curving his lips, he stopped in front of her, his tall frame blocking her way. Beneath the scent of peppermint wafted soap and spice and man. “I thought after yesterday’s session you might’ve given up on me.”
Nicole pursed her lips together to