room at night, long after he’d fallen into a restless sleep, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Kitt was a piece of Gavin, an anchor to keep her tethered to this life, no matter how much she might want to drift away.
On some level, she had known it was wrong to wish for Burke during those dark days. Her emotions had been a torment of guilt for wanting him there and anger that he hadn’t come back.
Even now, the sharp claws of shame dug into her, but she couldn’t pull away. His hand stroked her back in slow, soothing movements, and she felt some tension drain out of her. It felt good to be held like this, to feel so safe and secure. She let her head rest against his chest, counting the steady beats of his heart as the crown of her head brushed against his jaw.
She didn’t know how long they stood like that. Far longer than what was appropriate, she knew, but she didn’t want him to let her go. She finally shifted, trying to turn her head to look at him, and her lips came in perilously close contact to his. He froze, and so did she, only a breath apart.
She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to remember what it was like to be loved, wanted. Her eyes slid closed, and she willed herself to walk away from him. But she couldn’t.
“Erin?”
The sound of Aunt Lenora’s voice broke the spell. Erin and Burke jumped apart at the same time.
“Erin, where did you put the welcome packets for the guests?”
She couldn’t look at Burke. “They’re in the bottom right desk drawer in the foyer,” she called down the stairs.
Aunt Lenora didn’t respond, and Erin presumed she’d shuffled off to search the desk for the preassembled packets Erin kept on hand for new arrivals.
“Thank you,” she finally managed.
Burke’s tone was puzzled. “For what?”
She finally looked at him. He was stone-cold serious, his blue eyes almost gray. His T-shirt was damp with her tears, dark smudges marring the pale blue color. He had Gavin’s lips. When she realized that’s where her gaze had wandered, she jerked her eyes away from his mouth.
“For being here.”
“You don’t think I’m too late?” he asked, his voice soft.
She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. Too late for what? To say goodbye to Gavin? To be here for her, Aunt Lenora and Kitt? Or was there something even deeper to his question?
“You’re here now. That’s what counts.”
She was torn between wanting to hear what he might say next and avoiding questions that she couldn’t answer. She turned to go and then stopped.
“Gavin would be glad.”
And then she hurried down the stairs to see if Aunt Lenora needed any help.
* * *
ERIN WAS KNEE-DEEP in a stack of invoices and receipts that needed filing but had been unable to maintain her focus that entire Friday morning. After the roller coaster of emotions from the last week, she had yet to regain her equilibrium. First, her fight with Burke, her outrage over the next several days and then yesterday, his apology where she’d ended up in his arms...
She shook her head, realizing she’d been staring at the same sheet of paper for...six minutes, a quick glance at the clock confirmed. She had tried to make excuses to herself, reasons why she had experienced the insane desire to be kissed by Burke the day before. It was just a reflex, a reminder of the past, a call to her youth.
She and Burke had been so close that summer Gavin had been away, and they’d shared one unbelievable kiss. Her body had reacted in similar fashion to what she had experienced back then. That was all. She was not attracted to Burke.
She could not be attracted to Burke. He was recovering from a failed wedding, a lost fiancée. And she was—or had been—married to his brother. It didn’t matter that she was a widow now. Falling for Burke felt like a betrayal of Gavin.
She was simply thankful, she decided, relieved that she and Burke had made some sort of amends and grateful for how he’d managed to draw Kitt out over the last week. As a result of her gratitude, she’d felt...something. That was only natural...wasn’t it?
She forced herself to file a few invoices, making a conscious effort to clear her mind from thoughts of Burke. But within minutes, she was staring blankly at her desk once more, remembering the feel of his hand stroking her back as she’d cried. When was the last time she’d been held by someone, been comforted? For so long now, she’d tried to be the strong one—for Aunt Lenora, for Kitt, trying to keep the inn afloat and stick to routines. Kitt’s counselor had said routines were important.
But since Burke had come to stay at the inn, their routines had been shattered, and Kitt was happier than she’d seen him in a very long time. Maybe routines weren’t all they were cracked up to be. Maybe she needed to shake things up once in a while.
Or maybe it wasn’t the routines or lack thereof. Maybe it was just Burke. She’d missed him, all these years, she realized. She’d missed having him as her friend, the person she’d always been able to share her deepest, darkest secrets with. She’d missed that. She’d missed him.
“Trying to stare a hole through that desk?”
She jumped at the sound of his voice, turning her attention from the paperwork to see him leaning against the doorframe to the inn’s office. His hair fell across his forehead, and her heart gave a little jerk in response. There was nothing particularly inappropriate in the way he grinned at her, but the feel of his eyes on her caused her to flame in embarrassment just the same. With a considerable amount of effort, she forced her gaze away from Burke and down to the paperwork in front of her.
“Just trying to make ends meet,” she said and then immediately regretted her choice of words. The inn’s struggle wasn’t something she wanted to burden him with. He’d made it clear, in the years of his absence, that he wanted nothing to do with the inn. A part of her feared that if she troubled him with the inn’s situation, it would cause him to flee. Which was strange because she had told herself repeatedly that she didn’t care whether Burke stayed in Findlay Roads or left again.
“You spend too much time scowling over those accounts,” he said, stepping fully into the room.
Her frown only deepened at his words. When had Burke noticed the amount of time she spent reviewing the inn’s financial statements? The idea that he’d been observing her made her feel a little uneasy but mostly, secretly thrilled. She quashed the emotion.
“Well, you know what they say—it’s a dirty job and all that.”
Burke arched an eyebrow. “But why are you the one doing it?”
The tone of his voice, somehow disapproving, made her raise her head.
“What do you mean? Who else is going to do it?”
Again, she’d voiced more than she intended. Burke didn’t need to know just how much of the inn’s responsibilities she’d taken on in the last few years, nor did she want him aware of just how deeply the business was sinking into the red.
“Well, can’t
