turn to see who. The weight of the stares pressing against her back was uncomfortable enough, no need to make eye contact, too. Her smile stretched wider, tighter.
The woman put her hands on her ample hips, and shot the man a hard glare. Her orange sweater clung to her round belly, tweed pants hanging loose on thin legs. She looked a little like an orange standing on two sticks.
“Where is it you’re trying to go?”
Brynn set the printed email on the bar and smoothed out the creases. “Stonecliff House, do you know it?”
Silence, except for the crack and pop from the fireplace fell over the pub. The woman’s brown eyes rounded in her puffy face.
“Why on Earth would you want to go there? You’ve not taken a job there, have you?”
Oh, this is promising.
“I’m visiting my father.”
The woman’s gaze narrowed on Brynn’s face as if searching for something, then popped wide. “You’re the other one. Meris’s daughter. What can you be thinking, coming back here?”
Her horrified awe fed Brynn’s swelling anxiety. “You knew Meris?”
“I did. She was a friend of mine.” Tough, her deadpan expression belied her words. “I’m Dylis Paskin.”
If she thought offering her name would make her recognizable to Brynn, she was mistaken. Brynn hadn’t had contact with her mother since she was three, and her parents had supposedly died in a car accident. Of course, now she knew there’d been no accident. That her father had been alive all these years, and while her mother might be dead now, the woman had been very much alive when she’d turned Brynn over to her grandparents.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Brynn said, keeping her smile fixed in place, then tapped the directions with her fingertip. “So, can you tell me how to get there?”
A loud bang cut through the quiet. Brynn jumped and jerked her head up as a huge man hauling a large wooden crate emerged from a door behind the bar. His hair, a tangled mass of light gray curls, stood out at odd angles.
“Why’s it so bloody quiet in here?” he boomed, bending to set the crate down. When he straightened, his warm hazel eyes locked with hers and he flashed a wide smile. His weathered face was ruddy, as though he’d spent a lifetime in the sun and wind.
“This is my husband, Stephen,” Dylis said, flatly. “This is Meris’s girl.”
“Brynn James,” she offered, pushing her directions toward the couple. Maybe they’d take the hint.
“Back after all these years?” He and his wife exchanged a glance. “I should have realized. You have her look.”
Brynn managed not to snort. The man was obviously being polite. While Brynn had no real memory of Meris, she’d seen enough photos to know she didn’t look at all like her, except maybe her hair color. But even then, Meris’s hair had been a vivid flame-red while Brynn’s looked more like watered-down copper.
“I’m actually looking for directions—”
“She’s on her way to Stonecliff,” Dylis cut in.
Stephen’s wiry brows drew together. “Why in the world would you want to go there? You’d be better off staying at the inn here in the village. Hell, we’ve a room you can rent.”
What was so wrong at Stonecliff that virtual strangers were offering to let her stay with them? Had she not been exhausted and standing there with one frozen foot, she might have given in to the apprehension tickling the base of her skull and taken them up on their offer. But right then, even if the house was filled with psychotic circus clowns, she didn’t care. So long as there was a hot shower and warm bed. “That’s very kind of you, but if you could just look at these directions and tell me if they’re right, I’d appreciate it.”
“Oh, I can do better than that.” A wide smile lit Dylis’s round face. “I can give you your own guide. Isn’t that right, Reece? I’m sure he’d appreciate a lift.”
Dylis turned to one of the men at the bar, and Brynn did the same.
An older man, white hair curling out of his ears, sat next to her watching the entire scene unfold unabashedly. He flashed a crooked grin. “Not me, love.”
He leaned back, giving her a full view of a younger man hunched over the bar. His shaggy black hair fell into his face, hiding his expression while he focused on turning his nearly empty beer glass and leaving crescent-moon marks on the cardboard mat.
Yeah, right. As if she’d let some scruffy stranger into her car. Maybe people did that all the time around here, but not her. “I don’t want to cut his evening short.”
“Nonsense.” Dylis waved her hand as though swatting away Brynn’s words. “Reece is nearly finished here, and you’d be saving him a long walk home in bad weather.”
The man in question had yet to speak a word. Slowly, he lifted his head and glared at Brynn, greenish-blue eyes as cold as an arctic sea. His features were broad straight lines and sharp angles. Black stubble framed his scowling mouth and covered his chin. He looked edgy and dangerous and pissed off.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry.
He slid off his seat, snatching a jacket from the stool next to his, and tossed a few pounds on the bar before closing the short distance between them.
Oh, no. This couldn’t be happening. She did not want him in her car. She didn’t even know him.
“Really, I don’t want to impose.” She grabbed her printed email from the bar and held it out to him. “Maybe you could just tell me if these are right.”
He took the paper and scanned the text, his mouth curling into a smirk.
“They’re perfect.” He handed the paper back to her. “Imposition it is.”
The man looked like he should be mugging tourists in a back alley somewhere, not sitting next to her pointing the way to her destination. “I don’t even know who you are.”
He blew out an impatient breath. “Reece Conway, groundskeeper at Stonecliff. Shall we go, or would you like to conduct a complete interview first?”
What she’d like to do was tell him to forget it. Unfortunately, he worked for her newfound family, and apparently lived on the estate as well. Perfect. There was no way to turn him down without appearing rude. Though, why that would bother her when he was hardly making an effort at friendliness she didn’t know. Besides, the directions were correct and she still couldn’t find her way. She needed his help.
And if he turned out to be a psychotic killer, and she wound up dead in a ditch, at least she wouldn’t be traveling anymore.
“That won’t be necessary.”
She turned and walked to the exit. As she pulled the door wide, Reece caught the edge above her head to hold the heavy oak open for her. Now, he was chivalrous?
She glanced over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
He nodded and dropped his gaze to her wet boot before meeting her eyes once more.
“I stepped in a puddle,” she replied to his unspoken question, heat creeping into her cheeks.
“As lost on foot as you are behind the wheel. Not terribly reassuring.”
“You could always walk, and I could follow behind you in the car.”
His mouth twitched. “Tempting.”
Shaking her head, she walked outside. The sky had darkened from gray to blue twilight. Frigid air, thick with the tang of sea brine, struck her face like a slap and a shudder raced along her spine.
She hit the remote locks, tugged the door open and rolled her eyes. Passenger side.