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 you hire someone to take care of the office stuff?”
She snorted, a gut reaction she failed to check in time. “Um, no.” She looked back at her desk and straightened her spine. “I mean, it’s fine. I don’t mind doing it.”
Not entirely the truth—the details of office work had never been her thing, but she loved the inn and was determined to bring things back on an even keel. With Aunt Lenora getting older and Gavin gone, it was up to her to keep the business afloat. It had been her and Gavin’s dream—to run the B&B, make it their home, raise their children there together and grow old surrounded by its walls.
The inn had a rich history of families who had lived in it—from the time it was first built after the Revolutionary War, surviving the attack by the British on Findlay Roads during the War of 1812, serving as a spot on the Underground Railroad before the Civil War and sheltering generations of families up until the present day. The inn was old, but it was still alive with voices from the past.
Erin ran a hand across the worn, wooden surface of her desk. She couldn’t remember its provenance, but she knew Gavin had told her it had belonged to a great-great-great-someone-or-other. Erin might have preferred to be in the kitchen of the B&B instead of the office, but she loved every square inch of this place.
Her attention shifted from the desk’s surface to its edge as Burke came over and leaned against it.
“It’s past lunchtime. When was the last time you took a break?”
She glanced at the clock and felt a stab of shock. How had it gotten so late? She swept a glance across her desk. And how had she gotten so little accomplished in that amount of time?
“I ate this morning, after the guests did.”
Burke arched an eyebrow. “Wasn’t that at like seven or eight o’clock?”
As if in reply, Erin’s stomach issued an audible growl. Burke laughed.
“I guess that answers that. Come on. It’s time you ate something.”
Erin hesitated. “I have too much to do. I’ll just make a sandwich and eat at my desk.”
“I don’t think so.” His tone was playful but also firm. “You need a break.”
“I’ll be fine,” she hedged.
Burke shook his head. “Erin, you do know you’re not good to any of us if you don’t take care of yourself first, don’t you?”
The words warmed her, a feeling of belonging settling on her spirit. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had tried to take care of her. In the months after Gavin’s death, there had been plenty of phone calls, cards, flowers and visits... But it had been almost two long years since his passing. In that time, everyone else had moved on, even if she still felt stuck in limbo. For so much of her marriage, Gavin had been deployed overseas. There were still some days when she woke up and started her day, not even thinking about the fact that Gavin wasn’t just away—that he was never coming back.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Burke pressed. “Kitt and I packed a picnic lunch, but it’s way too much food for just the two of us.”
She felt the tug of temptation. “What about Aunt Lenora?”
“Kitt and I took her to the community center for the afternoon. Then we ran errands, picked up some stuff for the picnic.”
Erin checked the clock again. Maybe if she stepped away she could clear her head. Although that seemed unlikely given that Burke was a large part of her mental distraction, and here she was, thinking of joining him for a picnic.
“Come on,” Burke coaxed. “I promise it’ll be worth your while.”
She pretended to narrow her eyes with suspicion. “I’m not sure what your game is, Daniels, but I’ll play along.” She pushed back from the desk and ignored a stab of guilt. She was only taking a quick lunch break. She’d make up the hours later tonight, after she put Kitt to bed and prepped the morning’s breakfast.
Besides, she was starving, and she remembered that Burke always packed the most creative picnic baskets. A surge of giddiness swept away any lingering doubts. It had been years since she’d been on a picnic. What could an hour away from the inn hurt?
WHEN THEY ARRIVED at the park, Burke led the way, carrying the inn’s battered picnic basket in one hand and a worn, blue-checkered blanket in the other. The weather had provided the perfect excuse to lure