Come Morning by Pat Warren

good grace to look chagrined. “Of course. But your mother did say it would be yours, and I just thought… well, surely you don’t intend to live here.”
    She sat down at the kitchen table, trying to come up with words he might understand and believe. “Craig, let’s get something straight. I’m a grown woman and I make my own decisions. I may go back, or I may stay. I haven’t made up my mind. While I appreciate my mother’s concern, I can’t run my life based on what she wants for me. Nor on what you think is best.”
    He took the chair opposite her, gazing down into his glass. “You’re right. I was merely voicing her concern. Don’t shoot the messenger.” He sent her a look tinged with sadness. “And it hasn’t been that long since … since you lost your family. Forgive me if I worry about my best friend’s wife.”
    Her eyes were steady, unwavering. “That’s kind of you, but I’d appreciate it if you’d honor my wishes. I told you back in Boston and again on the phone, stop worrying about me, especially since friendship is all I can offer you. That’s all I’ll
ever
feel for you. If you can accept that, fine. If you’re looking for more, well, you’ll have to look elsewhere.”
    “I have accepted that.” Though he was certain, in time, after the grieving, she’d come around. Craig never had trouble attracting women, but
this
woman was truly a challenge. Maybe that’s why he wanted her so badly.
    “Really? Then what was that kiss all about?”
    He ducked his head, again looking down at his glass. “I don’t know. I saw you through the screen and I just lost my head.” And he’d caught a glimpse of her tall friend and wanted to let the guy know he’d best back off. “You’re very beautiful, you know.”
    Very beautiful, with eyes puffy from her earlier tears, her face too pale, her figure far too thin? There was a time she might have believed herself fairly attractive, but not today, Briana thought.
    She waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not in the mood for flattery, especially when it’s unfounded. I’m going through a bad time, Craig, and I’m not very good company.” As Slade certainly found out.
    As if reading her mind, he glanced out the kitchen window where the man who’d just left was setting out a lawn chair, wearing only a pair of cutoff shorts. “I guess your neighbor thinks you’re good company.”
    “I just met Slade a couple of days ago. He offered to help me paint and…” Briana got up, her patience gone. “Look, Craig, I don’t owe anyone explanations about what I’m doing here or about my neighbors. And I resent—”
    “Truce, truce.” Craig held out both hands, suddenly contrite. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. Briana, can we begin again? I just flew over for a couple of days in the sun. I landed this morning and checked into this terrific place on Broad Street, the Nesbitt Inn. The owners gave me directions to your place and I walked over even before changing clothes. I was anxious to see you. But if you don’t have time for me, I’ll just go sightseeing on my own or whatever. I don’t want to add to your problems.”
    How was it that everyone knew just how to push her buttons? Briana wondered. She wanted to work on the house, but what could another day or two matter? Remembering how wonderful Craig had been when she’d badly needed someone after the accident, she relented. “I’m sorry, too. I’m a little on edge. Why don’t you go back to the inn, change out of your traveling duds, and I’ll come pick you up in about an hour. I’ll give you a brief tour and maybe we can have dinner somewhere.”
    There was relief in Craig’s smile. “Great.” He spotted a camera on the kitchen counter. “Been taking any new pictures?” He strolled over and picked up the Nikon, checking it over.
    She kept all her cameras loaded and ready in case an unexpected opportunity presented itself. However, picture taking had been the furthest thing from her