Page 9 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

“Oh, I’ve got rooms.” She stands, and I follow suit. “But I’d like to keep them open for guests. Should they come.” Then she stops. “Wait. I should air out the sheets.”

“No. Don’t go through any trouble for me.”

She waves me off, shaking her head. “No. I insist. You look like you’re ready to drop. I imagine you need a good, long sleep. It’ll give me time to air out the cottage out back.”

Cottage? I wasn’t expecting to have privacy, too.

“Yes, this way, honey.” She leads me upstairs. “I don’t have any reservations until the start of the week. You can crash here while I prepare the cottage.”

I fall in love at first sight. The bed looks so soft and welcoming, I nearly buckle at the knees at the chance to drop into it.

“And before you can ask if I’m sure again,” Marian says with a giggle, “yes.”

“I…” I sigh again, gazing at the bed, tempted to take her generous offer. She’s got to be a guardian angel.

“Don’t make me test my theory that you’ll fall over with a stiff breeze.” She pokes at my shoulder, and with a smile, I give in, exaggerating a staggering step forward.

“I’ll bring you some clothes to get you out of that…that…” She grimaces. “You didn’t pick that dress, did you?”

I shake my head.

“Good. Rest, Lauren. You need it, and I’m thinking I need you, too. This place has been lacking, and you just might be the answer to my problems.”

I smile, loving the simple idea of being needed, of being wanted. The allure of helping her out sounds even better because, since I was a child, I’ve been deprived of making a difference in anyone’s life.

Before I can think about anything else, I surrender to the instant demand for sleep, too tired to even get out of this awful dress.

***

I wake up to the smell of coffee. I lie there for a moment as the memories of the last day come back to me. No, the last couple of days. Marian wasn’t wrong when she suspected I’d drop. I did, onto this gloriously comfortable bed, and slept like the dead. I passed out and stayed asleep through that afternoon, all night, and am just now waking up, early in the morning. I needed every moment of rest. My body feels recharged and ready to get up, even if my mind is still a mess of not knowing what to do. Right now, I’d jump into this deal Marian has offered me.

I find a change of casual clothes in a pile outside my door. She’s thought of it all. Jeans, shorts, t-shirts, some panties, socks, and bras. The shoes, too.

“I had a guest who left all her clothes,” Marian says as she comes down the hall. In one hand, she carries a broom and dustpan, in the other, a couple of garbage bags. “I offered to ship it back to her and she figured I should just donate it. I never got around to dropping it off at the shelter the next town over, and you seem to be about her size.”

“Thanks, Marian.”

“What are you doing with that?” She points at my dress.

I, in turn, point at the garbage bag. “That’ll do.”

With a curt nod, she hands it over. “I’ve got a pot of coffee downstairs. We’ll get started.”

I smile, grateful she’s getting right to it. Maybe she can sense that I need to occupy my mind with something else. I don’t want to be idle, so I shower and change, finding that coffee in the kitchen. I munch on a breakfast sandwich as she beckons me to follow her on the grand tour. Or not so grand. The Goldfinch, as she likes to abbreviate it, needs help.

“My husband and I started it as a retirement project. Mind you, we built up this property forty years ago, knowing we’d be here forever. We always wanted to have a B&B. He passed three years ago, though, and I’ve struggled to keep up.”

She points out the rooms and explains the setup, which is very laidback.

“We don’t have any children, so it’s just been me. And as you can see, it’s more than a one-woman job.”

“I’ll do my best,” I promise. She likes to do the housekeeping and cooking, which is fine by me. As we chat and she shows me the property, I grow more excited about the chance to be artsy and make something. I went to college for interior design. While she’s done a great job at keeping the inside cozy and clean, I see the needy exterior as a blank canvas. I can’t wait to get started tidying up the place.

By the time we circle back to the cottage where I’ll be staying—which is neat and inviting—I’m glad I happened to find Marian out here in what feels like the middle of nowhere.

“I stay right over there,” Marian explains, pointing at a similar cottage on the other side of the property. “We lived in the Goldfinch, but after we retired and started the B&B, we moved out here and a groundskeeper stayed in yours.”

I like that. Mine. Even though it’s sudden, I feel like it will be mine. This place seems more like home than my parents’ house ever did. I imagine it’s Marian. She’s naturally motherly, and with her all alone out here with no husband and kids, not even a nearby neighbor, my heart breaks for her.

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