Page 22 of The Guest Cottage

She made a choking sound, something between a laugh and a huff. “I was miserable until I decided on the divorce. Then I was just determined to get out without losing more of myself.”

He understood that, too. It was so easy to let others define you. His mother had done that for far too long. “Then the guy died, and you were stuck.”

Putting her head back, she closed her eyes. “There was so much to do, both personally and professionally, and my in-laws were understandably falling apart. Dylan was an only child, and to them he was pure perfection.”

“Ouch. That had to suck.”

“The eulogy with all his family and friends listening was the worst.” Her mouth hitched to the side in a crooked grin. “I swear, I never wished him dead, but when it rained the day of the funeral, it felt so fitting.”

To hell with it. He reached over and patted her knee, making sure to keep the contact brief.

Touching her was an eye opener. The gesture was offered in solace, but damn, to him it didn’t feel that way. To him, it brought a shock of awareness.

Returning both hands to the wheel, he pulled into The Docker, a restaurant literally on the side of the lake, positioned at the broadest part. Deck seating put customers right over the water. Many arrived by boat, parking at several docks along the shoreline.

Sitting forward, she surveyed the restaurant. “Enough of all that, though. I’m here to celebrate.”

“New job and all.”

Her laugh was light and sweet. “Another new experience. And you watch, I’ll excel at this job, too.”

As Cort parked a good distance down the lot at the only empty spot he could find, he said, “With you, Marlow, I don’t have a doubt.”

* * *

Marlow hadn’t realized how much she’d missed real food until the waitress set a plate of appetizers before her that included crab cakes, chicken wings, and steak bites. She wanted to devour it all, but she remembered her manners and ate delicately—at least until Cort laughed at her.

He had the nerve to nudge the second crab cake her way, saying, “Go ahead. You know you want it.”

And oh, she most definitely did. They were seated outside with the sounds of the lake lapping at the shoreline and the muted hum of conversation around them. The air had cooled, and she felt pleasantly relaxed.

In between sips of her white wine and comfortable conversation with Cort, she ate every last bite of the appetizers. She thought she was full until the server brought out her entrée. The wine paired perfectly with the citrusy, buttery marinade on the pork, and somehow she emptied a second glass.

All the while, it seemed Cort smiled at her.

“Have you been out on the lake?” he asked.

“No.” She hadn’t even thought of it! There was a big body of water she could be exploring. “I need to get a boat, don’t I?”

Watching him fight a grin made her realize how outlandish it was to blurt out the fact that she could simply buy a boat.

Wrinkling her nose, she confessed, “I have a sizable savings account, and once the house sells . . .” She shrugged. “Plus, there are assets from Dylan . . .” No, she wouldn’t talk about him anymore. “Did I tell you that my mother was a college professor? My father a surgeon? I inherited from them as well, and even when I married, I was careful to keep my finances separate.” Damn it, that led right back to Dylan.

Searching for a topic change, she said, “I noticed the tattoo on your, er, biceps.” Her gaze dipped to his upper arm, now covered by the short sleeve of his T-shirt, and still impressively. . . bulging. Shooting her gaze back to his face didn’t help her composure. In a purely observational way, she noted that he was ruggedly handsome. Sinfully so. Cort reminded her of the lake on that stormy day. Remarkable, possibly dangerous, and mesmerizing because of it. He was a mix of strength and comfort.

Not that she cared. Of course not. Not interested.

She needed another sip of wine.

With his gaze teasing, as if he had a secret, he prompted, “You were saying?”

“Your tattoo.”I want to touch it. Nope, she couldn’t say that. “When you were cutting my grass, you had your shirt off. I couldn’t see the details of the tattoo, so now I’m curious.”

Casual as you please, he reached for the sleeve on that arm and lifted it. “Marine emblem. Eagle, globe, and anchor.”

Leaning forward over her mostly empty plate, Marlow studied the image. “It’s nice and manly.”

With a shake of his head, he lowered his sleeve. “Not the purpose, but okay.”

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