Page 88 of The Guest Cottage

Wasn’t easy, but she managed to stand upright entirely on her own.

He bent to pick up a tool. “Marlow?”

“Hmm?”

As he started back up the ladder, he said, “I care a hell of a lot about you, too.”

Her heart floated. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but for a man like Cort, it was a lot.

And as he’d said, she didn’t need to conquer the world—just this small part of it. As far as she was concerned, she was making excellent progress.

CHAPTER12

With the brighter flood lights installed, Marlow could see the surroundings of the cottage at night. The back flood lights had already illuminated the dock and quite a bit beyond. Now the front lights shone over her entire driveway, all the way up to the road. Could someone still lurk about? Sure. With the large trees and hills, there were enough shadows to hide in, but no one could get close to the house without being seen.

Cort had also set up cameras at the front and back of each house, with signs that stated the property was monitored. It seemed silly now because a week had gone by without incident. She truly believed Sandra was behind the snooping.

For now, Pixie’s secret was safe. However, the young mother was happy to have the added security. The incident had clearly left her shaken. Cort had even added a timer to the lights. When it got dark, they automatically came on. Pixie was content.

The only thing that bothered Marlow was that Cort wouldn’t let her repay him. Stubbornly, in that quiet way of his, he’d stated that the houses were still his and would remain so . . . even after she and Pixie had moved on.

“I’m not moving on,” she muttered to herself while refilling a tray with drink orders. She loved that he’d opened up to her, but now she dwelled on how badly she’d handled it.

She’dcriedon him. Thenyelledat him. And she’d even tried to manhandle him, not that a breathing boulder like Cort could be physically moved.

Privately, he’d explained that he’d like for both of them to stay, but it wasn’t up to him. The town had lived by the same set of rules for a long time.

“Stupid rules,” Marlow said to herself. She checked her order, then grabbed the appetizers that were now ready, along with two burgers. For a weeknight, the tavern was awfully busy. Fortunately, she got off in an hour.

Leaving the kitchen, Marlow got back to work. She delivered the ordered food, then darted between tables to refill drinks. She was still stewing on her campaign to remain in Bramble when Cort arrived. Usually he sought her out right away, but today he found a seat and pulled out his notebook and pencil. Hmm. Perhaps he had a new job request and he needed to jot his thoughts down while they were fresh in his mind.

For Marlow, it was impossible to concentrate with him nearby. He had a presence that dominated a room. There were other men his age in Bramble, but they weren’t Cort. They didn’t have his magnetism, his appeal. At least not to her.

June had come and gone, and the July weather boasted plenty of sunshine and humidity. Herman had air conditioning in the tavern, but with the door always opening and closing, the air felt warm. The back of her neck was damp, as well as the bridge of her nose. Leo, a regular at the place who owned an arcade in town, was talking to her, but then Leo was always talking. It became impossible to follow along, not that Leo minded. Even if he asked a question, he didn’t wait for an answer.

Marlow interrupted him to say, “Sorry, Leo. I need to refill my pitcher,” and she hurried away.

Joann, from the dairy bar, waved her over. Marlow could tell by the woman’s expression that she had gossip. Thankfully, it shouldn’t be about her. Sandra and Aston hadn’t returned, and everyone already knew about—and adored—Pixie.

After Pixie had come into the tavern one day, everyone now asked about her. Some visited her, others called her, and some offered help. People instinctively recognized Pixie’s shyness, and they admired her dedication to Andy. She was a very likable person in many ways.

Marlow greeted Joann with, “Did you need anything else? Dessert? A refill on your cola?”

Shaking her head, Joann said quietly, “They’re having a meeting about you.”

Taken aback, Marlow asked, “Who? About what?”

Rolling her eyes, Joann said again, “Aboutyou. You’ve been at Cort’s guesthouse so long now, no one believes it’s just a vacation. It was bound to happen.”

“What, exactly, was bound to happen?”

“Everyone thinks you’re trying to be permanent.”

Plunking the empty pitcher on the table and grabbing hold of the back of a chair, Marlow steadied herself. “When?” She drew a deep breath. “When is the meeting?”

“Wednesday night.”

“But I have to work Wednesday! I won’t be able to attend. I—”

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