Page 93 of The Guest Cottage

Pixie said, “I need five minutes.”

“You can’t keep Mr. Heddings waiting,” the angry dude growled.

Wanna bet?“Wait or don’t wait, but I need five minutes.” Without another word, Pixie went to the love seat to change Andy’s diaper. He continued to fuss, kicking and anxious to be nursed. She’d have to make it a very quick visit with Mr. Heddings so she could feed her son. If the man wanted to get to know Andy, it would need to be on another day, when he was polite enough to call in advance and make appropriate arrangements instead of dropping by unannounced.

Now was not a good time.

Once Andy was freshly diapered, his fist in his mouth, Pixie smoothed her hair, gave a tug to her loose T-shirt and, carrying Andy close to her chest, went to the door and turned the locks.

The second the door swung open, Mr. Heddings stared—first at her, and then at Andy. Sweat beaded on his temples, and his eyes appeared red.

Pixie braced herself, for what she wasn’t sure.

Until his gaze met hers and he stated, “I’ll give you twenty-five thousand dollars to leave and never come back.”

* * *

When Cort slowed in front of the lake house, then came to an idling stop, Marlow’s thoughts veered from her intention to first get Cort naked, love him silly, and then grill him on his so-called plans. She’d been figuring out everything she wanted to say, and how to say it, when he stopped.

One glance at Pixie’s place and she saw why. A Mercedes Maybach sat in her driveway, the same car that had driven away when Pixie had spotted her nighttime intruder.

Worse, she recognized Aston Heddings with another man, standing at the open front door.

It took all she had not to leave her car right there in the road and run to Pixie. She thought about blasting her horn to get Cort moving when he slowly, as if undecided about what to do, pulled his truck into the driveway.

Parking behind him, Marlow grabbed her purse and started to get out. Cort opened her door but blocked her in. “Stay put a minute.”

Her brows shot up, but she didn’t have time for this. “That’s Aston.”

Staring at the men, Cort said, “I don’t care if he’s Santa Claus. This feels off.”

She was even more alarmed—for Pixie. “It’ll be fine.” As she scrambled out past him, she said, “Behave, okay?”

Given the incredulous look on his face, no one had ever told Cort to behave before.

She snagged his hand. Whatever was about to happen, she wanted him with her.

Trotting forward, Marlow called out, “Aston, hello.” From behind the men, she could see Pixie, her eyes dazed and her body frozen, and the sight put Marlow into a killing rage. Not that she’d show it. Yet. No way would she give Aston the upper hand. “What are you doing here?” She glanced around. “Where’s Sandra?”

“She’s at home.” Turning his back on Pixie, Aston directed all his anger at Marlow. “You knew.”

Oh, this wasn’t good. Mustering a show of bravado, Marlow thrust up her chin. “Knew what, exactly?”

“That Pixie Nolan is here, that she has a child she claims is Dylan’s.”

Still clinging to Cort’s hand, Marlow said, “Yes, I’ve known Pixie for a little while now.”

Aston’s voice rose an octave. “And you didn’t see fit to tell us?”

He might as well have shoutedtraitor! The accusation was there in his florid face and the bunching of his eyebrows.

There wasn’t much she could say. He and Sandra should have been notified, but then again, it wasn’t her place to do that. “If you want to speak to me, you’ll lower your voice.” Releasing Cort, Marlow stepped around Aston to reach Pixie. In a near whisper, she asked, “Are you all right?”

Pixie’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Andy was starting to fuss, and when Marlow glanced back at Cort, he appeared far too grim.

She cleared her throat. “Pixie? Would you like to invite them in?”

“He . . . he offered me money.” Pixie seemed to have a hard time replying. “A lot of it.”

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