Page 99 of Grumpy on the Mountain
But it's just Etta and Mabel, looking more rushed and alert than I've ever seen two seventy-something women look in their lives.
"Oh, thank goodness you're here!" Etta exclaims the moment she spots us, hurrying over with Mabel right behind her.
"We've been looking everywhere for you," Mabel adds, slightly out of breath.
"Oh God. What's wrong?" Molly asks, and I can hear the fear in her voice.
"Well, we were having our evening tea—the good stuff, you know, the Earl Grey with the real bergamot—when we saw this car parked across from Linda's shop," Etta begins.
"Swanky, flash thing it was. Been there all afternoon," Mabel interjects. "Just sitting there. Watching."
"So naturally, we went to investigate," Etta continues like this level of nosiness is completely normal. "And there was this man inside. Very tall, very handsome. But in that slick city way that makes you want to count your silverware."
"Dark hair, expensive suit, driving one of those fancy sedans you see on the television ads,'" Mabel adds helpfully.
I feel like Charlie's thrown a pitcher of ice water over my head.
That description could fit half the men in any major city, but combined with Charlie's report, there's no doubt in my mind who they're describing.
"He checked into Fox Hollow Lodge this afternoon," Etta reports with the efficiency of a seasoned intelligence operative. "Told Margaret at the front desk he was here on business, but when she asked what kind of business, he got all vague and charming."
"Too charming," Mabel confirms with a disapproving shake of her head. "And he asked way too many questions about locals. Specifically about 'a blonde woman who recently moved here.'"
Molly makes a small sound of distress, and I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close to my side.
"Made Linda real uncomfortable when he stopped by the general store," Etta continues. "Wanted to know about newcomers, about who worked where, about the social scene.Asked if there were any good restaurants for 'reconnecting with an old friend.'"
The rage building in my chest threatens to explode outward, but I force it down. Getting angry won't help Molly. What she needs is calm, controlled protection.
"Thank you for telling us," I say to the two women, meaning it more than they'll ever know.
"Oh, we're not done," Mabel says with grim satisfaction. "Told Frank Barrett to keep an eye on that car, and Betty's got half the café watching Fox Hollow Lodge. This is our town, and we don't appreciate strangers making our people uncomfortable."
The fierce protectiveness in their voices catches me off guard. These women—this entire fucking town—is ready to rally around Molly like she's been here for years instead of weeks.
"Come on," I murmur to Molly, already guiding her toward the door. "We're going home."
The drive back to my cabin is tense and silent, my eyes constantly checking mirrors while Molly sits rigidly beside me, processing the reality that her past has finally caught up with our perfect present.
By the time we reach the cabin, my protective instincts are in full overdrive.
I park closer to the front door, scan the treeline for movement, and hustle Molly inside before activating every security measure I've installed over the past three years.
Locks.Check. Curtains drawn.Check.
"Beau," Molly says softly as I move to my gun safe, "I'm scared."
"I know, baby." I key in the combination, retrieving my service pistol and checking the magazine. "But you're safe here. I won't let anything happen to you."
"B-but… I-I did th-this. I've led him right here, h-haven't I?" Her voice breaks on each word, simultaneously breaking myheart at the same time. "All those Instagram posts, all those perfect mountain life photos. I painted a target on this entire town."
"Hey." I pull her against my chest, hating that my own fucking flesh and blood has made her like this. "This isn't your fault. This is him being a controlling asshole who can't accept that you chose better."
"But—"
"No buts. You have every right to share your happiness. You have every right to build a life here. And you have every right to feel safe doing it." My thumbs brush away her tears. "This is on him, not you."
She nods, leaning into my touch, and I press a soft kiss to her forehead.
