Page 19 of The Guest Cottage
To escape her own realizations, she made the decision to grab her keys and go somewhere, anywhere. She was back at the door in thirty seconds, ready to walk out for God knew where . . . when Cort pulled into her driveway.
Her heart lifted—butno. She would not rejoice at the sight of a man,anyman. Never again would she sink that low. And yet, her heart beat a little faster. Not with personal interest, she assured herself, but at the presence of another soul, a person toseeher, someone tohearher.
She knew Dylan had stopped seeing and hearing her long before she’d discovered his deceit.
Composing herself, she stepped out, locked the door behind her, and met her landlord on the walkway. “Cort, hi. What’s up?”
His dark brows rose as he noted the keys in her hand. “You’re on your way out?”
“Just a little spur of the moment celebration.”Ha, what a lie. Leaning closer, she shared, “Herman hired me.”
One of those beautiful, dimpled smiles of his appeared. “And that makes you happy, I take it?”
He was so striking when he smiled, it was a good thing he didn’t do it more often. Her heart couldn’t take it. “I’ve been a slug, so yes. I’m ready to be busy.”
“I won’t hold you up. Mail is delivered to the post office, and this came for you. It was given to me because I own the property.”
She finally noticed the thick packet in his hands. Since Sandra hadn’t mentioned Dylan’s papers again in her last few calls, Marlow had forgotten all about them.
When she hesitated to take the packet, Cort let his hand drop back to his side. “Where do you plan to celebrate?”
Biting her lip and feeling a little like a coward, Marlow looked up at him. He was so tall, and yet with him she didn’t feel small. It had to be something about Cort, his ease and openness with others. “No idea. I guess . . . back to the tavern?”
He shook his head. “Now what kind of celebration would that be?”
“I don’t know. I thought I’d get a drink, maybe something to eat.”
“You know, we have an actual restaurant here.”
“Here?”
“In Bramble. On the lake actually, and the fireflies are out.”
“Fireflies?” That sounded dreadful, similar to the pesky mosquitoes. “As in bugs?”
He grinned again. “Have you ever seen them?”
“Maybe, when I was young?” Those memories were so vague that she sometimes felt seventy instead of thirty-five.
“You realize the lake is as nice at night as it is during the day, right?”
Honestly, she hadn’t thought about it. Making a sudden decision, she asked, “Where is this restaurant? I want to check it out.” And she wanted to see the fireflies, to see if they were as “nice” as Cort claimed.
“I could show you, if you wouldn’t mind a little friendly company—or is it to be a private celebration?”
Did he know? Had he somehow looked at her face and seen that she was as lonely as a person could be? Playing it cool, she said, “I don’t mind company, if you don’t have anything else you need to be doing.”
“I’m done for the night. Come on, you can ride with me.”
Ride with him, in his big muscle truck? The idea gave her a thrill. She couldn’t recall ever riding in a truck. “I also have to stop at the tavern later.” With a good dose of glee, she boasted, “I’m picking up some uniform T-shirts.”
This time, Cort actually laughed as he opened the passenger door for her to get in. “We can go by there, no problem.”
The shiny black truck was pretty high off the ground, but she saw a step. Now how to . . . ?
“Foot there,” Cort said. “Grip right here and pull yourself up. If you need help, I can hoist you.”
Good God, he made her sound like a load of cargo, and in fact, maybe she was. “I’ll manage, thank you.” She had to hop twice before she got her backside into the seat, but it felt like another accomplishment, and she couldn’t stop grinning. Trucks were nice, she decided. From the seat she had a better view, being higher up.
