Page 5 of The Guest Cottage
“You have to be, the town is so small.”
“Of course.” Flashing another quick smile, she stepped around Herman and headed to the bar.
Seeing that she was coming right for him, Cort straightened.
“Do you have food? Anything at all would be amazing. I’mstarving.” Hoisting herself onto a bar stool, she glanced around as if she thought she might find a menu. “I’d need it to go. I was going to stop for a few necessities, but I didn’t see any grocery stores or markets on my way in.”
“The Dry Frog Tavern has pizzas, burgers, and appetizers.”
The name of the place sent her brows up, but she didn’t comment on it. “Pizza,” she repeated with a husky groan, “sounds amazing. How long does that take?”
“I usually have to wait forty-five minutes or more.”
“You have to . . . ?” She shook her head. “It takes that long?” Her skeptical gaze skipped around again, seeing that the twenty or so customers in the bar were involved in drinking, not eating. “Do you have anything I could get quickly?”
By way of an answer, Cort bent to put the rest of his tools in the box, then started out around the bar. “I’ll have my pizza any minute now. I’m happy to share it with you.”
The tucking of her chin and straightening of her posture announced her thoughts without her saying a single word.
Herman reappeared. “Here you go, Cort.” He handed over a flat box of hot pizza, along with some cash to pay Cort for his work. “Thanks for coming out on such short notice.”
Cort gave his usual answer—“Not a problem”—and then made introductions. “Herman, this is Ms. Heddings. She’s renting from me. Ms. Heddings, Herman Black owns the tavern.”
She jerked around to face him, in the process ignoring Herman. “You’reMr. Easton?” Then to Herman, “But he was behind the bar. I thought—”
“Fixing a broken rail for me.” Herman was happy to enlighten her. “Cort’s not quite an original, but his mother lived here for years, and when she started ailing, Cort moved in. He’s our local hero, you know, and a damn fine handyman. Got a problem with something, you call Cort.”
She blinked at the outpouring of information. Cort was used to it. Some of the townspeople used any excuse to flaunt their association with him, regardless of how little it actually meant. He wasn’t a hero, wasn’t special in any way, but he was good with his hands and he’d done work, big and small, for just about everyone who lived in the quaint little town.
It helped that his mother had been accepted, and loved, by everyone who’d met her. During his time in the Marines, he’d moved her to Bramble—largely to keep her safe—and the locals had embraced her. In no time, she’d become one of them.
By extension, they’d accepted him, too.
“Come on,” he said, holding the heavy toolbox in one hand, the pizza in the other. “We can talk outside.”
She was halfway to the door before she thought to turn and say to Herman, “It was so nice meeting you.”
Herman waved and got to work. During the week, the tavern wasn’t overly busy, but tomorrow would bring the Friday night crowd, and he’d be run off his feet through Saturday.
Once they were away from eavesdroppers, Cort said, “I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”
“I got lost several times, and the traffic was brutal.”
“It’s always that way until you get here.” He stowed the toolbox in the back of his truck and slammed the tailgate, then reached in through the driver’s door to put the pizza on the passenger seat. “Here on the lake, it’s quiet during the week. Bramble is a home rule city, and they don’t allow crowds until the weekend. That means all the out of towners congregate nearby. Plenty of people live on the outskirts, too, then swarm in all day Friday and Saturday, and part of the day Sunday.”
“Home rule what?”
Yeah, that had been his reaction at first, too. “Pizza is getting cold. Why don’t you follow me? I can show you the place, give you the keys, and hand over a few slices. I already put drinks in the fridge for you, along with a few other necessities.”
Color rushed to her fair cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you out.”
“Not a problem.” He walked her to her car. “I’ll go slowly, but you couldn’t really miss me anyway. As Herman said, we’ll continue along this road. When you see the lake, we’ll go right about a mile.” He opened her car door, noticing that it wasn’t locked, then waited until she got in. “Ten minutes, tops.” Closing the door again, he started off.
It was either that or continue staring at her.
When he’d done the background check on her as a potential renter, he’d also gone through her social media. This windblown, blushing woman with incredible eyes was not what he’d expected. The fancy clothes, sure. The confidence, definitely.
That smile, though? The way she’d proclaimed herself starving?
