Page 8 of The Guest Cottage

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Page 8 of The Guest Cottage

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Stretching awake on the supersoft mattress, Marlow breathed in the cool air and tried to orient herself to her new surroundings: well-worn quilt instead of a silk comforter, pale blue walls with pictures of birds instead of rich cream with original artwork. Everything was close and cozy in the twelve- by fourteen-foot room. She liked it far more than the bedroom she’d left, which was more than twice that size.

After all the driving yesterday and getting settled in, as well as her foolish behavior with Cort, she’d slept more soundly than she ever had in her life. She’d never taken a sleeping pill or drunk enough to knock herself out, but she imagined waking up after doing so would feel like this, sluggish and lazy, her thoughts blurred.

Stretching once more for good measure, she crawled out from under the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Brrr, the hardwood floors were cold, and she hadn’t yet unpacked enough to find her slippers. She located thick socks instead, then padded into the tiny bathroom. The tile was icy instead of heated, and the tub wasn’t jetted but sat on four cast-iron legs.

She loved all of it.

Every new, different, and simpler aspect of it all.

Pulling a shawl around her shoulders, she went into the kitchen and started the coffeepot. Keeping the smile off her face was impossible as she tried to decide what to do that day. Exploring seemed like a good idea. After she unpacked, of course. And bought some groceries.

And met with Cort.

She wasn’t sure why, but as she sipped a cup of coffee, she went through the kitchen to the sliding doors in the sitting room. One peek outside and the amazing sunrise over the lake captured her. Holy smokes, she’d never seen anything like it. It was as if a star had burst and poured brilliantly hued watercolors over the calm surface.

There was no hesitation as she opened the door and headed outside. The lake offered a stunning mirrored reflection of orange, yellow, and red.

The dew-wet grass immediately soaked her socks, and her sleep shirt and shorts offered little protection from the chill. Didn’t matter. She couldn’t resist trekking down the slight hill and onto a short dock to take in the view. Holding her warm coffee mug in one hand, cinching her shawl close over her collarbone with the other, she inhaled the crisp, fresh scent of country air. Even the early morning breeze that stirred her hair and set goose bumps over her skin didn’t bother her.

This had to be heaven.

“Hey.”

Nearly leaping out of her skin, she jerked around, spilling coffee everywhere and almost tripping off the dock.

“Careful. This early, the water is like ice.”

“Cort.” He stood on the shore with a fishing rod in hand, his line cast out.

“You’re up early.” His gaze took a two-second trip down her body, then deliberately focused on the lake as he began to reel in his line. “I didn’t expect to see you this soon.”

Mute. She’d gone entirely, ridiculously mute.

Without looking at her again, he said, “The sunrises are something to see. When I first moved here, they drew me out, and now I like to fish in the early morning. It’s so quiet, even the frogs are sleeping.”

The second he mentioned the frogs, she heard a deep-throated rumble begin and had to grin. “Well, they were. I think I woke them up.”

“Maybe.” He kept his gaze on the lake as he cast out again. “You should probably get a jacket. The mornings are still cold.”

“I didn’t think anyone else was around.” She glanced beyond him and saw a tiny lake house and a larger house up on the hill. “That’s where you live?”

“Yes.”

Three houses. Mr. Easton was doing okay for himself. “No one is in the lake house right now?”

He shook his head. “I get weekend fishermen in it off and on, but with only one bedroom with an efficiency kitchen, it’s not big enough for most people who want to vacation.”

A comfortable silence spread over them. Marlow gathered her shawl around her and then carefully sat yoga style on the dock, avoiding the spilled coffee. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Cort repeatedly cast out, then reel in, as the sun rose, shedding a golden gleam onto the water. The mist cleared away, and the air warmed. Her coffee cup, now empty, sat on the dock beside her.

In some indefinable way, it was the perfect morning for the start of her new life. Peaceful but not alone. Company that wasn’t intrusive. No questions, no small talk.

And no pressure.

She’d just about convinced herself to get it in gear when she heard a splash and turned to see Cort reeling in a large fish.

Morbid fascination brought her to her feet. “You got one!”


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