Page 94 of The Guest Cottage
“Oh?” As she turned to face the men, Marlow stepped in front of Pixie so that she mostly blocked her from their view. “Trying to buy her off, Aston?”
“Dear God,” he breathed, his hands in fists at his sides. “This is low even for you, Marlow.”
Well, that stung. “Even for me?”
Aston took an aggressive step forward, and Cort was there, blocking his way. “I wouldn’t.”
Appalled, Aston stepped back, then remembered himself and turned to the man with him—who took that look as permission to press forward.
Marlow stood her ground but said, “Cort?”
“Yes?” he growled.
“If he doesn’t behave, you don’t have to either.”
Cort slowly smiled, and now he was the one stalking forward, effectively backing both men farther away from the door.
Marlow had no idea what she might have unleashed, but she had faith that Cort could handle the situation, one way or another. He was a calm, capable, peaceful man, she reminded herself. He wouldn’t escalate the confrontation.
Needing a moment, Marlow said, “If you gentlemen would all wait here, I’ll discuss this with Pixie.” She started to close the door—not completely, just enough for privacy—but the man with Aston reached out to stop her.
Cort said, “No.” Just that, calmly stated, but wow, it had impact.
“Whoareyou?” Aston demanded.
Oh, Lord. Marlow realized things had just gotten even more complicated.
“You first,” Cort said with a nod at the guy Aston had brought along.
“He works for me.”
Cort nodded. “Marlow is a tenant.”
“More than a tenant,” Aston sneered.
“More than an employee,” Cort countered.
Well. Clearly, Cort had this under control. She touched his arm. “Just a few minutes, okay? If they choose to leave, that’s fine.”
“Sure.” Cort stationed himself on the front stoop, an immovable object standing in the way of anyone who tried to rush her timeline. “Let me know when you’re ready.” Then he pulled the door shut. Completely.
Well darn. Now she’d have no idea what was happening out there. That was impetus enough for her to hurry the discussion along.
Releasing an unsteady breath, she quickly turned her attention to Pixie. “Come on.” She led Pixie to the love seat and urged her to sit.
“I . . . I need to feed Andy.”
“Do you want privacy?”
She grabbed Marlow’s hand. “No. Don’t leave me.”
In that moment, Marlow knew she’d fight dragons—or angry in-laws—for this wounded young woman. “I’m right here.” Andy started to fuss, knowing what was to come, so Marlow said, “Go on. We can talk while you nurse him.”
With a nod, Pixie got the baby settled, but she wouldn’t meet Marlow’s gaze. After a moment, she said, “He offered me twenty-five thousand dollars to go away.”
“Bastard,” Marlow replied mildly, but the offer worried her. “What do you want to do?”
“It’s so much money. I could repay you and Cort.”
