Chapter 3 #2
That one small confession, something he’d never admitted to another living soul, seemed to have an incredible effect on Marlow.
She lowered her guard.
This incredible woman who always appeared ready to deflect now showed her vulnerability. Not completely, because he knew she was hiding a lot of hurt, but she relaxed and let him in. He felt it in the air, saw it in the way she held herself, and heard it in the easy way she breathed.
It felt like a gift, the best gift he’d ever received.
He understood complicated emotions because he lived with guilt. It was as much a part of him as his need for privacy, his defensive edge, and his ability to handle any situation.
“What did you do today?” he asked her, just to give her a topic to focus on.
Like a lifeline, she grabbed it, chatting about her hunt for commercial property, as well as the continued calls from her mother-in-law.
“I’ve never dealt with a mother-in-law, so I can’t offer any insights.”
Sunlight caught in her golden-brown hair as she tipped her head to study him. “So never married?”
As if it would explain everything, he said, “I served in the Marines until my mother took ill. I’d be there still if she hadn’t needed me home more often.”
“Do you still have your father?”
It was the last direction he’d thought she’d take the conversation. Knowing he had to tread carefully so he didn’t encourage her curiosity or risk her shying away again, he chose the vaguest explanation he could. “He was . . . gone by the time I was twelve.” Not a lie, but certainly not the whole truth.
The seconds ticked by in silence before she spoke again. “I lost both my parents, too.”
“Recently?”
She shook her head. “My father passed away when I was nineteen, my mother when I was twenty-two. They’d both been healthy one minute, then gone the next, Dad with a heart attack, my mother with a stroke.” Brows tweaking together, she clarified. “Mom actually lived for a week, but it felt like a blink in time because she wasn’t really there. The day before her stroke, she and I were working on my wedding plans, looking at gowns, talking about florists, things like that.”
The urge to take her hand was strong, but Cort resisted. She might misconstrue the gesture, think he was coming on to her when he could tell she needed no-pressure friendship more than anything else right now. “You married young.”
“No, the wedding was put off, and then put off again.” Her mouth twisted to the side in a show of regret. “Not by me but by Dylan—my husband.” Those words seemed to trickle into the next. “My deceased husband. I mean, that’s why I’m here.” She dropped back in the seat. “I’m botching this horribly.”
“It’s all right. You don’t have to talk about anything unless you want to.”
“I don’t, not really, only because like much of life, it’s absurd.”
“Gotta tell you, Ms. Heddings, I don’t think anything about you is absurd.”
“Ms. Heddings.” Her lips curled in a smile. “I know it’s my name, but I’m trying to forget it.”
“Trying to forget never works—trust me on that.” Some things just stuck with you, no matter what. “Look at it this way, you own the name. And honestly, it suits you, same as Marlow does. It’s a nice name.”
Her smile bloomed into a grin. “I’ve always liked it. Cort is a nice name, too. Different.”
“So the married name has been a hassle, I take it?”
“Ugh, afraid so. I already told you that the divorce was ugly, and then Dylan died in a car wreck. I wanted out, I thought I was out—mostly anyway—and then suddenly there were police at my door to bring me the awful news, and my in-laws to deal with, and a funeral to plan.”
That was a lot for anyone, and yet look at her, sitting there with a smile, pleased to be in a truck, and willing to check out fireflies. “I bet you handled it all better than anyone else could have.”
“I did my best, but I won’t lie and say it was easy.”
He hoped she’d never feel the need to lie to him. “Being here, in Bramble”— with me —“is your way of starting over?”
“Yes. The marriage ended months ago and hadn’t been great before that. I have to take some blame for letting things get so far out of hand. I loved my job, and it seemed easier to concentrate on that, to pour myself into business meetings and lunches and projects instead of thinking about how distant he and I had grown.”
“Path of least resistance,” he said, totally getting her. “You have a comfortable place in life, and you hate to blow it up.”
Those big, soft eyes of hers studied him. “Great summary, actually. Back then, the thought of starting over just left me breathless. Then I found out there was another woman, and when I confronted him on it, he wasn’t apologetic. He was just hateful.”
What a fool her husband had been. Weak and unscrupulous, too. Lack of honor was a pretty unforgivable sin to Cort. “I was already impressed, but now? A lot of people would sit down and suffer their misery for a year.”
She made a choking sound, something between a laugh and a huff. “I was miserable until I decided on the divorce. Then I was just determined to get out without losing more of myself.”
He understood that, too. It was so easy to let others define you. His mother had done that for far too long. “Then the guy died, and you were stuck.”
Putting her head back, she closed her eyes. “There was so much to do, both personally and professionally, and my in-laws were understandably falling apart. Dylan was an only child, and to them he was pure perfection.”
“Ouch. That had to suck.”
“The eulogy with all his family and friends listening was the worst.” Her mouth hitched to the side in a crooked grin. “I swear, I never wished him dead, but when it rained the day of the funeral, it felt so fitting.”
To hell with it. He reached over and patted her knee, making sure to keep the contact brief.
Touching her was an eye opener. The gesture was offered in solace, but damn, to him it didn’t feel that way. To him, it brought a shock of awareness.
Returning both hands to the wheel, he pulled into The Docker, a restaurant literally on the side of the lake, positioned at the broadest part. Deck seating put customers right over the water. Many arrived by boat, parking at several docks along the shoreline.
Sitting forward, she surveyed the restaurant. “Enough of all that, though. I’m here to celebrate.”
“New job and all.”
Her laugh was light and sweet. “Another new experience. And you watch, I’ll excel at this job, too.”
As Cort parked a good distance down the lot at the only empty spot he could find, he said, “With you, Marlow, I don’t have a doubt.”
* * *
Marlow hadn’t realized how much she’d missed real food until the waitress set a plate of appetizers before her that included crab cakes, chicken wings, and steak bites. She wanted to devour it all, but she remembered her manners and ate delicately—at least until Cort laughed at her.
He had the nerve to nudge the second crab cake her way, saying, “Go ahead. You know you want it.”
And oh, she most definitely did. They were seated outside with the sounds of the lake lapping at the shoreline and the muted hum of conversation around them. The air had cooled, and she felt pleasantly relaxed.
In between sips of her white wine and comfortable conversation with Cort, she ate every last bite of the appetizers. She thought she was full until the server brought out her entrée. The wine paired perfectly with the citrusy, buttery marinade on the pork, and somehow she emptied a second glass.
All the while, it seemed Cort smiled at her.
“Have you been out on the lake?” he asked.
“No.” She hadn’t even thought of it! There was a big body of water she could be exploring. “I need to get a boat, don’t I?”
Watching him fight a grin made her realize how outlandish it was to blurt out the fact that she could simply buy a boat.
Wrinkling her nose, she confessed, “I have a sizable savings account, and once the house sells . . .” She shrugged. “Plus, there are assets from Dylan . . .” No, she wouldn’t talk about him anymore. “Did I tell you that my mother was a college professor? My father a surgeon? I inherited from them as well, and even when I married, I was careful to keep my finances separate.” Damn it, that led right back to Dylan.
Searching for a topic change, she said, “I noticed the tattoo on your, er, biceps.” Her gaze dipped to his upper arm, now covered by the short sleeve of his T-shirt, and still impressively. . . bulging. Shooting her gaze back to his face didn’t help her composure. In a purely observational way, she noted that he was ruggedly handsome. Sinfully so. Cort reminded her of the lake on that stormy day. Remarkable, possibly dangerous, and mesmerizing because of it. He was a mix of strength and comfort.
Not that she cared. Of course not. Not interested.
She needed another sip of wine.
With his gaze teasing, as if he had a secret, he prompted, “You were saying?”
“Your tattoo.” I want to touch it . Nope, she couldn’t say that. “When you were cutting my grass, you had your shirt off. I couldn’t see the details of the tattoo, so now I’m curious.”
Casual as you please, he reached for the sleeve on that arm and lifted it. “Marine emblem. Eagle, globe, and anchor.”
Leaning forward over her mostly empty plate, Marlow studied the image. “It’s nice and manly.”
With a shake of his head, he lowered his sleeve. “Not the purpose, but okay.”
“How long have you had it?”
“Long time.” Sitting back in his seat, one forearm on the table, he asked, “How about you? Any tats?”
That struck her as hilarious.
“Should I take your laugh as a no?”
“My mother would have perished if I’d done anything like that, and Dylan . . .” She groaned. “Bah, I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Then don’t.”
“But everything keeps leading to him.” She rubbed her forehead, then crossed her arms on the table. “I never had any great desire to get a tattoo, but I would never have considered it if I had. Dylan liked things a certain way, and I never minded, so things like tattoos never came up. Manicures and pedicures, yes. Regular visits to the salon so I stayed polished from head to toe, absolutely. A refreshed wardrobe every season because God forbid I should wear the same thing too many times. You see, everyone remembers everything and there would be gossip.”
“Not around here.”
“Which is why I’m having so much fun.”
Their server returned, and as he lit a candle on their table, he asked, “Did you leave room for dessert?”
The fact that everything struck her as funny told her she’d definitely had enough wine. “Decaf coffee?”
Cort spoke up. “You should try the cheesecake with fresh berries.”
As soon as he said it, she immediately wanted it. “I will if you do.”
“Bring us two,” he told the server. “Same with the coffee.”
The dessert turned out to be even better than she’d expected, but maybe that was the atmosphere and the company after so many days spent mostly by herself or chatting with total strangers. She knew Cort now, respected and liked him, and she felt she could call him a friend. A new friend, sure, a hot, sexy friend, but still, he was easy to talk to, even though he didn’t say much. Best of all, he didn’t seem to have any expectations of her.
Switching from wine to coffee had been a good call. She didn’t want to get too tipsy when she still needed to go by the tavern.
As they rose to leave the restaurant, she realized that the sky had darkened all around them. Candles glowed from all the tables. Everywhere she looked, she saw the twinkling of fireflies.
In that moment, after eating scrumptious food and sharing her news with Cort, the fireflies were positively magical.
A perfect accompaniment to a wonderful day. She didn’t want it to end, but she knew she couldn’t monopolize Cort much longer.
As he led her to his truck, she said, “If I’d driven, you wouldn’t have to go by the tavern with me.”
“I don’t mind.”
She believed him. He struck her as a man who spoke his mind without a lot of nonsense tossed in. When a firefly got close, he carefully closed his hands around it, then opened them, palms up, in front of her. The little bug glowed, wings extended.
Inspecting it, Marlow noted the reddish head, the black body, and that soft light. “For an insect, it’s really pretty.”
“Most things are, if you look closely.”
So very true. Until here, now, she’d never have considered getting up close and personal with a bug. Unable to resist, she lightly touched it. The light blinked a few times before the firefly took flight again. She watched it flicker away, lost among a hundred others.
The beauty of the night took her breath away. It was a moment she’d never forget.
Together, she and Cort strolled on, their progress marked by the crunch of their footsteps on the gravel lot. The quiet drone of conversation in the restaurant drifted on the cool evening air, barely audible and in no way intrusive. Stars twinkled in the purple sky, reflecting off the surface of the lake.
“It’s wonderful here.” She thought of all the exotic places she’d been, the luxury resorts she’d visited, and added, “Wonderful and peaceful.”
“Weekends get more chaotic, when the area is open to outsiders.”
“How does that work?” This time, when they reached his truck, Cort helped her up to her seat. As she buckled her seatbelt, she said, “I don’t see any signs restricting people, and there’s no one manning a gate to check addresses or anything.”
Half grinning, he waited to explain until he’d walked around the truck and gotten behind the wheel. “You’re right. No one tells outsiders to leave or anything like that. But the boat launch is closed, so no boats are put in. Bren Crawford, who rents out boats—paddle boats, rowboats, fishing boats, and a few pontoons—is closed all week until Friday evening. Butler, who owns the inn and is also the mayor, only opens on weekends.”
“This town has a mayor?”
He ignored her question to say, “Basically, all recreation is shut down except the tavern and this restaurant, and that’s not enough of a lure to bring in the crowds. If anyone does show up with thoughts of hanging around, there’s no place for them to stay. Other than the inn, I have the only rental property in Bramble.”
She looked at him in surprise. “But they let me stay here.”
He started the truck, and his headlights came on, showing a startled deer that stared at them, frozen for a moment, before it bolted away.
“Oh!”
He drove forward slowly. “Where there’s one, there are usually—”
Four more deer leaped across the road, their bodies incredibly graceful, their white tails the last thing she saw as they disappeared into the landscape. “It’s a whole herd of them.” This was something else she’d never experienced. The house she’d shared with Dylan, which would soon be sold, was remote enough for wildlife but fenced all the way around for security.
“They’re all over the area. Always be careful when driving at night. They have a tendency to dash in front of cars. Just last year, one ran right into the side of my truck. Broke off an antler, too, but was otherwise okay.”
Horrified, she asked, “You’re sure?”
“After doing sizable damage to the driver’s door and front fender, it ran off into the woods without a single limp.”
“I’ll remember to be careful.” The thought of a wreck terrified her. She couldn’t bear the thought of hurting one of the beautiful creatures.
“Now, about the property you rent. That’s another exception the originals made for me. They were all really good to my mom when I got her a house here. It came with the little lake house down the hill, and I figured when I was home on leave, I could stay there. That way we each had our own space, but I’d be close.”
He bought his mother a house. That seemed incredible to her, a wonderfully selfless act for a son.
“Then when the other house came up for sale, I wanted it, too. I figured it could be rental property if she needed the extra income.”
Again, it boggled her mind that he’d purchased three houses, all in an effort to take care of his mother.
“Mom had the knack for winning people over. She talked about me to them, so they felt like they knew me, too. When she got sick and needed help . . .”
One glance, and Marlow knew he was struggling. With the memory, or with sharing it? The moment felt so intimate. Softening her tone, she asked, “They let you move here permanently?”
“They did. And when I asked about buying the house—the one you’re in now—they had a big meeting and approved it, as long as I didn’t rent it out to a group of kids or anything. You might’ve noticed, it’s quiet on the lake at night.”
“Very quiet. I love it.” Once, she’d heard whispers from her covered porch, and finally realized it was two fisherman going by on the lake in a rowboat, talking softly. Sound traveled easily over the water.
“I remodeled it before showing it to anyone, and then the townspeople realized I had handyman skills, and the next thing I knew, I was doing repairs for everyone.”
The urge to scoot closer to him, to touch him, nearly overwhelmed her. He was that easy to be around, and that appealing. “Do you like it? Being a handyman for everyone, I mean.”
He gave his response some thought before saying, “I owe everyone here. They don’t agree, but that’s because they’re such good people. When I moved my mother here, she was . . . fragile.”
Marlow wasn’t sure how he meant that, and she didn’t think he needed her asking questions, so she waited.
A full minute passed before he continued. “Mom flourished here. I got her settled, but I didn’t have a lot of time. I worried, checked on her when I could, but when I saw her again, she was a different woman. Healthier, happier. Like you, she appreciated everything, especially the peace and quiet but also the people.” He flashed her a quick grin. “And like you, she wanted a job at the tavern.”
“Your mother worked there? Seriously?” To have an affinity with his mother delighted Marlow. “See? Smart women know what they’re doing.”
“Stubborn women, too, apparently.” His grin kept any insult from the words. “I’m glad I wasn’t around when she made that decision, or I would have tried to talk her out of it.”
“Like you tried to talk me out of it?”
He skipped past that, saying, “Turned out to be a great fit for her, a home away from home. All the regulars knew her and liked her. They became her social group, and for her, working there was like belonging to a club.” He pulled into the tavern parking lot. “You and my mother are two very different people, though.”
With a heartfelt groan, Marlow asked, “Is this going to be about money?”
“It makes a huge difference to a person’s mindset.” Quiet settled around them when he turned off the truck. The headlights faded to black, leaving them in a cocoon of shadows that the security lights around the tavern couldn’t penetrate. “Mom came from nothing. It took her a long time to get used to having a house of her own. She didn’t need to work—I didn’t want her to work—but when I saw her in the tavern, I knew she was thriving.”
Parts of him called to parts of her. Understanding, empathy. As if his thoughts became her own, she felt his consternation, and his satisfaction.
She stopped fighting the urge to touch him, and in fact, it seemed incredibly natural to settle her hand on his forearm, even when his muscles and tendons tightened beneath her palm. “Working gives us all a sense of accomplishment. In a way, it gives us self-worth and brings balance to our lives.”
Briefly, he covered her hand with his own. His palm was warm and rough, twice the size of hers, and somehow that touch felt like more than it was.
Then he retreated to open his door and step out, and the moment was gone. Unsure whether she was relieved or disappointed, Marlow hurried to meet him at the front of the truck.
Cort paused. “Mom said working made her whole.”
Happy that he wanted to continue the discussion, Marlow explained how it made her feel. “Working is more than labor. It’s thought and effort, and reward when you’re paid. It’s having enough to buy someone a gift, and making sure your bills are covered. It’s self-reliance. Autonomy.” She thought of the big accounts she’d handled at her old job, the revenue she’d brought in. “It’s a boost to confidence. And sometimes pride.”
Staring down at her in the dim light, his eyes dark, his gaze intent, Cort slowly smiled. “Guess that covers it.” He held open the tavern door. “Time to get your T-shirts.”
Her heart jumped in excitement—for about a dozen different reasons. She could hardly wait.