Chapter 5 #2
She nodded, heard the crowd getting louder, and knew she had to get back out there. “Will I see you tomorrow morning?”
“You will if you’re up to watch the sunrise.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Or him. She dithered, then said, “Thanks for having my back.”
“Anytime.” Then more seriously, he added, “Understand, Marlow, I would never intervene unless you asked me to—or unless it was to physically protect you. In a verbal confrontation, though, my money’s on you.”
“Really?”
“Everyone could tell you had it all under control.”
His faith in her buoyed her spirit even more. “Now see, that’s the best type of backup there is.” It was a remarkable thing to have this man’s trust.
And honestly, it helped her to trust herself more, too. She did have her life under control. Sure, there were moments when doubts crept in and that hollow ache filled her chest, as if some vital part of herself was still missing.
Yet each day, she felt more whole. Each day, she found new courage or humor or determination.
She was healing herself, proactively, on her terms, and it felt great. So great, in fact, that she floated through the rest of her shift.
Cort let her know when he was heading home, but then she’d already noticed that he rarely stayed until closing, and he wasn’t always at the tavern while she worked. Like her, he enjoyed the dawn, and unlike her, he didn’t have a late job to work.
She briefly wondered if that kiss would change things. She looked forward to finding out.
* * *
Over the next two days, Cort’s visits to the tavern were about the same, the only difference being his familiarity in greeting her when he arrived, and letting her know when he was leaving. He didn’t show up any earlier or stay any later.
He didn’t crowd her, and she appreciated it.
They saw each other on the dock in the mornings, and although he wasn’t overly demonstrative, they did share a few more kisses. It was both exciting and new, this fresh relationship, but it was different also. She’d married Dylan as a young woman and had allowed him to guide her—into the right home appropriate to his family name, into her profession at Heddings’ Holdings, into a social whirl of movers and shakers. Why, she couldn’t say, except that it had been easier than standing up for herself.
Cort’s personality was every bit as big as Dylan’s, just quieter and more controlled. With him, she didn’t feel the need to gauge her reactions. Not her laughs or frowns, her disappointment or fascination. Talking with him at dawn over coffee on the dock, she found that she could share anything, embarrassing moments and worried thoughts, and especially things she found funny or exciting.
That was why, on Sunday evening as they strolled along a deserted stretch of rocky shoreline, she said, “I haven’t heard from my in-laws again, and I’m hopeful they’ve given up.”
“Given up on pressuring you?” His hand opened on her back, and he steered her closer. “Careful. There’s a stump.”
She stepped around it, and then stayed near him because it felt right. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind if they’ve just given up on me. On ever seeing me again.” She winced. “Does that sound awful?”
He took a second to answer. “I saw you with them. They were abrasive. I don’t know if grief made them that way, but I suspect they’ve always been a challenge for you.” He glanced at her for confirmation.
Her slight shrug confirmed it. “For the first few years of my marriage, I knew they didn’t approve of me. They were always polite for Dylan’s benefit, I’m sure. They weren’t warm or welcoming, but they didn’t exclude me from things. It was more a look I’d get or the way they’d smile. Condescending, you know?”
“Yes.”
“They had a certain set of friends, people in their orbit, and they always assumed Dylan would marry within that group. Instead, he brought home an outsider.”
“You.”
She nodded. “My family was financially comfortable, but the Heddings . . . Well, you’ve heard of Heddings’ Holdings?”
“It’s a recognizable name.”
“They’re into everything. Properties, restaurants, merchandise. They have more employees than I could count. It’s unheard of for them to track me down here and to show up personally.”
“Guess they eventually accepted you, since they want you back so badly.”
She shook her head. “They’re worried about Dylan’s reputation. Anything and everything they do is reported and shared. That’s just reality for wealthy people. Usually, they’d brush it off, but since Dylan’s gone, they’re worried.”
“And they think you can make a difference in how the story goes?”
“I probably could.” She shot him a look. “That sounds like boasting, doesn’t it?”
“Not when it’s true.”
A damp breeze blew her hair into her face. She shook it back, then gazed up at the dark sky. “I was given a position in public relations at the company. I don’t think anyone expected much from me at first, including Dylan, but I advanced pretty quickly, meeting expectations, sometimes exceeding them, until I went from local to regional and then was overseeing all the public outreach from various departments. Through the years, my position changed and I was given more responsibility, more power, until I was dealing with some of their most important partners and handling their biggest contracts. Sandra and Aston adjusted their attitudes. I don’t know that they liked me more, but they definitely respected me, and in the business world, respect is everything.”
“Respect counts everywhere. It’s hard to genuinely like someone you can’t respect.”
“True.” She hip-bumped him, causing him to miss a step. “I respected you right off.”
Rather than bump her back, he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I don’t give respect lightly. You impressed me right off, but it wasn’t until I got to know you that you had my respect.”
“You feel like you know me now?”
“I do.” He led her to a dock that stretched out over the dark water. It creaked as they walked out, accompanied by the sound of water lapping against the piers. “You’re independent and proud, with a flair for adventure.”
She laughed. “Bramble being the adventure?”
He nodded. “You’re fair-minded, which is why you don’t like injustice.”
“Because I defended Pixie Nolan? I mean, I didn’t. Not her specifically. It was just the idea that—”
Touching a warm finger to her lips, he halted her rambling explanation. “You have a thing for Dior but have no problem mixing it up with comfortable jeans—and a Dry Frog Tavern T-shirt.”
That made her laugh. “Hey, I love that shirt.”
“Whatever you wear, you own it and make it look good.”
Pretty sure her smile would remain for a week.
“You have a generous view of life.”
Because she felt jaded after the past months, she tipped her head and asked, “How so?”
“You don’t get insulted easily. Whenever possible, you choose to be amused instead. I’ve seen that happen a few times now, and I like that outlook a lot. Life has enough real strife in it that no one needs to seek it out just for the purpose of being offended. You’ve dealt with hardship, and you obviously know the difference.”
Awed that he would see her so favorably, she confessed, “I’ve had an easy life. I imagine it’s a lot more difficult for someone who hasn’t had enough to eat or is out in the cold.” She looked up at him. “Or someone defending his country abroad.”
He didn’t comment on that, and she really wished he would. She’d love to know more about him, but he rarely shared his feelings. Cort had to have the same needs, the same desires, as everyone else, yet he was always so stoic. Not that she wanted him to be maudlin, but she wanted him to feel comfortable enough with her to show . . . Well, everything.
It struck her how much she’d changed since coming to Bramble. It had been a little over a month, but she knew she was no longer the same person, and that meant she viewed Cort, and everyone else, differently.
For now, he seemed to want to know more about her, and she had no problem with that. His interest was actually flattering. “One of my duties while working with the Heddings was to approve our social outreach to the less fortunate. For every group or charity that we helped to fund, there were a dozen I had to pass by.” It had left her heart heavy with regret. “I hope they find someone else who takes the task seriously. A lot can be done when you put your mind to it.”
Voice lowering, Cort said, “I have to tell you, Marlow, it’s sexy how much you care. You’re sexy, but you don’t seem to know it.”
Sexy? Her? She nearly giggled again at the absurd notion.
“See?” He traced her lips with a fingertip. “I saw that look.”
“It’s too dark to see anything. I was promised moonlight, and instead we have a cloudy night.”
“True, but the fireflies are out, and you love fireflies.”
“I do.” They flickered everywhere, little glimmers on scrubby bushes, randomly flitting by on the breeze. “They seem magical, don’t you think?”
“I like that you think it.” He tugged her closer. “Are you cold?”
“A little.” The June nights could still be chilly, but Herman claimed by the end of the month everyone would be sweating. Putting her arms around Cort, she rested her cheek against his chest. “You smell good.”
She heard the smile in his voice when he said, “So do you.”
The way he enfolded her in his arms, she felt as if she could do anything, be anyone. She felt sheltered but also empowered. “Cort?”
“Hmm?”
“Is this going where I think it’s going?” She hadn’t dated or flirted or even noticed a man’s interest in far, far too long. “I’m a little rusty here, so I’d like some clarity.”
“If you think it’s headed toward the two of us in bed, then yeah, that’d be my preference. The thing is, I don’t want you on the rebound.”
Marlow immediately pulled back, but he held on.
“Careful. You don’t want to step off the dock.”
She frowned up at him. “I’m not on the rebound, and I’m not so awkward that I’d topple off the dock.”
He grinned. “You’d be surprised how many times a misstep has taken someone off the side or end. It happens, especially at night when the moon is hiding.”
Okay, she could accept all that. One point remained. “I’m not on the rebound. How could I be when things ended with Dylan so long ago? I’ve had months to rearrange my priorities and to get accustomed to the idea that I . . .” That she what? Wasn’t enough for him? That he’d never really loved her?
That she had disappointed herself, most of all.
Cort used two fingers to tip up her chin. “Strong as you are, Marlow, you have to admit you’ve been through it. You said the divorce was bad and took months. Your marriage was empty before that. Then his death and the funeral and upending your life to come here. This is all unfamiliar territory for you. Wouldn’t you like a chance to get your bearings?”
She’d rather get him naked, but she had to agree with his reasoning. “You may have a point. Basically, my life has been in turmoil for too long.”
He smoothed his hand over her hair, then under her hair to clasp her neck. “A lot of changes hit you. You’re happy here, and you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Very much so.”
“Do you want to give it a little time before you throw anything else into the mix?”
“Anything like you? Hot sex? A relationship?”
“Me, definitely hot sex, and as far as I’m concerned, we already have a relationship.”
It was the perfect answer. “You can have one more week. No more.”
He gave a quiet chuckle, the sound echoing softly over the lake and coming back to her again. “Not sure I’ll last a week, but I’ll try.”
“It was your idea.”
“A suggestion because I care about you. Believe me, if you change your mind before that, all you need to do is let me know. Now, tomorrow, two days from now.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “A week, or even a month if that’s what you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Seriously, you have incredible patience.” She sort of wished he didn’t.
“You have no idea.” Together they started off the dock again. “Take whatever time you need to decide if you really want to get that involved. If so, count me in.”
That involved . Why did the idea excite her? He was right that she’d only recently left her old life behind, but with Cort, everything felt different. And yes, exciting.
She gave him a huge smile. “Sunday of next week. It’s a date.”
* * *
At least a dozen times, Cort called himself a fool. He wanted Marlow enough that he should have just gone with the moment. She wasn’t a timid person. She was smart enough to know her own mind, and he’d been an ass to suggest otherwise.
He wasn’t sure he’d last until Sunday, especially now that she felt free to show him affection.
Every morning when she came down to the dock, he greeted her with a kiss and briefly held her in the fresh morning air. She used the opportunity to build the anticipation between them. Each kiss was a little longer, a little bolder. Even knowing she did it on purpose, he couldn’t complain.
As she’d relaxed into her surroundings, so, too, had her outfits. She continued to add touches of Dior, small earrings with her jeans and work shirt. Sneakers with leggings and a tunic. A gold chain with a skirt and tank top.
No matter what she wore, it teased him, because he couldn’t stop thinking about getting her out of the clothes.
Saturday morning he was waiting for her, wondering if he’d last another day, when she started down the hill looking incredibly sweet with her hair haphazardly pinned up. She wore a roomy T-shirt over pull-on shorts, no shoes, and carried her usual mug of hot coffee.
Immediately, he set aside his fishing rod, securing it to the bank, and headed her way. They met at the ramp to the dock, and without a word, he bent down and took her mouth. She was warm and soft, and he was in a bad way.
“One more day,” she murmured, making him groan. With a secret little smile, she caught his hand in hers, and together they walked out on the dock. Instead of sitting in the chair, she settled at the end of the dock with her feet hanging over, her toes just touching the icy water. “I’ve been thinking.”
He sat facing her, one leg bent, his arms resting on his knee. “God, me, too.”
Glancing his way, she grinned. “Wonder if we’re thinking the same thing.”
“Doubtful.”
“Okay, so I’ll share. What’s the plan?”
“Get you naked, kiss you all over, and enjoy each other for most of the day.”
Her eyes had widened with his first words, and now she blinked . . . before snickering. “Love your plan, but I meant, will you come to the cottage, or should I meet you at your house?” Quickly, she added, “I’ve never seen your house, and I admit I’m curious.”
He rolled a shoulder. “It’s just a house, same as any other around here. I’m at the end of the road, so there’s no reason for you to drive by, unless you were going there specifically. You’re welcome to visit anytime, though. It’s older than the cottage, not as updated, but it’s bigger and it’s comfortable.”
“You’ve chosen not to update it?”
He glanced out over the water, but she deserved to know. “It was my mother’s house. Maybe because I still see her there, I like it as it is.”
Understanding, she stated, “Your mother was happy there.”
“Very. Her bedroom was downstairs, with the living room, kitchen, and bathroom close by. It’s easier for me to climb the narrow stairs that lead to an attic conversion, where there’s a smaller bathroom, a big closet, and a sitting area, so I sleep up there, now. I turned her room into an office, but not much else has changed. The basement is still my work area.”
“Did you finish those plans for the siblings? Wade, Gloria, and Bobbi?”
“Yes, and they all three approved, which almost never happens. They’ll each get what they want, but it’ll take a little longer.”
“Do you have anyone who works with you?”
“Sure. Bramble boasts some really talented but retired tradesmen. We have an electrician, a plumber, and a tile setter. Whenever I need help, they’re happy to take on a part-time job. The only time I have to pull a worker from outside Bramble is when we need to pour concrete. That doesn’t happen often, though.”
“So you’re like a general contractor who just organizes the work?”
“Actually, I’m a licensed plumber and electrician, too. I could do it all myself, but that’s time-consuming.”
The approaching dawn reflected in her dark eyes. Smiling, she guessed, “The retired people enjoy your company.”
She always saw him in a favorable light, but she wasn’t wrong. “They enjoy chatting with anyone, really. Plus, they have a lot of experience—decades’ worth, in fact. Almost every time I work with one of them, I learn a new trick.”
She started to say something else, but a sound echoed around them, coming from near her cabin. She glanced back, as did he, but there was nothing to see.
Yet.
Suspicion, and an innate alertness, had him narrowing his eyes. “That sounded like a car door.”
Lowering her voice, she asked, “You think?”
“Were you expecting anyone?”
She shook her head. “No. I haven’t heard from either of my in-laws, so I can’t imagine them returning. No one else knows I’m here.”
“Lawyer? Realtor?”
“Shouldn’t be.” She set aside her mug to stand.
He got up first and helped her. “Want me to come up with you?”
Biting her lip in indecision, she glanced toward his fishing gear.
“It’s fine.” He picked up the empty mug and took her hand. “Might just be a neighbor who’s curious about you.” But he didn’t think so. His instincts were usually dead-on, and he had a feeling trouble had come to call.
“Hmm. I’m not exactly dressed for company.”
Yet she’d greeted him, which told Cort that she was relaxed around him. Perfect. “You didn’t invite anyone, so that’s on them. But I think you look great.”
She sent him a quick, grateful smile as they climbed the hill. “Okay then. Might as well get this over with.”
At the side yard, they could see an older blue two-door car in her driveway. Marlow hesitated, then led him into the cottage through the sliding doors. She cut through the sitting room to the foyer.
Cort saw a small frown pinching her brows as she went to answer the knock at the door. He stepped up beside her, but as she pulled the door open, she froze. Eyes flaring wide and lips parting, she drew in a sharp breath and stared at the woman on her stoop.
He wasn’t sure what to do, and then Marlow whispered, “Pixie Nolan.”
What? Giving the young woman another glance, he saw her white-faced expression and finally realized that she held a small bundle in her arms.
A baby.