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“Why’s that?” Madeline plucked a nut from the bowl and began shelling it with her perfectly manicured fingers.
“Because you’re spicy and sweet, aren’t you?” Amusement crinkled Grant’s eyes.
“In the right circumstances, I certainly can be.” Madeline winked at him.
Rory yanked another slice off the fried onion. With her thick blond hair and long legs, Madeline was sexy as hell, but Rory had seen countless women hit on Grant Taylor to no avail whatsoever. He was unfailingly polite and courteous, and he frequently flirted right back, but he never took them up on their overt offers.
Unless he did, and Rory had just never seen it happen. Besides, what man could resist the siren call of Madeline Fox with her knockout body and expert knowledge of the girly stuff that had always eluded Rory?
Her stomach tensed. Must be all the grease from the onion. Grant was right. She should eat more salad. Or at leastasalad.
Madeline leaned closer to Grant and whispered. He turned and pushed the button on the plaque of an ugly plastic fish hanging on the wall.
The warbly strains of Elvis’s “Love Me Tender,” sung in a nasally voice with bubbles popping in the background, began playing. The fish came to animatronic life, mouth gaping open to form the lyrics, and its scales shimmering with silver lights.
Madeline clapped. Cheers and laughter rose from the other bar patrons as the fish performed its nails-on-a-chalkboard rendition of the classic song.
Rory gripped her glass and suppressed the urge to throw it at the grating little robot. Grant had put the fish up on the wall after he’d bought the tavern. Upon request, he’d push the button that made the fish sing, or he did it to amuse people.
Women, specifically.
He refilled Madeline’s wineglass and said something that made her giggle. With a wave, she picked up her glass and sauntered back to her table.
On a purely objective level, Rory got why women flirted shamelessly with Grant all the time. With his thick, wavy brown hair and chiseled features enhanced by an ever-present stubble, he was aesthetically very appealing. Not to mention, he was tall and broad-shouldered with a deliberate way of moving that spoke to an innate confidence.
He also knew how to cook—Rory had heard, anyway—and he treated his customers as if they were guests in his home. He looked people in the eye and listened—reallylistened—to their stories and tales of woe. He was every man’s buddy and every woman’s dream guy.
The interesting part was that no one really knew much about him. He’d moved to Bliss Cove five years ago after buying the Mousehole, and he’d eased seamlessly into town life without so much as a wrinkle.
Next thing anyone knew, he was servingsteak au poivreand fine wine alongside cheeseburgers and artichoke soup, offering his opinion on local politics, showing up at town events, and talking to residents as if he’d lived there forever. He pitched for the Bliss Cove Rockets, volunteered at a nearby food pantry, and was known for being an easy touch when it came to school fundraisers and sponsorships.
The only frustration he caused was among single women who couldn’t figure out, or become part of, his love life. He’d dated occasionally, and rumor had it that he sometimes hooked up with women in neighboring towns, but he never seemed to be part of a couple.
Must have something to do with him not wanting anyonearound.
Well, Rory could relate. Which made her the perfect candidate for renting the cottage.
“Grant, my lease expires on Thursday.” She tapped her finger on the bar to emphasize her point as he approached her again. “The job doesn’t start until after Thanksgiving. I need a place to stay until then.”
“What about your mother or sisters?” He grabbed her crumpled napkin and tossed it in the trash before giving her a clean one.
“I can’t stay with them.” Rory ate another piece of onion and held out her hand, ticking off all the reasons on her fingers. “Mom’s still with Henry and I’m sure he stays overnight, even if she’d never admit that. Callie’s course load is crazy with the start of the new semester, and Jake is using the spare bedroom as an office to work from home. I can’t impose on Aria and Hunter with everything they have going on. None of the apartment owners will give me a short-term lease, and the B&Bs and the Outside Inn are booked for parents’ weekend and then the Harvest Festival. I can’t couch surf with friends either, not with my computer and stuff.”
“So get rid of the computer andstuff.”
“Iworkon my computer, you luddite.”
He shrugged. “That could be part of the problem.”
“It’s only for two months.” She forced down the rising desperation in her tone. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”
“Funny.” He started mixing a drink for another customer. “The cottage might not even be habitable. I can’t remember the last time it was cleaned.”
“I don’t care.” Rory pushed her plate away in exasperation. “I’m not fussy. I wouldn’t even bearoundmuch. I’m still working at Sugar Joy, and at night, I’m just on my computer. I even have headphones, so you won’t hear anything if the windows are open. In fact, I’ll keep the windows closed. And the curtains drawn, so the glow from the computer screen doesn’t intrude on your hobbit hole.”
He shot her a look that was a mixture of amusement and irritation. “No.”
“Grant.” Bracing her feet on the stool rung, she leaned across the bar and grabbed the front of his forest-green T-shirt. The soft, warm material crushed in her fist. “Let me rent the cottage.”
