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The backyard, which housed an in-ground pool and Donovan’s cottage, was enclosed by a five-foot-tall black aluminum fence. The gate didn’t appear to have any kind of lock, just a latch.
I pressed the noisy gift bag to my chest and made a run for the shadows of the side yard. Mrs. Pollard’s pug, Gus, barkedfrom inside the house. Adrenaline surged, and I couldn’t wipe the silly grin off my face if I tried.
I was thirty-eight years old and having the time of my life sneaking around my hometown.
I needed to sneak around more often.
With Donovan here, maybe I would.
I crept over to the gate, lifted the latch as quietly as possible, stepped inside the backyard, closed the gate, then darted back into the shadows. I inched my way along, contemplating my next move like I was playing a life-and-death game of chess.
A concrete path twined from the gate to the patio that surrounded the pool. The globe light in front of the Pink Peony Cottage cast circular shadows against its pink exterior, and light shone in the windows. My best hope of reaching the front door unseen was to keep to the fence line, which was dotted with magnolia trees, then make a mad dash to Donovan’s doorstep.
Gus was still barking his fool head off, so I stayed where I was until he quieted. Then I waited a good two minutes before making a run for the magnolia closest to me.
I’d made it two steps before the floodlights flashed on, illuminating me mid-step. Gus started barking again, and next thing I knew, he was racing around my feet, yapping loudly.
“Maggie Mae Brightwell!” Mrs. Pollard shouted. “What in the tarnation are you doing?”
I slowly turned and said, “Hi, Mrs. Pollard.”
I should’ve been horrified, terrified, but oddly, I felt like laughing.
Getting caught out here might be more fun than the actual sneaking.
“Are you having a sleepwalking episode like your daddy?” she asked. “Do I need to call him to collect you?”
Gus sniffed my feet, his ears perked, as I debated whether to lie. Then I heard the cottage’s door creak open.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Pollard.” Donovan stepped into the light. “Maggie’s here to visit with me.”
“At this hour?” she asked, clearly taken aback. “Well, Inever. Well, not often at least. Not anymore, sadly. But why the devil aren’t you using the walkway? Are you having a mental break? Wouldn’t surprise me with what all is going on these days.”
A little giggle escaped. “Maybe?”
Donovan appeared at my side, put his arm around me, and guided me toward his front door. “She’s fine, Mrs. Pollard.”
“Best she call Dr. Jackson, just to make sure.”
He pushed me through the open door. “Good night, Mrs. Pollard!”
He closed the door behind us, and I broke into gales of laughter. Tears leaked down my face.
Donovan looked at me, his eyes bright, and said, “Whatwereyou doing?”
Thumbing away happy tears, I smiled broadly. “Having fun.”
Donovan had cooked chili and cornbread. I was seriously impressed with his culinary skills, even though he insisted this was the only meal he knew how to make.
We’d finished eating ages ago but had stayed at the table, chatting.
I told him all about my mortgage application, everyone asking about us at the coffee shop, and how I was worried about Ava’s health.
He’d told me cute stories about his nieces and nephews, how he initially thought Sienna had somehow started the fire at the bakery even though she never went into the kitchen, and how he’d broken a sweat when signing the lease for this cottage.
I glanced toward the window, in the direction of the beach. “I never thought you’d leave life on the water.”
“For a long time, I didn’t either.” He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms. “Did I ever tell you that it was your mom who inspired me to join the Coast Guard?”
