Page 9 of Marry Me Tomorrow
“Like, move out of the motel and live in one of the cabins here.”
“I couldn’t afford it,” I wave him off, shaking my head.
“It would be at no cost,” he says.
“What?” I ask, unable to believe I have heard him correctly.
“What if you stayed in one of the cabins here?” he repeats, his expression earnest.
I shake my head, “No, I heard you, but I can’t believe it. Why would you do that for me?”
“Well, Henry is probably one of my most favorite people in the world, and I like to help out.”
“I don’t need charity,” I say flatly, crossing my arms.
“Don’t think of it as charity. Think of it as you are my store manager, and it’s the manager’s cabin. It comes with the job.”
“Does it really though?”
“Well, I’m the boss, so it does if I say it does.”
“What about the profit you’ll lose because you won’t be renting it out?”
He nods for a minute, looking at the reservation book, his fingers tapping lightly against the counter. “Well, there is one cabin that isn’t rented often. It’s farther away from the recreational part of the marina and closer to the boat rental location, so people don’t like renting it as much. Honestly, it’s vacant a good portion of the year. So really, you’d be doing me a favor by living there and upkeeping it.”
“I see,” I say. What is this guy thinking? He only just met me and offers me a job and now a place to stay . . . FOR FREE? Who is this guy? I debate with myself for a bit, but ultimately, I’d be stupid to pass up this opportunity. Smiling, I hold up one finger, “Well, if I am going to do you this favor, I have one condition.”
“Name it,” he says, smiling back at me, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“I can do my painting in the cabin.” I say, and then hurry to add. “Of course, I’ll use a tarp. I always do when I paint, and if I get anything on the wood, I will sand it and restain it for you when I move out.”
“Jenny, stop, it’s okay.” Trent holds his hand out to me. “I accept your condition.”
I take his hand in mine, and we shake in agreement for the second time. That tingle jolts through me again, making me shiver slightly as I pull my hand back.
“Now,” I say, “tell me how to run this place. I am going to be the best store manager-assistant this marina has ever seen!” I grin wide enough to match Trent’s earlier enthusiasm.
Chapter 5
Trent
Why does my mother always insist on Sunday dinners?
The thought crosses my mind for the tenth time as I navigate the familiar winding road to my parents’ house. The gray sky above matches my mood—clouded, heavy, and threatening rain. I’m not looking forward to this dinner because I know the inevitable topic of conversation.
My relationship status. Or rather, my non-existent relationship status.
While running the marina has been easier with Jenny’s assistance at the lodge the past two and a half months, I still haven’t had time to make any headway on my relationship status.
I step into my parents’ house, greeted by the faint scent of roasted garlic and slow-cooked meat. The kitchen, warm and buzzing with activity, looks like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. My mom, as always, is deftly working over a roast with potatoes, onions, and carrots—our family favorite.
“Hi, Mom.”
She turns, wiping her hands on her well-worn apron before pulling me into a hug that smells like rosemary and dish soap. “Hi, Trenton. I’m so happy you could make it,” she says, her smile as wide as ever.
“I always make it to Sunday dinners, Mom.” My tone is dry, lacking the warmth she probably hoped for.
“Right, of course you do. It’s just that lately . . .” Her voice trails off, and I’m silently grateful it does because I know exactly where she was heading.
