Page 13 of Finally Moore

Scott

Scarlettescortsmeinsidethe cabin. “Home sweet home,” she says as she gestures around the tiny space. “I know it’s small. It was my grandfather’s, and as you can tell, he was kind of a minimalist. But it works since I don’t spend a ton of time here—it serves its purpose. Plus…” She smiles. “It’s kind of cozy.”

Smallis a generous description. I mean, from the outside, it’s obvious this isn’t some grand mansion. But once you’re inside, it feels one step short of a studio apartment and one step above an insulated shed with plumbing. My lips tip up at one side as my eyes flick around the interior. Besides the…coziness,as she called it, there’s also something about this place that screams Scarlett. A sort of hominess that definitely has nothing to do with the old man who lived here before her.

“Um, so, yeah. Let me give you the grand tour. Behind this curtain is the tub.” She opens the heavy floral drape and reveals an old claw-foot basin with a wall-mounted showerhead. “You might not think it, but these black-out curtains are great at keeping the heat in while you shower. Oh, and over here is the toilet.” She opens the door to what I initially assumed was a coat closet. “If you go number two, just make sure to flush twice. But sometimes you might need to let it settle and try again later.” She shrugs as if indoor plumbing should be this unreliable, then shuts the door and turns to face me with a fresh flush spreading across her cheeks.

I’ve never discussed finances with Scarlett, and unless absolutely necessary, my siblings and I rarely discuss ours with each other either. Still, I have to wonder how much money she’s losing with this place. It’s public record that her grandfather’s house was auctioned off by the bank over a decade ago. Which is why I’m guessing he moved in here. It’s tiny and cost-efficient—a bonus when you are putting the majority of your earnings back into your business. I’ve seen the improvements that have been made to the inn since Scarlett took over. She’s done a lot to ensure it’s the perfect wedding venue and vacation spot. So the businessman in me says that there’s no way she’s still that deep in the red.

I can’t help but wonder why she hasn’t looked into improving her own living conditions? Surely, she’s turned enough profit to do a few upgrades by now…

Scarlett rushes over to her kitchen area, drawing me from my thoughts as I watch her gesture to the appliance in front of her. “It’s probably not the state-of-the-art setup your used to, but it works.”

My jaw drops as my eyes take in the small mint-green Chambers stove. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it the moment I walked in. “That thing is awesome.” I inspect it more closely. “My pops used to have one just like this. His was an off-white, but these old things are incredible. No joke, the griddle makes the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted.”

Scarlett chuckles. “Well, feel free to make whatever you want on it. As you can tell, it’s hardly used.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course.Mi casa es su casa. There are a bunch of old cast-iron pans and stuff in that cupboard right over there.”

I scurry over to the cupboard in question with as much joy as a small child on Christmas morning. She’s right. There’s an entire set holed up in here, just begging to be used.

“The place was pretty neglected when I moved in. It didn’t appear as though my grandpa had used any of the cookware in years. But don’t worry, I made sure to wash them up. It took me a whole bottle of Dawn and a lot of elbow grease, but I got them looking as good as new.”

I pivot on my heel and stare at her, my jaw dropped and my mind reeling. “You what?”

“Oh my god.” She lifts a hand to cover her smile. “The look on your face.” Then she doubles over with laughter. “Totally worth it.”

“So, you didn’t—”

“God, no. I might not be a professional chef like you, Scott Moore, but even I know better than to use soap on cast iron.”

I let out a relieved sigh as Scarlett continues to enjoy my short-lived misery.

“Anyway,” she sings. “Here’s my room.” She slides another curtain aside, this time to reveal a small bed surrounded by a mountain of books. The walls are insulated by additional bookshelves, nearly as overflowing as the piles on the floor.

“You really like to read,” I comment as my fingertips glide over the titles within my immediate reach. Mostly various genres of romance. I can’t help but think these don’t seem to be the kind of books her grandfather would keep. No, these are all Scarlett’s.

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “I need something to pass the time. Plus I love the escape.”

“You sound like Tilly.”

“It’s why we became fast friends.” She grins as she lowers herself onto the creaky mattress, which brings me to my next thought…

“Um, Scarlett?”

“Yes.” She wrings her hands together, likely knowing what my next question will be before I even ask it. I’ve had a full tour of the place, so unless I’m blind—something that’s entirely possible seeing as I’m not wearing my glasses—there’s only one bed.

“Do you have a basement? Or some attic that you plan on stuffing me into?” I reach a hand behind my head and rub at the back of my neck while I wait for her reply.

“No.” Scarlett’s palms shoot up to cover her face.

“Okay? Well, where am I sleeping?” My gaze bounces around the room as if some hidden door will suddenly appear out of nowhere.

“Honestly, I don’t sleep well. I’m up and down all night. You can have the bed. That way, you’ll get some privacy, and I can take the couch. I pass out reading there most nights anyway.”

I glance between the two potential options, before closing the distance and plopping my ass down on the couch. “It’s fine. I’ll sleep here,” I tell her. It might be old, but it’s comfy, probably softer than that springy mattress. Then again, maybe she prefers the couch for that exact reason. I’m struggling to figure out what’s the right thing to do here. It’s not a situation I’ve ever found myself in before.

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