Molly might be tired of talking, but I wasn’t tired of listening. I found her fascinating, and I wanted to know more about her. And yes, I did think she was brave. I was also selfishly quite glad that she might be stuck at the Happy Endings Resort for a little while longer. That was another reason why I didn’t simply offer her the money to get the car fixed right away. Sure, I suspected her pride would prevent her from accepting a loan—and that turned out to be right—but mainly, I just didn’t want her to leave. There’d been plenty of people rent that tent spot over the course of the summer, and some of them had nice folks I’d enjoyed talking with from time to time, but none of them intrigued me the way Molly did.

“I think you’ll find that I’m not very interesting,” I said. I thought I led a pretty boring existence, really, and I’d had people tell me that I should get out more. My editor was one of those people, which I found ironic. Get out more, but hurry up and finish that damn manuscript? Make up your mind.

“Oh, come on. You’re a writer. That sounds pretty interesting to me.”

I gave a casual shrug and crunched on a slice of bacon. The food wasn’t bad, but not as good as the last time I’d dined here. “Well, I hope my books are interesting, anyway, but I don’t think I am.”

“Why don’t let me be the judge of that?” Molly leaned forward in the booth. “Talk to me. Where are you from? What do you write? And What brought you to Happy Endings?”

I loved her enthusiasm. She was even prettier when she was relaxed, like now, not stressed about the broken car or the asshole guy she ran away from.

“I’m from Virginia too, actually not that far from Chesapeake,” I said. “I guess it’s a small world.” Here she was, running to Chesapeake, and I lived about an hour from there... and yet our paths crossed in Endings, South Carolina. I didn’t much believe in fate or destiny or that kind of stuff, but maybe somehow, this was meant to be.

“Really? What town?”

“Williamsburg. Have you ever been there?” It was always popular with tourists.

“Yes, I love it there.” She spoke in an animated tone. “There’s so much history.”

“I suppose,” I said with a shrug. “When you live there, and you’ve seen it all before, I think it’s less exciting. It’s a nice enough town, though, and my family’s there. I’ve never felt any great urge to leave, at least not for good.”

“So why the Happy Endings Resort?” Molly asked. “Let me guess... you’re here for a writing retreat.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Was I that predictable? “Yes. I was struggling with my latest book, so my agent and editor both told me I needed a change of scenery. A friend of my editor suggested the Happy Endings.” I gave a slight roll of my eyes. “I think the whole ‘cabin by the lake’ thing has kind of become the stereotypical writers’ retreat.”

“Has it worked?” Molly asked. “Are you out of your slump?”

“I think so, yeah. For the most part. The words are flowing again.” I leaned back in the booth and crossed my arms in front of me. “It took a while, though. And sometimes I spend too much time watching people.”

“Not to mention rescuing the damsel in distress that pitched her tent door,” Molly said with a wry smile. “I’m sorry to take you from your work.”

I waved my hand in the air. “Don’t be. Lately, my best work comes at night, anyway,” I told her.

“Summer talked about you as if you were this mysterious recluse, but you seem to be close to Julie.”

“Sure, and I’m friendly with other people around the campground, too,” I said. “I don’t think I’m reclusive at all. I think people just get that idea in their head because I write mystery books.”

“Stereotypes, again,” Molly said.

I nodded. “Exactly.”

“Tell me about your books,” she urged. “I’m embarrassed to say I don’t think I’ve read any of them.”

“Don’t be. I’m not offended,” I assured her. “I write a series. My hero is named Jackson Wallis, and he’s a former police detective turned PI, and he investigates murders in Williamsburg.”

“Wow, that’s cool.” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t realize Williamsburg was such a hotbed for murder.”

I grinned. “It’s not, except in my books. The chamber of commerce probably hates me,” I said with a laugh.

“Probably.” Molly joined me in laughing, and I relished the sound of it. I made it my goal to make her laugh more.

“That sounds interesting. I’ll have to read one.”

“If you’re serious about that, and not just stroking my ego, I have a few copies with me at the cabin. I’ll give you the first one when we get back.”

“I am serious, and thank you,” she said. “We probably should get going, so we can see about the tow.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. The auto shop wasn’t open on the weekend, but I figured I could find Jason back at the campground and get his help. “Aren’t you going to ask about the job, though? You did say you needed one.”

“Job?” Molly gave me a puzzled look. “What are you talking about?”

“The sign in the doorway.” I pointed to it.

“What?” She whirled around so she could see the ‘Help Wanted’ sign that posted in the front door. “I didn’t even notice that. I can’t believe you did.”

I shrugged. “I’m a writer. I notice things.”

“And I’m glad you did!” Molly jumped up. “I’ll be right back.”

I laughed as I got up from the booth. “I’ll come with you. I have to take care of the check, anyway.”