Chapter 9
Madison
Olive had crumbs on her cheek, a half-empty plate of eggs in front of her, and a smile so wide it almost erased the sting of being here. Almost.
I tore a corner off her toast when she wasn’t looking, trying to ignore the man leaning casually against the counter like he had all the time in the world.
Seth Cunningham, in sweatpants and bare feet, flipping eggs like he wasn’t the same smug, insufferable boy who used to mock me for tripping over my shoelaces at Blair’s house.
And now I was staying in his guesthouse.
God, life had a sick sense of humor.
“This doesn’t mean we’re moving in,” I muttered, mostly to myself, but his head tilted like he’d heard every word.
“You keep saying that,” he said smoothly, setting his mug down. “Almost like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.”
I glared at him. “You don’t know me.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up. “Sure, I do. You still hate when someone’s right.”
Before I could snap back, Olive piped up, swinging her legs beneath the stool. “Can we see the guesthouse now?”
Seth’s gaze flicked to her, softer than I’d ever seen it. It was disarming, almost dangerous, the way he bent down slightly to meet her eyes. “Yeah, kiddo. I’ll give you the grand tour after breakfast.”
Olive clapped, Bunny tumbling onto the counter with a soft thud.
I busied myself wiping crumbs into my palm, needing something to do. I didn’t like the way he was looking at her. That was the problem. It wasn’t bad at all. It was… good. Too good. And Olive didn’t need to like him. She didn’t need another person to cling to who might not stay.
I cleared my throat. “Rules,” I said firmly, grabbing Olive’s juice cup. “If we’re here, we’re not in your way. We’ll keep to ourselves.”
“Rules?” Seth repeated, amusement thick in his voice.
“Yes. You live your life, we live ours. Separate.”
He leaned forward, forearms resting on the counter, infuriatingly at ease. “You do realize the guesthouse is on my property, right? Not across town. Not in another state. You can’t exactly pretend I don’t exist.”
“I’ve been doing it for years,” I shot back, a little too sharply.
For a second, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then, he smiled, causing my eyes to roll.
“This is going to be fun.”
I wanted to tell him no, it wasn’t. That it was going to be a disaster. That I was only here because the storm had left me with no other option. But Olive’s laugh, clear and sweet, echoed in the kitchen as she offered Bunny a bite of eggs.
And deep down, I already knew the truth.
Disaster or not, we were here.