“Because it makes me stand out.”
“That’s a good thing. Why do you want to be the same as everyone else?”
“I’m not comfortable when people stare at me.” She touches her hair self-consciously. “I’ve dyed it in the past, but it doesn’t always take well.”
“Your sister doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Brielle likes being the center of attention. You must have seen her on TikTok. She uses her coloring as a tool to get noticed. She claims it helps her get laid, too. But it doesn’t happen like that for me. It only ever puts men off.” She scratches at a mark on her jeans.
“Are you talking about your ex?”
“I’m talking about all men. If they are interested, it’s only because they see me as a novelty.”
I frown. Her ex calling her vanilla really got to her.
She breathes in, holds it, then lets it out slowly. “Maybe we should focus on business. That’s why we’re here, right?”
This adventure feels anything but business. Maddie’s sitting here in her tight jeans and thick socks, with herTalk Dirt to MeT-shirt, licking her fingers free of butter and ketchup, and all I can think about is taking her to bed and kissing her all over.
But she’s right. She’s still a Rutherford. Nothing’s changed.
“Sure,” I say, putting my empty plate on the table. “I might make myself a cup of coffee first though. You want a hot drink?”
“Oh. Yes, please. I’ll have a fruit tea. Just don’t put the oven or anything else on with the kettle or it’ll flip the fuse.”
I get up and put the kettle on. “You’re not a coffee drinker?”
“The smell makes me nauseous.” She clears her throat. “While I have a lingering migraine, I mean.”
I’d forgotten she had a headache and feel a twinge of guilt at teasing her when she’s not well. “I’m sorry. Can I get you some painkillers?”
“Um… I’ve taken some, thank you. It’s not too bad right now.”
I lean on the counter as I wait for the kettle to boil. “Do you always get them at the same time of your cycle? I overheard Mum telling Dad once that migraines were like the trumpet blare announcing the arrival of her period.”
“Yes… they’re a common symptom of Premenstrual Syndrome.” Her gaze lifts to mine, then lowers again.
Her period must be due soon then. I don’t want to make her headache worse, so instead of coffee I put a teabag in a mug for me, and a fruit tea one in hers. Once the kettle boils, I pour water over the teabags, add a splash of milk to mine, and bring them over to the sofa, along with a bar of chocolate.
“Thank you.” She takes her mug.
I lower back onto the sofa, stretch my legs, and prop my feet on the little table, then start breaking the chocolate into pieces. Maddie draws her legs toward her and curls up, facing me. When I open the wrapper, we both take a piece of chocolate. I pop mine in my mouth, and she does the same.
“I like my chocolate how I like my men,” she says.
“Rich and dark?”
“Sweet and in very small amounts.”
I give a short laugh and take another piece.
“So…” she says after a while, “let’s talk about AI.”
“Do we have to?”
“We do, because it is the future, whether we like it or not. As you said, if we don’t adapt, we’ll get left behind. The AI model predicts pasture growth, optimizes fertilizer timing, and helps us move stock before overgrazing happens. It’s not reacting to the land; it’s anticipating it.”
I shift on the sofa. “I get that. I just don’t like automating something that many farmers know instinctively.”
