The guesthouse had been a project I designed years ago, meant for out-of-town clients who wanted to ‘experience Wisteria Creek’ while they decided on what they wanted to build. No one had ever actually stayed there long term. Certainly not Madison Cole, of all people.
The crunch of gravel drew my attention. Olive was toddling across the yard in bright pink rain boots that were two sizes too big, her Bunny tucked under one arm. Madison followed behind, hair pulled up in a bun, still swimming in the T-shirt like it was a dress.
Olive stopped halfway, spotted me at the window, raised her little hand, and waved at me.
And just like that, my resolve cracked.
Madison caught up to her, shooting me the same look she used to when I stole the last soda out of Blair’s fridge at sixteen. Equal parts annoyance and challenge.
“Don’t get used to this,” I muttered to myself, draining my coffee.
Because if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was this: Madison Cole was a storm all her own, and I had a feeling surviving with her under my roof might be harder than fixing the whole damn town.
Chapter 7
Madison
The smell of coffee drifted across the yard, and my stomach growled like it had no shame.
I hadn’t exactly slept well. The storm still echoed in my ears, and every creak of Seth’s guesthouse had reminded me I wasn’t home. Olive, of course, had crashed the second her Bunny was tucked under her chin, blissfully unaware of my racing thoughts.
Now she was wide awake, tugging at my hand in those ridiculous rain boots she refused to take off.
“Mommy, can we go see Mr. Seth?” she asked, her voice high and eager.
Mr. Seth. I almost tripped over the word.
It had been years since I’d seen him regularly, but the memories were sharp, him smirking at me across Blair’s kitchen table, showing off the newest ‘big plans’ he had, making me feel like I’d never catch up. He’d always been too confident, too cocky, and now he was… well, richer, more successful, and apparently, the kind of man who had a spare house just sitting empty on his land.
“Let’s not bother him first thing in the morning,” I muttered, though Olive was already tugging me across the yard.
And there he was, standing at the kitchen window of his big, sleek house, a coffee mug in hand like he’d been waiting for us. The button-down and slacks were crisp, but the golden tan on his skin gave away the hours he spent outdoors. His eyes landed on Olive, and I saw his whole expression shift, soften. For me, though, his jaw tightened. Typical.
“Morning,” I called when we got close enough, trying to sound casual.
Olive, of course, betrayed me. She let go of my hand and marched right up to his porch steps like she belonged there. “Do you have pancakes?”
Heat flushed my cheeks. “Olive.”
Seth’s lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh. “No pancakes,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “But I’ve got eggs. Maybe even cereal if you’re lucky.”
Olive beamed like he’d offered her the moon. “Can we, Mommy? Please?”
I rubbed my temples. “We don’t need to invade Seth’s morning. We’ll eat at the guesthouse.”
But Olive had already slipped past him into the house, Bunny in tow.
Seth shot me a look, one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly smug way. “Guess you’re stuck now, sweetheart.”
I stood there on the steps, torn between marching in after my daughter or swallowing my pride and accepting the fact that Seth wasn’t going to make this easy.
Maybe Blair thought this arrangement was practical. But standing in the doorway of Seth Cunningham’s perfect kitchen, I couldn’t help thinking it was a disaster waiting to happen.
And judging by the smirk still tugging at his mouth, Seth knew it too.
Chapter 8
Seth
