Page 63 of The Best Kind of Bad

She watches me with those beautiful brown eyes. “And it should give you and Sienna more time.”

Whether it’s June or August, our lives would still be turned upside down. But she’s right, three months is so much better than a few weeks. It’s a gift. And I’m grateful. “Does that mean you’ll be sticking around, too?”

She pushes off the stool and circles around the counter, leaning next to me. “Through the summer.”

I put down the whisk and pull her into my chest. “That makes me really happy.”

She grins, tucking her head under my jaw. “Me too.”

My hands skate across her back, and her tummy softens against my hips.

“What about fucking Jerry Lind?” I disentangle our limbs, turning back to breakfast.

“He’ll just have to wait like everybody else.” She hands me slices of bread. “I’m going to talk to Carl again, figure out what we’d need to do to set up a proper auction, or whatever it is people do. I’m still undecided if I’m selling or renting.”

I pull back, looking at her.

She meets my gaze, giving me an apologetic look. “I’m really not sure if I’m renting or selling.” She pauses. “But if I rent the land, I want you to be the farm manager.”

“If you wanted to explore other options, I’d understand, Marnie.”

“No. I want it to be you. Gus named you manager for a reason. There’s no need to look anywhere else.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak around the lump of emotion forming in my throat.

There’s a rustle at the door and Sienna steps in. “Who washed that dog? Did you know he was supposed to be brown?” She freezes mid-step. “Oh. Good morning.” She drags the greeting out, gaze bopping between us.

Marnie blushes, tugging at the hem of my sweater. “I’m just going to… yeah.”

We both watch her scuttle back up the stairs.

Sienna comes closer. “Sorry, didn’t mean to barge in like that.”

There’s a mischievous glint to her eyes that says she’s not sorry in the least.

I flip a few pieces of toast on the skillet. “You don’t have to apologize. This is your home. You have a right to come and go. You hungry?”

“Always.” She slides onto the stool and peers up the stairs. “I’m kind of in shock, actually.”

I stand at the stove, prodding at the toast with a spatula. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“You actually had a woman spend the night.”

I wince. “Yeah, you know I normally wouldn’t do that.”

“I know you wouldn’t. That’s why I’m surprised.” She tilts her head. “It’s okay, you know. I’m not a little kid and I know you’ve got a life to live. You don’t have to hide your dates away from me.”

I shrug. “I didn’t want you to have an endless parade of strangers coming in and out of your home.”

She laughs. “An endless parade? The ego on you. Gigantic, Dusty. Mammoth.”

I chuckle, flipping a few pieces of French toast on a plate for her.

She meets my gaze. Her eyes are deep blue, like my mom’s. “So what’s different about this time?”

“That’s an excellent question.” I glance upstairs, as though I can see Marnie through the ceiling. “I don’t have an answer. Yet.”

41.

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