“Absolutely not,” I cut her off.
“I wanted to stay here because of my friends—”
Folding my arms across my chest, I snark, “I thought it was to get to know your father’s side of the family.”
She mirrors my stance. “I’ve been stuck withyou. I need a break.”
“Then take it. In New York.”
“Nope.” The little brat pops the p, which annoys and amuses me. “Nobody knows I’m staying here,” she argues. “Ivy could drive me there, and I’ll keep telling them I’m staying at a hotel while the guardianship is finalized.”
“Bluegrass county is a small place with a big mouth,” I say. “You sneeze in Bardstown, and someone in Louisville offers you a tissue.”
Ivy lets out the delicate snort and looks up from her screen. “That was almost poetic, Thorne.”
“I have my moments.”
“Very few of them,” she retorts, but there’s a hint of a smile playing at her lips.
“Please,” Madison implores. “I’m bored. I want to see my friends. They probably think I’ve disappeared off the face of the earth.”
"That's exactly what they need to think for now," I say firmly. "Until we figure out how to spin this, the last thing we need is some media frenzy over my father's illegitimate daughter staying with me before I've even told my mother.”
"Wow, thanks for the reminder," Madison says, her voice dripping with teenage sarcasm. "I almost forgot I was the family embarrassment."
Ignoring her, I continue, more to myself than her. “I’ve been trying to reach her. But she's not answering my calls.” I've left three voicemails and sent twice as many texts. Nothing.
"Maybe she doesn't want to talk to you," Madison retorts.
"Maybe," I agree, taking a long drink of coffee. "But that doesn't change the fact that this conversation needs to comefrom me. She deserves to hear about you directly, not discover you're living under her son’s roof through the grapevine because someone sees you getting out of one of my cars.”
“Then go to her house. My three months are ticking away.” Madison persists. Then she glances at Ivy. “Unless you changed your mind.”
Ivy sighs. “Madison—”
“Don’t tell me I can make new friends in New York,” Madison whines. “I’ve lost my mom, and now I have to leave behind everything because their dad killed her.”
I’m tempted to tell her he crashed because her mom was sucking his dick, but even I have my limits. Instead, I say, “Oh, now he’s my father, not yours.”
Madison rolls her eyes. “Sorry if my daddy issues are interrupting your brooding schedule,” she quips, and I choke on a laugh.
“Kid, we both have daddy issues. He gifted us all with two things: issues and his blue eyes.” I take a sip of my coffee and point outside with my cup. “Do you want to stay inside and have a pity party or go out?”
Ivy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Out where? You just said—”
“Not to town. The property. The ATVs.”
Madison’s perpetual scowl is momentarily replaced by interest. “ATVs? Like, four-wheelers?”
“The rain’s let up enough,” I continue, not sure why I’m even suggesting this. Maybe to end the endless complaining. “The trails will be muddy as hell, but that just means it’s more challenging.”
Ivy’s brow furrows, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why? Are you afraid of a little mud?” I challenge, directing the comment at her rather than Madison. The last thing I need is the teenager thinking I’m trying to bond with her.
Ivy narrows her eyes. “I may have grown up in New York, but I'm a Kentuckian first.”
“Prove it,” I challenge.
