Page 29 of Every Single Wildflower
She nods. “I know.” She steps to me again. “Thanks, Mads.”
I press a quick kiss to her hair as mom bounds down the stairs.
“I’m off.” She clasps her favorite silver necklace around her neck.
“I fixed the fire alarm, and your AC filter is changed as well,” I tell her.
“You’re going to make some woman a fine handy man one day.” She pushes up on the toes of her sneakers and plants a kiss on my cheek. “How’s Ivy? The boys? I talked to Ruthie yesterday. She said Emmett is doing better.”
“They’re fine. Taking it one day at a time.”
She pats my shoulder. “Be safe. Love you both.”
She rushes out, just as Trace bellows from upstairs. “Mom! Hurry! There’s something weird under my toodle!”
A laugh barks from my chest as Laiken groans. “God had to give me a boy, didn’t he?”
With my laugh still shaking my shoulders, I leave my sister to deal with the anatomy questions and climb in my truck.
Walking into the cabin, I go straight to the pantry and grab a can of ravioli. As a man, I don’t need much. Food, sleep, a release every now and then, and this ranch. I’m simple. Which is why I use the handheld can opener to pop off the top and grab a spoon from the drawer to begin eating my dinner.
I dip into the can, about to wrap my lips around the square noodle of cheese when I hear a gasp from behind me.
I spin around to see Ivy at the threshold of the kitchen. Her hair that was down earlier is tied into a knot on top of her head, her legs bare beneath some cotton shorts. A sorry excuse for a tank top is covering her torso. She’s barefoot, her white painted toenails the brightest thing in this cabin apart from her green eyes.
“Maddox. That’s disgusting.”
“What?” I look down at the spoon. “It’s Chef Boyardee.”
“It’s cold.” She grimaces.
“And?” I lift a brow while purposely keeping eye contact as I place the spoonful in my mouth.
“I don’t understand men,” she scoffs. “Give me that.”
With one swift move she plucks it from my hand and drops it in the trashcan next to the fridge. “I’ll cook something.”
Cook something? With what? I haven’t been to the store in two weeks.
She reaches for the fridge, and opens it, revealing fully stocked shelves. I frown and she notices.
“I went to the store. If I’m going to be stuck here for the next couple of weeks, I’d rather not starve.”
“Thanks?” It comes out as a question.
I know she would rather be anywhere else. She hates me, and I have no one to blame but myself. But even though she despises me with every fiber of her being, here she is about to cook me dinner. Because Ivy Mayson is as good as fucking gold.
Chapter twenty-three
Maddox
Five years ago
After spending all day mending the fence between the Mayson Ranch and the Double B Ranch, I'm exhausted. Even after a grueling day, I was conned into spending an unreasonable number of hours at poker night in the bunk house until Clyde took all of my fucking money. It’s almost one in the morning and the only thing calling my name is my bed. I toss my phone down on my dresser, about to flip off the light when a streak of blonde hair flashes past my bedroom window. There’s only one blonde haired beauty that would be roaming around this time of night. Peering out the glass, I see Ivy practicallysprinting across the pasture to the tank. I curse under my breath when I spot the vodka bottle hanging from her fingers.
My legs are carrying me across the room in less than a second, my jeans zipped, and a t-shirt over my head next. I’ve learned that when Ivy drinks, she’s usually upset. Which isn’t often, and I’m not sure what shit my brother has pulled this time.
Five minutes later I’ve made it down to the tank in the pasture behind the barns. Ivy stands at the edge in nothing but her underwear and bra. I avert my eyes, trying not to notice the way the cheeks of her ass peek out from beneath the blue lace material.
