Page 30 of Three Months Yesterday

It’s none of my business how she runs the inn or what she does with her life, but I know the dangers of running yourself into the ground, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Especially not someone as giving as Madison.

“You sound like my brothers.” She laughs.

While the sound brightens everything around me, her words have the opposite effect. “Please don’t compare me to your brothers,” I mumble.

It’s not that I don’t think her brothers are great guys, but I can’t stand the idea of Madison seeing me in the same light.

I can’t be the only one feeling this attraction between us.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I rush to say, not ready to make my thoughts a reality. “I just don’t want to see you get burned-out. I know how hard that can be.”

“I’m working on getting some additional staff.” Madison glances down at the watch on her wrist. “I actually have an interview in a little over an hour.”

“Crap. I’m holding you up from your run. We can talk about this later.” I take a few steps back, trying to get out of her way, but she reaches for my arm, holding me in place.

“It’s fine.” She releases me almost as quickly as she stopped me, before taking a few steps away herself. “The door’s unlocked. Go check it out, you can’t miss it. We can talk more later.” Madison doesn’t wait for me to respond before she’s jogging off in the direction she takes every morning.

I’d like to say I don’t watch her as she goes, but that would be a lie. It’d be an even bigger lie to say my eyes don’t stray down to her round ass, perfectly outlined in the dark leggings she wears.

It’s not until she disappears from sight that I shake myself from my inappropriate thoughts, ones where I imagine Madison’s ass bare in front of me as I drive into her from behind.

Giving myself a mental slap, I turn away from where she went and move toward the house. Thinking about the woman who’s ten years younger than me and living next door like that when I won’t—and can’t—do anything about it isn’t helpful to anyone.

Stepping up to the front door, I remember her words about the front door being unlocked and my thoughts move from passion and attraction to fear and anger.

It doesn’t matter how small of a town she lives in or how safe she might feel, leaving the door unlocked is never okay. There are messed-up people everywhere in the world, and it’d be a travesty if something happened to her because of a silly mistake like leaving the door unlocked.

But the moment I walk inside, I’m struck by how beautiful the place is. Madison and her family didn’t boast enough about the amazing job she did renovating this place. I knew she was capable with how the cottage looks, but this house was a much bigger project and could have easily been overwhelming—and maybe it was.

Madison found the perfect way to blend modern touches with all the historic character of the house. The entry is bright with colors and large windows but the crown molding and dark hardwood floors give the place a warm feeling. And while she opened up the space by using archways, it isn’t the open concept typically found in newer homes.

I want to move in every direction—up the stairs to my left, straight down the hall to the kitchen at the back of the house, and into the front room to my right. But the sight of the piano is what makes the decision for me.

It’s a work of art all on its own. I’m not an expert on pianos—I know what I like and stick with it—but the idea of playing on an instrument with so much history attached to it pulls at something inside me.

I can’t explain it, but it’s like Madison’s love of history is rubbing off on me.

A few steps into the room and I’m able to run my fingers over the keys. It’s second nature for me to sit on the bench and start playing. The sounds that follow are clear and intimate. The perfect combination for me, and exactly what I’m looking for.

I don’t know how long I sit there getting lost in the music, but it’s a feeling I haven’t had in so long. My ringing phone might piss me off if it wasn’t the person I needed to talk to most.

As long as Madison is truly okay with me invading her space, I have one piece of the puzzle figured out. But I’ll still need Aaron’s help to get me my banjo and fiddle.

Ian probably isn’t going to be too happy about this, but now that I’ve felt the pull and joy again, I don’t want to lose it. This is what I’ve been missing, and to know I can get it back changes everything.

The sound of a trailer pulling up the drive sends me sprinting through the house. This is a day I’ve been waiting for since I was ten years old. No matter how much I argued I was responsible enough to handle it, my parents always said no.

The truth is, they fought me tooth and nail this time too, but it wasn’t really their choice considering I didn’t buy them for the inn and they signed over the use of the original house and barn to me.

They didn’t get a say in it this time.

I wanted horses, and I’m finally getting some.

Selfishly, I’m hoping they’ll see first-hand how many amazing opportunities can open up for the inn if we have horses available to guests. I know there’s a lot of liability and safety concerns to having them, but I think the value far outweighs the risks. I just need to prove that to my parents, and proving them wrong about one aspect will hopefully help me prove them wrong in others.

“Someone’s going to hurt themselves if they keep hurtling around the place like that,” Beckett calls from his front porch as I jump down the last few steps of mine.