Page 123 of That Rush

“It is now.”

Her mouth curves. “Were you waiting to see how the eggs turned out?”

I lean down and kiss her. It stays brief because Josie is climbing into the chair across from us, though Paige catches my shirt and pulls me back for one more before letting go.

“No kissing during breakfast,” Josie says.

“You said after dinner last time,” Paige says.

“Breakfast needs a rule too.”

“Put it in writing,” I tell her.

She takes a bite of toast. “I’m eating.”

We finish breakfast with Josie explaining the plot of her book so thoroughly that reading it feels unnecessary. Paige asks two questions, corrects one impossible bit of dragon anatomy, and steals every strawberry from my plate.

Her books still cover every available surface, one mug sits in the drying rack, and her hammock hangs beyond the porch doors. Our cooler and Josie’s purple backpack are temporary intrusions in a space that remains completely hers.

An hour later, Josie carries her backpack to the truck while I load the cooler. Paige follows me onto the porch with a paperback held against her chest.

“Since you’ve spent two weeks insulting my fictional hero’s work ethic, I have another recommendation.”

She hands me the book. The cover shows a man in a dark suit standing in front of a hotel.

“Does this one have a job?” I ask.

“He owns the hotel.”

“Inherited?”

“Built it.”

I scan the back cover. “Already more promising.”

“He also understands instructions.”

My eyes lift to hers. “You marked another chapter?”

“You’ll have to read it properly and find out.” She taps the cover. “This one is my favorite, so your usual complaints will require better research.”

I tuck the book beneath my arm and draw her close with my free hand. “I’m always thorough.”

A slow smile touches Paige’s mouth, one that’s just for me. “That is exactly why I’m recommending it.”

By Tuesday afternoon, the old office has a new roof vent, three missing floorboards, and an electrician’s warning that the old wiring could have burned the place down.

I consider that progress.

Axel steps through the open doorway, two bottles of water in hand, and surveys the section of flooring I removed.

“Taking your personality out on the floorboards, I see.”

“The boards were rotted underneath.”

“I was referring to your personality.”

I take the water he offers and set it on the floor beside the built-in desk. “The damage came from the window leaking. I replaced the flashing this morning.”