the scott estate was unusually quiet after the great duck debacle. bessie had declared she needed a "moment of peace" and disappeared into her sitting room with a strong cup of tea and what she dramatically referred to as "restorative reading" (probably a gossip column). theo had retreated to clean his mud-stained pride, and harriet was somewhere “practicing her embroidery,” which mayven strongly suspected was code for napping in the library.
this left mayven with one pressing problem: guy thwarpe had not left.
"don't you have anywhere else to be?" she asked, crossing her arms as she found him lounging in the garden for the third time that day.
"no," he said simply, plucking a blade of grass and examining it like it held the secrets of the universe. "but thank you for asking."
"you’re insufferable."
"and yet," he said, not even bothering to look up, "here i am."
mayven groaned. "what do you want?"
"to be entertained."
"then go bother theo."
"theo doesn’t appreciate me," guy said, dramatically pressing a hand to his heart. "he’s always so busy brooding. i’m much more fun."
"fun," mayven repeated, unimpressed. "you nearly got mauled by ducks this morning. is that your idea of fun?"
"depends on the duck," he said with a smirk.
mayven gave up. arguing with him was like trying to convince the sun not to shine—pointless, exhausting, and likely to end with her regretting her life choices.
"fine," she said, sitting down on the bench across from him. "let’s hear it. what’s your grand plan for entertainment?"
guy’s eyes lit up in a way that immediately made her regret asking.
"i propose a wager," he said.
"absolutely not," she said, standing again.
"oh, come on," he said, grabbing her wrist with just enough pressure to make her pause. "you haven’t even heard it yet."
"your ideas are always terrible," she said, glaring down at him.
"that’s what makes them interesting," he said, grinning up at her. "sit."
with a sigh that could have powered a windmill, she sat. "fine. what’s the wager?"
"simple," he said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "you think i’m useless."
"i know you’re useless," she corrected.
"then prove it," he said, his grin widening. "pick something—anything—you don’t think i can do, and i’ll do it."
mayven raised an eyebrow. "anything?"
"anything," he said confidently.
she narrowed her eyes, considering her options. "and what do i get if you fail?"
"what do you want?" he asked, his tone suddenly more serious.
"for you to leave me alone for a week," she said without hesitation.
he feigned hurt, clutching his chest. "a whole week? i’m not sure i’d survive."
"deal or no deal?"
"deal," he said, extending a hand.
mayven shook it, already plotting his downfall.
---
an hour later, guy was standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at an alarming assortment of ingredients while the cook looked on with barely concealed skepticism.
"you want me to make what?" guy asked, holding up a jar of something pickled and very questionable.
"a cake," mayven said sweetly from the doorway. "since you’re so confident, it should be easy."
"easy," he repeated, eyeing the flour like it might attack him. "right."
"you did say anything," she reminded him, leaning against the doorframe.
"so i did," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves. "stand back, miss scott. you’re about to witness greatness."
what followed could only be described as culinary chaos. guy managed to spill flour not just on the counter but also on himself, the floor, and somehow the ceiling. eggs were cracked with such enthusiasm that one ended up in his hair, and the batter—if you could call it that—resembled more of a crime scene than anything edible.
"are you sure you don’t need help?" the cook asked, her voice laced with concern.
"i’ve got it," guy said, though his expression suggested otherwise.
mayven was practically crying with laughter by the time he managed to shove the monstrosity into the oven.
"you’re enjoying this," he accused, wiping his hands on a towel and smearing batter across his face in the process.
"immensely," she admitted.
"just wait," he said, pointing at her with a wooden spoon. "this cake is going to be legendary."
"oh, it already is," she said, smirking.
---
forty-five minutes later, the oven timer dinged, and guy pulled out what could only be described as a volcanic disaster. the cake had erupted, spilling over the sides of the pan and burning onto the oven racks.
"it’s… unique," mayven said, trying not to laugh as guy stared at it in horror.
"it’s terrible," he admitted, slumping against the counter.
"so you admit defeat?"
he looked at her, and for a moment, she thought he might argue. but then he sighed dramatically, throwing the towel over his shoulder.
"fine," he said. "you win."
mayven’s grin was triumphant. "i’ll enjoy my week of peace and quiet."
"don’t get too comfortable," he said, his smirk returning. "i’ll be back. better than ever."
"you’ll still be you," she said, but there was no malice in her voice.
"and yet," he said, stepping closer, "you keep letting me stick around."
her heart did that inconvenient little flip again, and for once, she didn’t mind.
"you’re impossible," she muttered, but the smile on her face betrayed her.
"and yet," he said, his voice softening, "here i am."
YOU ARE READING
𝙘𝙚𝙙𝙖𝙧
Romance"don't," she warned, though the word came out more like a plea than a command. "don't what?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "don't do that thing you do," she said, her heart pounding. "what thing?" he asked, leaning closer. "that thing...
