A Festive Feud: A Holiday Romantic Comedy(33)

With Christmas decorations.

My tree is massive, taking up the whole far corner of my living room. It’s decorated in traditional red and green with pops of gold and white throughout, with a vintage red Christmas train wrapped around its base and a custom-made star at the top. The fireplace mantel is covered with a fir garland, mismatched hand-knitted stockings, and tons of nutcrackers I’ve collected over the years. My windows are all covered with twinkle lights, my couch is covered in festive reindeer pillows, and my entry table displays my beloved Christmas village, complete with little villager figurines that I’ve collected throughout the years. It’s truly my most prized possession.

And that’s just my living room.

Almost every single surface of my house has some type of decoration on it, and I love it. It feels like home. My safe place to land.

“Yes, well, you never asked,” I retort, hiding my smile behind the rim of my wineglass as I take a sip. “So, are we having surprise visits now?”

We walk to the kitchen. He sets down the six-pack of beer and the paper bag and shrugs, “Guess I kind of missed you insulting me.”

“Guess I kind of missed insulting you.”

His eyes dance with amusement. “Well, good thing I’m here, then. Figured I’d come by and make you watch a Christmas movie with me. Unless you’ve got some other important plans?”

I glance down at my attire, a pair of old sweatpants with little Rudolphs on them and an old baggy T-shirt from high school. My hair is practically a rat’s nest, and I have zero makeup on.

“Oh, I was just heading out for drinks. Can’t you tell by this outfit?” I laugh. “I look like I just crawled out of bed.”

“You look sexy in anything,” he says, stepping closer and taking the wineglass out of my hand, then carefully setting it onto the island beside us. “And I fucking missed you, Emma.”

My heart pounds in my chest as I nod. “I missed you too.”

Jackson slides his hands along my jaw, cradling it as he lowers his lips to mine, kissing me as if he hasn’t seen me in days when it’s only been twenty-four hours.

Part of me wants to tell him that we should stop, that we should quit while we still can, that this was just a weekend fling. But an even bigger part of me knows that it would be pointless because my heart is already involved.

He pulls back slightly, ghosting his thumb along my jaw as he stares into my eyes. It feels… overwhelming and amazing to have a man look at you the way that Jackson is looking at me right now. But also terrifying because I have no idea what the future holds for us.

Our families have hated each other since before we were born, and I just don’t think it’s possible for them to even be civil, let alone get along.

“So, movies?” I say, clearing my throat. “Do I get to pick?”

“Yep.”

Jackson grabs a beer, and I refill my wine before we walk back to the living room and take a seat on the plush couch.

“Okay, what about Elf?” he says, grabbing the remote and pulling me toward him until I’m partially on top of him, tucked against his side.

He does it naturally, without hesitation, and it makes my heart race.

Being with Jackson feels… like something that I should’ve always done.

It feels right.

“A classic, for sure,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

A second later, Elf appears on the screen, and I burrow into Jackson’s side, and we spend the next few hours watching a few of the classics I never got to see growing up.

It’s late, well after 2:00 a.m., if I had to guess, when Jackson stretches beneath me, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. I dozed off sometime during the third movie, and now I’m entirely too comfortable to move.

“I need to go.”

His words are whispered against my ear, and I moan sleepily. “You could… stay?”

“As much as I want to, if I do, someone’s going to see Pearce Builders parked outside your house in the morning, and the entire town will know before noon.”

As much as I don’t want him to go, he’s right. It’s enough that the entire town is gossiping about the two of us spending time together to plan the party. Imagine if they knew what was actually happening.

“Okay, okay.” I groan as I lift myself off him, but he stops me, grabbing my chin between his fingers. Only then do I shake off the grogginess of sleep and open my eyes to stare into his warm, whiskey irises.

“Trust me, Emma, there is nothing more that I want than to wake up with you in my arms. It’s all I fucking want. I just don’t want to make any more gossip than there already is. To do anything that will stress you more. You can’t blink in this town without everyone knowing, you know that,” he says, brushing my hair back out of my face.

I nod. “I know. I understand.”

“But I’ve been thinking about this since we were in the city…” he starts, stopping to brush his finger along my bottom lip. “I don’t… want this to stop. Seeing you. Kissing you. Being with you.”

“I don’t want that either,” I say honestly. I wasn’t sure how he felt about whatever this is between us, but relief floods my chest at his admission. It’s nice to know that he feels the same way.

“Let’s take it one day at a time? We have this party—let’s just get through that, and then we can focus on what’s between us. In the meantime, we’ll keep things quiet. We’ll figure it out, Emma,” he says confidently, and I nod in agreement.