Nodding, I jot the date down in my calendar with the right color-coded pen, ignoring the taunting smirk on his lips as I do. For someone who runs his own business, he seems sincerely opposed to any type of organization. “Sounds good to me. I can pick you up at your house at two?”
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. “You can meet me at my house, but we’re taking my truck.”
“What? Absolutely not. My car is brand-new, and the heating is top-notch.”
“And?” he asks, pocketing his phone. “Weather says there’s a chance of heavy snow this weekend. It’s nothing we haven’t been through before, but my truck’s equipped with tires for it, so it’ll be safer if we take mine.”
Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m pretty sure you’d argue with me no matter what it was we were figuring out. My car has top-of-the-line safety features and is more than equipped to handle the snow. If it’s some kind of masculinity thing that you’re trying to prove, you know it won’t kill you to let a woman drive you around.”
This time, he laughs, shaking his head. “You’re so fucking stubborn, you know that?”
“And you’re not? I’m pretty sure you’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”
“Look, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you Friday. My house. Two o’clock.” He starts toward the door, and I call out, stopping him.
“At least take care of the hotel, okay? It’ll be one less thing for me to worry about. And two rooms, please.”
“Will do, Snowflake.”
This is undoubtedly going to be the longest three weeks of my life.
jackson
Snowed in with Satan. **Santa
Friday rolled around quicker than I anticipated with how busy I’ve been trying to finish this project up before the holidays. I spent most of the week at my new build, avoiding my family like the plague.
Don’t get me wrong, my brothers are my best friends, and my parents and I are unusually close-knit. And Josie… Well, she’s just Josie. My ball of chaos baby sister.
We usually talk a few times a week, and there’s a steady group text between all of us that never seems to let up.
But there’s a reason that I’ve been avoiding them at all costs.
Emma Worthington.
After the day at the general store… and the night spent in jail, gossip spread through the entire town like wildfire. Which meant my phone was already blown up with texts and calls from my family before I even turned it back on once I was out.
I broke the news to my parents that we’d be having our annual party together with Emma’s family, and they were not happy about it, but they realized there’s no other choice, so they said whatever has to happen, we’ll handle it. That’s kind of just who my parents are.
They’ll take anything and make the best of it. Just the way they did when this damn feud started in the first place. They took bad eggs and made eggnog. What’s that saying again… when life gives you whatever?
So that’s not why I’m avoiding them now. It’s the fact that my mother likes to hover, and as much as I love her, I can’t deal with all of her invasive questions while I’m also dealing with planning this stupid party. Not to mention, my brothers are having a fucking field day with the fact that I’m stuck working with Emma Worthington. And while I don’t disagree with all of their shit-talking about the Worthingtons, I just don’t have the time to listen to it. Because it won’t help this party planning get done any faster.
The doorbell rings as I’m throwing clothes into my overnight bag, signaling Emma’s arrival. Pausing, I walk to the front door and swing it open, revealing Emma on my doorstep.
She’s got on a mouthwateringly tight pair of dark jeans paired with a formfitting cream sweater that I’m betting is cashmere and a matching beanie with a fluffy pom-pom on top.
She looks fucking cute.
And cute has never really been my thing, but then again, neither is sleeping with the enemy, yet here we are.
“Hi,” she says, hoisting her designer bag, which seems packed to the seams, higher on her shoulder. I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t toppled over from the weight of it.
Grinning, I reach out and take the bag, shockingly without any protest from her. “Hey. Come on in.”
She steps over the threshold, and both Marley and Mo barrel toward her, each of them competing for her attention and all the head scratches they can get.
“Marley, Mo, chill out for a second and let her get through the door,” I say sternly, shutting the front door and setting her bag on the floor. “You two rug rats act like you haven’t been taught any manners.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” she says, petting each of their heads gently, a giggle escaping when Marley licks her nose. “Gosh, you’re both so cute. I can’t even handle it.”
Menaces. Both of them.
I drag my hand through my hair while they soak in all of her attention. “Let me grab my bag, and we can leave. Hopefully, we can make it into the city before dark.”
She nods, not lifting her gaze from the dogs.
Jogging back to my room, I grab my bag and finish throwing everything I’ll need in it for the next two days.
When I walk back into the living room, she’s sitting on my couch, both dogs in her lap like they’re tiny puppies and not the actual moose that they are.
Chuckling, I shake my head. “They’ve got you wrapped around their little paws. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s nice. I wasn’t allowed to have any animals growing up, and now that I, uh… I live alone, I haven’t really ever considered getting a pet. Maybe I should.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Maybe you should. Ready to go?”
She nods, giving them both one last pet and a kiss on their heads, then untangles herself from the couch and moves toward the front door to grab her bag.
I stop her just as she’s about to grab it. “I got it.”
Turning toward me, she looks surprised. “I thought you weren’t a gentleman, Jackson Pearce?”
“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.”
She hums as she opens the front door and steps outside. I follow behind her with both of our bags slung over my shoulder but pause as she walks toward her car.
“Fuck no, Emma. I told you we’re taking my truck.”
Her hands fly to her hips as she lifts a brow, a clear challenge. “I’m not arguing with you about this. We’re taking my car, end of story.”
Bypassing her completely, I walk over to my truck, wrench the door open, and put the bags on the floor of the cab, then turn it on and crank up the heat.
“Jackson, seriously. Do you like pissing me off?” she cries just as the first snow flurry begins to fall.
I hadn’t noticed how much the temperature had dropped until now, the cold seeping through my jacket and causing my skin to prickle.
“Emma, get in the truck, or I will throw you over my fucking shoulder.”
I know that’s probably only going to make her more defiant, but fuck, it’s freezing, and there is no goddamn way that I am getting in that tin can when a snowstorm is on the way. News says it shouldn’t be that bad, but I’m not taking any chances.