When she turns to look at me and I see that her eyes are watery, I clear my throat and change the subject to something a little lighter. “So… how about those gingerbread houses?”
16
emma
Naughty… or nice?
I truly had no idea what I was going to be walking into when I agreed to go to Jackson’s parents’ for dinner. I guess maybe I expected there to be, at the very least, awkward, uncomfortable silence? Maybe even someone making offhand comments. It’s probably what would have happened if the tables were turned and we went to my house for dinner.
But that’s not at all how tonight has gone.
Sure, his brother made a snarky comment, but honestly, I probably deserved it with how my family and I behaved in the past.
“Snowflake, I’m sorry, but that looks terrible,” Jackson mutters teasingly from behind me. “I think I might have made a mistake asking you to be on my team.”
I whip around to face him, my lips twisted in a scowl. “That is very rude. It’s just… a work in progress. Trust the process, Jackson Pearce.”
Okay, maybe… I’m lying.
There is absolutely no saving this thing. The icing is sliding off the sides, the gumdrops are swallowed inside it somewhere, and the roof is completely crooked, but you know what? A for effort on my very first gingerbread house.
It doesn’t help that Jude, Jackson’s younger brother, has been making me laugh the entire time. I’m… distracted.
And speaking of, what has Jackson actually done to further this gingerbread house along? The answer is nothing. He’s been staring at my ass while I bent over the table, sneaking small touches for the past twenty minutes. The man is in construction, for fuck’s sake! He should be nailing this, but he’s clearly too busy checking me out instead. And… I don’t hate it.
“We’re gonna have to do a few practice runs for next year,” he teases. “Make sure we’re prepared to win.”
My heart flutters at the mention of next year, as if it’s already a done thing that I’m going to be a part of his family’s Christmas traditions.
True to his word, he’s hardly left my side all night, and it’s been reassuring. Even though I didn’t need it as much as I thought I would, it’s nice to know that he wasn’t just ready to throw me to the wolves.
“Do y’all remember a few years ago when we had so many damn lights at the party that we blew the electricity all the way to Evergreen Lane?” Jensen stops working on his much better-looking gingerbread house to address the table.
My eyes widen. “Oh God, I do remember that! My parents were so mad because of course our party was on the same night, and we were without power for so long that we had to end the party early and send everyone home. We didn’t even get to finish dinner.”
Jensen nods with a smirk, and Jude elbows him as if to tell him to shut up.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, a soft smile on my lips. “It’s kind of the… elephant in the room, and like we said, we can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s in the past, right?”
Everyone nods, and Jackson steps closer behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist protectively, stirring something in my chest.
It’s sweet that he’s going out of his way to make me feel comfortable and secure.
“Yeah. The funny part was, I’m pretty sure I have never seen Wayne’s face turn that red. I thought for sure he’d have a heart attack when we had to call the main power station to send someone out,” Josie adds, her dark hair swaying as she throws her head back in laughter. “That’s saying a lot because remember the year before when Jameson got shitfaced at the party, and you guys bet him five hundred bucks he wouldn’t ride the sleigh into town with Albert?”
My brow furrows. Albert…？
“My parents’ mule.” Jackson’s breath is hot against my neck as he clues me in.
I can practically picture his brother in a life-size red sleigh with a donkey pulling it, going at a turtle’s pace all the way into town.
“But he did, and guess what?” Josie says, looking pointedly at Jameson. “He did it in his underwear. Wayne loved that one. Both Mom and Dad had to go get him downtown because they were going to book him.”
Yawning, I set the bag of icing down on the table and then pull out my phone to check the time.
10:45.
I didn’t realize how quickly time had flown in between dinner and the gingerbread houses.
“You tired, Snowflake?” Jackson asks, tightening his arm around my waist.
I nod. “Yeah, I didn’t sleep well last night… I think I was just nervous?”
“C’mon, let’s get out of here. Pretty sure we’re not even in the realm of winning this thing, and I can’t fucking wait to get you home.”
Not that I expected to with the disaster that was our Pearce Family Gingerbread Contest entry.
His mom and sister pull me in for a hug, telling me to come back anytime and that they loved having me. It makes me feel so much better, knowing that my nerves were for nothing.
They didn’t have to accept me with open arms, but they did, and I’m so thankful that I came.
It’s one giant step in the right direction. To finally put this feud behind us.
Once we’re back at Jackson’s house and he brings my bags to the bedroom, he says as he leans against the doorframe, “I’m going to lock the house up. Bathroom’s right there. Be back in a few.”
His bedroom is exactly as I would’ve imagined. Dark wood paired with gray and black throughout. Masculine, neat, and simple. Just the way that he is.
The bed is neatly made, and there are piles of pillows that I absolutely can’t wait to sink into.
Slipping my toiletry bag from my overnight bag, I walk to the bathroom to quickly get ready for bed. After brushing my teeth, washing my face, and pulling my long hair up in a bun, I walk back into his bedroom, where he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling on his phone.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” I say, dropping my toiletry bag back into my overnight bag. “I have something for you.”
“Is it lingerie? I knew I was going to get my Christmas wish, Emma.”
Laughing, I pull out the matching red outfits I knitted. “Well… it is clothing. Sort of. I made Marley and Mo matching Christmas sweaters.”
I realize that it’s probably kind of silly to make his dogs Christmas sweaters, but I figured if we have ugly sweaters, then they should too.
“You knitted those… for my dogs?” His brow lifts in surprise, and an expression I can’t quite read passes over his face.
I nod. “I know… it’s kind of silly, but I just th—”
The words die on my lips as he crosses the room, grabbing my face and slanting his lips over mine, moving them in a kiss that is so powerful, so intense, so purposeful that it feels like my knees might actually give out.
“You are fucking perfect, Emma Worthington, and I was a fool for ever thinking you were anything other than that,” he says, dropping his forehead against mine.
My heart is pounding inside my chest so hard it feels like it might burst through.
“It’s just sweaters, Jackson,” I whisper quietly. “I just wanted them to have something festive too.”