I can practically smell his fresh, earthy scent that comes from long hours working in the sun with his bare hands. Practically feel the warmth of his skin on mine, how unwaveringly strong his muscles are beneath my touch.
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
This feels entirely too real to be a dream.
I wake with a start, a gasp tumbling from my lips as my eyes crack open groggily. For a second, I forget that I’m sitting on this impossibly hard concrete bench inside a jail cell because I’m draped across a chest, and it’s much softer than the bench yet still hard from the planes of muscles.
Oh God.
I’m lying across Jackson like he’s a thousand-count Egyptian cotton. Maybe if I don’t move, he won’t realize that I’ve woken up, and we can avoid this embarrassing situation entirely. It’s not like I meant to fall asleep on top of him. Clearly, it happened in an act of subconsciousness.
“Don’t worry, Emmie. Most women can’t help but want to wake up on top of me.”
His chest rumbles beneath me as he chuckles, and I sit up abruptly, almost falling off the side of this stupid, tiny bench.
“Clearly, I was asleep and had no idea what I was doing, or I would’ve chosen the floor over you,” I scoff, brushing my fingers through my messy hair. My curls are limp and tangled from sleeping, and I can’t imagine what my makeup must look like after hours in this concrete hell.
I can’t wait to get out of here. To my own bed, in my own space, and to never have to think of this night or him ever again.
“I’m pretty sure you moaned my name in your sleep.” He smirks. “Wouldn’t be the first time though.”
“I loathe you.”
He shrugs. “Feeling is mutual, Emmie.”
Standing from the bench, I cross to the other side of the cell and lean against the cold metal, my gaze narrowed on him.
I don’t know how much longer I can take being stuck in this room with him before one of us kills the other.
So much for a ceasefire. Not that I expected it to actually happen. Wishful thinking.
When I woke up this morning, the very last thing I expected to happen was to end the night in a four-by-four jail cell with the most annoying man on the planet, yet I’ve learned in this short time that it is actually possible to hate someone more than you ever imagined.
And truly, there’s not enough room between these concrete walls for both us and his ridiculously large ego.
It takes up most of the room, leaving no space for anything else.
We stay that way, both of us silently glaring at the other from across this small cell until I hear the sound of keys jangling, and my gaze flits to the door. Seconds later, Wayne appears, a wide smile on his face.
“Well, good morning to Strawberry Hollow’s newest criminals. Sleep well? I hope our amenities were well suited for the two of you.” He smiles smugly.
Jackson rises, stretching his arms above his head, a deep groan rumbling in his chest. I refuse to let my gaze drop to the sliver of skin that peeks out from the hem of his white tee and the waistband of his worn Wranglers.
“I’ve slept in worse places. Princess here, well, you know, she barely survived and probably wouldn’t have if not for my gentlemanly ways. And they say chivalry is dead.” Tossing me a shit-eating smirk, he swipes his flannel off the bench and shrugs it on, leaving it open, only rolling up the sleeves.
So rough and casual, nothing fancy or grandiose about him, but I can’t pull my eyes away, as much as it irks me. I shouldn’t be eyeing the man I hate, but here I am, ogling him like he’s Sunday dinner.
“Get me out of here, Wayne. Please. Valentino is not meant for a jail cell,” I mutter as I come to my senses, brushing past Jackson with a scowl.
My feet are hurting so badly I could actually cry, but I refuse to let my bare skin touch anything in this place for fear of getting hepatitis or something worse, and I’m not going to give Jackson the satisfaction of being right.
“Woah, woah, woah, Emma. Now, hold on a second. Mayor Davis is here in the lobby to see both of you.” Wayne’s expression sobers, and the smile he wore only a minute ago is nowhere to be seen. “I’m supposed to escort you out to sign your discharge paperwork and to meet with him. Come with me, please.”
Jackson sighs but says nothing and gestures for me to go after Wayne. We walk down the dark, musty hallway of the tiny police station to the front waiting room that’s not much bigger than the cell we just left.
“Ah, Jackson Pearce, Emma Worthington.” Mayor Davis greets us both from the other side of the front desk. He’s a short, balding, pudgy man with a kind smile and a combover. I’ve known him since I was a child.
Smiling, I offer him a tired wave. “Good morning, Mr. Davis.”
“Jed.” Jackson nods.
“Must say, I was not all that shocked to receive the phone call I did yesterday evening from Wayne, and I’m so disappointed in both of you. Quite frankly, myself, along with the rest of our town, is over your… antics. This has gone too far. Your families have been at each other’s throats over this silly feud for too long.”
“Mr. Davis, I—”
He holds his hand up, silencing me, and I can tell by the stern expression on his face that he is not interested in anything I have to say. And judging by the way Jackson’s running his fingers through his already disheveled hair, he’s as tense as I am.
“Yesterday was simply the gust that blew the house over. I’m done, Sheriff Williams is done. And this?” He gestures his pudgy finger between the both of us. “Is done. So here is what’s going to happen. We all know that this stems back to your annual Christmas parties. Every single year, each of your families tries to outdo the other. It never fails, Wayne somehow gets called in because of it. Now, I’m all about the Christmas spirit—you both should know that better than anyone—which is part of the reason that I’ve let this go on for as long as I have.” Pausing, he sighs. “But this year is when it stops. I won’t be approving permits for either of your parties.”
My heart stutters in my chest at what he’s saying.
No party?
That’s… that’s never happened in the entire time I’ve been alive. In all of the years my family has lived in Strawberry Hollow. My family, along with Jackson’s, unfortunately, are famous for our annual Christmas parties. The entire town knows this.
“But—” I start, but he shakes his head, silencing me once more. I’m beginning to feel like a chastised child who’s gotten punished during this conversation. I understand that what happened was unacceptable, but this as a punishment?
“I’m not going to change my mind on this, Emma. If you want to have a party, you’ll have it together at Town Hall.”
My gaze shoots to Jackson’s, and I see his jaw working as he clenches his teeth together. Clearly, he’s as unhappy about this as I am.
There is absolutely no way that the two of us, much less both of our families, can be in the same room for an extended period of time without someone losing an eyeball.
“Actually, now that I’m saying it out loud, I think that there is no more perfect plan than this.” Mayor Davis smiles, suddenly entirely too happy to be the one to hand down this ridiculous punishment. “Either you have the party together at Town Hall, or the general store will go ahead with pressing charges, and this ‘accident’ will remain on both of your records. Permanently.”