It’s just, I’m fucking swamped at work, and though I’m thankful as hell to have my business, I haven’t had much time to do anything else before I pass out the moment my head hits the pillow.
“How’s things at the house coming?” Oliver asks from the other side of the bar.
I shrug. “Slow. Haven’t had much time to work on it when I’m constantly working on everyone else’s. But I’ve got a solid crew, and I think I’ll be able to delegate a bit more once the holidays have passed.”
“Cool. You headin’ out?”
“Yeah. Haven’t really slept. You know… spent the night in jail,” I pull a twenty out of my wallet and put it on the counter. “See you at poker night?”
“Nah, I’m coming to your family dinner this week. I can’t wait to hear what your parents have to say about this, and man, I cannot fucking wait to see how this plays out. You two working together and putting this feud to rest? I gotta see it to believe it.”
Of course, he can’t wait. Dick.
I arrive at the small coffee shop in Town Square approximately five minutes early just to prove a point. Which is almost pointless when I see Emma sitting at a table in the far back, head bent over a spiral-bound notebook.
She lifts her head, a tight smile on her face when she sees me approaching. Her gaze flits to her watch, then back at me as her brow arches. “Wow, four whole minutes early. I guess you proved me wrong.”
“Guess I did.” I smirk. “I’m going to grab a coffee.”
I glance down and see the steaming mug of coffee that’s got what looks like whipped cream, cinnamon, and caramel drizzled over the top.
Of course, she’d drink something… ridiculously frilly when it comes to coffee. Shouldn’t expect anything less.
The barista quickly takes my order, and after I’ve paid, she slides the steaming black coffee across the counter.
Simple. Just the way I like it.
After paying, I walk back to Emma, pulling out the chair and sitting across from her.
“So…” I start.
She rolls her plump lips together before sighing exasperatedly. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s unfortunately what we’re working with, and we’ve got to get along just long enough to get this done. I need you to not be a dick for the next three weeks so we can actually pull this off.”
I nod. “Fine. You’re right. The quicker we can get this over with, the better. What do you need from me?”
As I’m speaking, it feels like I’m being watched, and when I glance around the coffee shop, I see nearly every single pair of eyes on us.
I guess the people in town aren’t used to seeing a Worthington having an amicable conversation with a Pearce. Which is fair, seeing as how this is the first time in history anyone from our families has sat down and had coffee together.
Even though this technically isn’t by choice.
“Let me guess, literally everyone is staring at us?” Emma sighs, refusing to take her eyes off mine.
“Yup.”
Only then does she break our stare and drag her gaze out around her, shrinking slightly, as if making herself smaller is somehow going to change the fact that we’re the only thing this town has to talk about for the foreseeable future.
“Ignore them. Tell me what you need from me,” I say brusquely.
I don’t like being the center of attention for any goddamn reason, so the quicker I can get out of this chair, out of this damn building, away from her and the prying eyes of this town, the better.
She nods quickly, reaching behind her to begin pulling things out of her bag.
Pens, highlighters, note cards, a thing of gingerbread-shaped sticky notes, a ruler. And is that a… poster board?
What the fuck is happening?
“Are we going to class or talking about a Christmas party?” I ask, my brow furrowed.
Emma rolls her eyes and sets out each of the items in a neat row, taking her sweet time.
I can practically hear the whispers of everyone around us getting louder.
Christ.
“Well, unlike you, Pearce, I am extremely detail-oriented and organized. Type A.”
“Clearly.” Setting my coffee down in front of me, I cross my arms over my chest. “I expected nothing less from you, Emmie.”
“Emma.”
“Emmie.”
She huffs. “Every time I think we might actually have a chance at making this work, you remind me that it’s impossible.”
I shrug. “A special talent I possess.”
Emma rolls her eyes for the second time in two minutes and glances around her at the couple next to us, who are not attempting to hide their gawking and whispering.
“How about we do this somewhere less… crowded?” I ask.
“For once, something we can agree on. Where should we go?” she says, closing the notebook and shoving it and all her supplies into her bag.
“We can go to my house if you’re good with it, but I still need to run by a jobsite, so can we do it around six?”
Her blue eyes, which look like the sky after a fresh snow, widen at my suggestion.
Not that I’m particularly excited to have her at my house… but it’s quiet, and there won’t be prying eyes or people around to gossip about the two of us having to work together.
“Uh, yeah, I guess that could work. Could you text me directions?”
“It’s on Maple Hill. Can’t miss it,” I tell her, standing from my chair.
For a second, she blinks in surprise. “You bought Jacobson’s farmhouse?”
I nod. “Yeah. Last winter.”
I’m surprised she hasn’t heard about it, but I guess she wouldn’t be interested in anything that happens with me or my family.
“It’s… I mean, it’s basically condemned,” she says as she finishes placing her supplies back into her bag. “How are you living there?”
My chuckle is low as I lean in slightly. “I’m pretty good with my hands.”
I don’t miss the way her cheeks pink under the fluorescent light of the coffee shop, and I smirk, standing and pushing my chair back under the table.
“See you later, Emmie.”
Without another word, I turn on my heel and walk out of the coffee shop to my truck.
Maybe this thing won’t be so bad after all, especially if I can make her blush like that again. Only next time… maybe it’ll be with my tongue.
emma
Saint Nick… give me strength.
I can honestly say never in a billion years did I think I would ever be going to Jackson Pearce’s house. Then again, I never thought I would be able to exist in the same room with him, but somehow, we’re both still breathing so far.
“Holy…” I mumble as I pull my Mercedes down the long, winding driveway that leads to his house. Trees hang over the gravel, making it seem that much darker. It’s serene and peaceful, completely tucked away from the rest of the world.
Finally, after what feels like a mile, the old white farmhouse comes into view. It’s seen much better days, but that makes sense since it spent the better part of twenty years abandoned until apparently Jackson bought it. The paint around the doors and along the front is peeling, the shutters are rustic, and the pillars in the front seem like they could collapse at any moment from their old age.