Page 101 of Middle Ground
He’s seen a lot of ugly parts of me and he’s still here. It’s a powerful thing to see the worst sides of someone and still stick around to inspire them to be their best.
“My turn to say nice things about you,” I declare.
He mocks me with a gasp. “Meyer Ellison, being nice to me? Never thought I’d live to see the day.”
“You might not still,” I warn, but I can’t help my laugh.
His answering grin is blinding. It makes him look so handsome, I can’t resist leaning over and kissing him once more.
“You are so incredibly nerdy when it comes to data. I roll my eyes, but I think it’s hot. So are your suits. I love your rational brain, the way it competes with my hotheadedness,” I admit. “I love the way you challenge me to step outside my comfort zone and try different things with the inn. You match my sense of humour.” I pause as I draw in a deep breath. “Mostly, I just love the way you didn’t give up on me.”
I know I’m difficult. I’m not easy to crack open. Letting someone in enough to trust them isn’t a quick task. But, as always, Jackson has been patient.
He shakes his head. “Once I got here, that never even crossed my mind.” His gaze roves mine, searching. “So we’re doing this?” he asks.
I nod. “I think so.”
I let out a gasp when I’m rolled onto my back, and Jackson hovers over me. I throw my arms over his shoulders and tug him closer. Our lips collide.
There’s a lot of uncertainty in the future, not knowing if the person that has been terrorizing us will leave us alone, but with Jackson by my side, I feel like I can conquer anything.
CHAPTER 35
JACKSON
We’re goingto be late.
A quick glance at my watch proves we’realreadylate. It typically wouldn’t matter all that much, given how many extra hours we both spend at the inn, but we’re supposed to be having a staff meeting this morning.
“Ellison, we’ve gotta go.”
“Almost done,” Meyer says. She tries to pull a muffin out of the hot tin and accidentally touches the metal around the edge. “Ow, fuck.”
She tries again, getting the same result. I frown. “Are you sure you don’t want help?”
She raises a brow as she looks at me. “You do remember what happened when we made Cherie’s pie, don’t you? You and baking don’t mix, Hotshot. You andkitchensdon’t mix.”
When I caved and told her about the kitchen staff banishing me from the restaurant a couple weeks ago, she couldn’t stop laughing. So then I had to find a creative way to shut her up. She didn’t complain.
I shrug. “We had a chef when I was growing up. I never had to learn.”
She finishes packing the muffins for transport and then rounds the island. She pats my cheek affectionately. “Oh, you poor little rich boy.”
I take the muffin container from her before she can protest. Then she locks up her cottage and we walk down the gravel path toward the inn.
I can tell by the way Meyer keeps wringing her hands in front of her that she’s nervous. It was her idea to tell the staff today, but it’s clearly weighing on her.
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” I offer. “It can wait.”
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t want to keep secrets. I’m only a little nervous.”
I stop, taking hold of her hand in mine. “What are you nervous about?”
She frowns. “That people are going to judge me. That they’re going to think I’m only with you to get what I want with the inn.”
“If they think that, then they don’t know you at all.”
Chewing on her lower lip, she shrugs. “I don’t know.”
