Page 40 of Middle Ground
She chews on her bottom lip, thinking. “Maybe you should stay in one of the rooms tonight. Or you could stay with me.”
I shake my head. “Sorry, but I need my sleep. I need my own bed, and I can’t be kept up by your snoring.”
Her mouth pops open in shock. “I do notsnore!”
“Yousodo.” This time, my smile is genuine. “Seriously. Please go home. I’m alright.”
After carefully assessing my face for signs of a lie, Pippa nods. She wraps her arms around me in a gentle hug as she reminds me how much she loves me. Then she sets across the parking lot toward her car.
“C’mon, Ellison,” Jackson says, nudging my arm. “I’ll walk you home.”
On a normal day, I would protest. But there’s nothing normal about today.
After checking in with the staff working the night shift to make sure they have everything they need, Jackson and I make the trek to my cottage.
When I step inside, Jackson follows. I whirl around. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He frowns, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “If you’re insisting on staying here alone, then I’m making sure the house is clear first. And that all your windows are locked.”
“My house wasn’t broken into,” I insist.
Jackson sighs. “Anything else, Ellison, I’ll let you fight me until you run out of breath. But your safety is not something I’m willing to argue about.”
That strangely sounds like hecares. And that makes the words dry up in my throat. All I can do now is nod, and then I let him into my house.
True to his word, Jackson inspects every nook and cranny of my tiny cottage. As his search proves fruitless, my muscles begin to relax, and I decide that maybe we’re all a bit paranoid. The spray paint was probably just some dumb highschool kids with nothing better to do. Wouldn’t be the first time a building in town got graffitied.
But it wasn’t just graffiti, a part of me says.
Like it or not, this was intentional—a way to get under my skin. My mind drifts to Reggie. He’s the only person I know of that would be mad enough to want to hurt me like this. But he wouldn’t do that. Or would he?
I thought I knew him, but I had never expected him to act the way he did the other day when I fired him. That was a side to him I hadn’t ever seen before.
When the last window is unlocked, opened, slammed shut and then locked again, I feel more at ease. Everything is right in my tiny corner of Fraisier Creek. Even Fish comes out from his hiding spot, sans panties, to swish against my shins.
When he spots Jackson, he hisses. This causes a small giggle to burst from my lips. Then I take note of Jackson’s offended expression, and the laughter turns hysterical, verging on unhinged.
“Like mother, like son,” Jackson muses.
“He takes a while to warm up to people,” I admit.
Also not unlike his mother.
I think of my mom’s nickname for me—prickly pear.Sharp on the outside, but all around sweet on the inside, she would say.
It’s natural to me to distance myself, but over the years, I’ve honed my skills. Other than with my select inner circle, closeness breeds vulnerability, and I can’t afford to be vulnerable when I want to be taken seriously by my employees. By this town.
I was raised by this town, and I know they love me. Butit’s also not lost on me that to most, I’m still that little girl who would play make believe in the corridors of the inn. As a woman—and a young one, no less—I’m already at a disadvantage. Giving off the impression that I can’t handle whatever comes my way is not an option.
So I’m a prickly pear, and I’ll be damned if I let Jackson Vaughan crack me open.
I clear my throat. “Thanks,” I say quietly. “I’d, uh, really like to go to sleep now.”
He almost looks hesitant to leave, but he nods. “Okay,” he says, heading for the door, “we can talk about this tomorrow. Make sure you lock up behind me.”
“Believe it or not, I know how to operate a lock,” I fire back, holding the door open for him. “It’s this little flippy thing back here, right?”
His lips quirk when he turns to look at me over his shoulder. “There she is.”
