Page 69 of Middle Ground
“This never happened!” I call after him. I don’t know what possessed me to say it.
He turns now, walking backwards. “What never happened?”
And then he smirks.
Fuck.
CHAPTER 24
JACKSON
This never happened.
That’s what Meyer said last night. After everything that we did in her living room, I barely had time to zip up my fly before she was urging me out the door. Shutting me out. That part isn’t new, but foolishly, I thought things might be a little different now.
She might want to forget, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make that impossible. Something this mind-blowing—this explosive—can’t be wrong.
So I show up to work just like I always do, coffee in hand. This part of our morning has become so routine, Meyer doesn’t even think twice about it. The muffin I place in front of her, however, gives her pause.
“What is that?” she asks.
“I’m fairly certain that is a muffin, if the bakery display at the café is to be believed.”
She scrutinizes it and then me. “Why is it on my desk?”
“Because I know you didn’t eat breakfast.”
Her chin lifts. “And how would you know that?”
“Because you always help with the supply delivery on Tuesdays and you never give yourself enough time for food in the morning. Then you’re starving by the time lunch rolls around.” I gesture to the muffin. “So do me a favour and eat that.”
Her suspicion mounts. “If this is about yesterday…”
I laugh. I laugh as if that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. “Definitely not,” I reply. “You’re just easier to deal with when you’re not hungry.”
This is what she expects from me. She rolls her eyes, and I take that as acceptance. The slightest sign of caring on my end will have her running for the hills. Because I have come to care for her in the months we’ve been at this partnership. But that doesn’t fit into her idea of who we are, and until I can convince her that maybe that’s not the kind of guy I want to be, I have to play the game. Or I risk her pulling away even further.
There’s a knock on the door, tugging me from my thoughts, and then Pippa pokes her head in. “Good morning,” she says to me, a soft smile on her lips.
“Morning, Pippa,” I reply. “I haven’t seen Atticus in a while. How is he?”
Her smile brightens. It always does at the mention of her son. “He’s great. Giving me a few grey hairs, as always.”
“You’re twenty-five, Pip. You donothave grey hairs,” Meyer says.
“I plucked one this morning!” she insists. “Anyway, I wasjust wondering if you could do inventory this morning, Meyer. I have tables I need to cover.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I interject.
My business partner’s eyes narrow on me. “You know how to take inventory?”
“I do know how to count, yes.” I can tell she wants to bite out some snappy retort, a consequence of the vulnerable moment we shared last night still lingering. But I don’t let her. Instead, I turn back to Pippa. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”
She looks a little apprehensive, glancing between me and Meyer, but then she nods. “Thank you, Jackson. I appreciate it.”
Pippa heads back to the restaurant, and I gather the papers I need to take inventory. Meyer watches me, but she peels the wrapper from the muffin and begins to take small bites. She tears the top off first, her favourite part, and then finishes off the bottom.
I have to hide my satisfied smile as I step out of the room.
