Page 22 of The Jilted Lovers Club
“Fine, I’ll stay with you.” I try to ignore the flutter in my chest when his face lights up in a grin. “And I won’t tell these people anything that’s not their business, even if your ex is a piece of shit.” I glance outside, noting that the picketers are still going strong. It makes me furious just seeing them. I want nothing more than to go out there and give them a piece of my mind. But they already have a vendetta against me, and acting out my rage isn’t going to help.
I turn back to Ashton. “If I’m going to get anything done here, I need to clear out these protesters. Will you back me up?”
He points the stroller towards the door, then nods in its direction.
“Let’s get to it,” he says.
I march to the front door, unlock it, and stride straight to the center of the picketers’ slow-moving circle.
“Listen up,” I call out, planting my feet. “I get that you’re angry, and that you want someone to blame. But blocking the entrance is not going to change what happened.”
“You’re the one changing our town,” a man shoots back. “You and whoever you work for.”
I narrow my eyes at him, feeling the agitation rise in me as the others murmur around him. “I was hired to do a job,” I point out. “I didn’t buy this place, and I didn’t sell it either. But you’re sure as hell making me the villain because it’s easier than facing facts.”
“There’s freedom of speech laws, lady,” another one calls. “We can protest wherever we want.”
“Sure,” I say, “but the law also says you can’t obstruct a place of business, and my boss has lawyers. So unless you’re ready to get sued for trespassing, I’d rethink this little stand-off.”
A few of them shift uneasily, but a woman in the front steps onto the street and spread her arms wide. “Then we’ll just move to the road.”
Before I can fire back, Ashton’s voice cuts through the tension. “Jordy is not the bad guy here.”
All eyes shifts to him, including mine. Lottie sits in her stroller, her juice forgotten as she stares wide-eyed at the crowd. I have this momentary urge to stand in front of her, shielding her from all the negative energy this crowd is directing our way.
“She’s an independent contractor,” Ashton continues, his voice steady. “She didn’t make the decision to sell. I did, and the Felixes did.”
“Ashton,” I murmur, but he doesn’t stop.
“I understand your frustration. You loved The Till. I did too. But there wasn’t another choice.”
“You could have talked to us,” the woman in the street snaps, though her tone is lighter than it was with me.
“We could have done a lot of things,” Ashton admits. “But what’s done is done. Taking it out on Jordy won’t bring The Till back. And whether you shop here or not, this new store is coming. Protesting won’t change that.”
A beat of silence passes, and I feel it in my static breath. I hate that I’m nervous, that I even care enough about their response to be nervous.
“We won’t spend a dime here,” the woman finally says. I breath out as a murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd.
“That’s fine,” Ashton says. “But let Jordy do her job. She’s not the one you’re mad at.”
The crowd continues their grumbling, casting a few sideways glances at us as they disperse. I turn to Ashton, feeling my shoulders lower as I let down my guard. My whole body loosens, making me realize how tightly wound I’ve been.
“I can’t believe that worked,” I mutter.
Ashton nods, blowing out a rush of air before shooting me a crooked grin. “Me neither.”
“Want to try that on Bernie at the hotel?”
He shakes his head. “Bernie is a tough nut to crack. I think she tolerates me only because of Lottie. But she’s obviously dug her heels in about this, and when she digs her heels in about something, there’s really no way of turning her around.” He bumps my shoulder then, giving me a side grin. “Besides, you’re about to stay at Chateau Elliot, run by yours truly. You really want to turn that down?”
No, I really don’t, though I should. The way his smile is making my butterflies do somersaults, I should run the otherway. But the thought of sharing space with him for weeks on end makes this whole chaotic shitstorm worth it.
“Guess you have a new roommate,” I say, bumping him back.
I spend the rest of the afternoon in a nearby coffee shop, amending sketches to fit the space while Ashton takes off so that Lottie can take her nap. The shush of the coffee machine and the burst of caffeine in my veins helps me transition from the chaos of this morning back into work mode.
I compare my earlier designs with some of the new ones I’d worked on this morning. My original ideas include chandeliers and tapestries, bronze sculptures and elaborate murals. It was to be extreme luxury meets 17thcentury, and honestly, it would have looked exquisite in the space. But having met with the town’s fierce loyalty, I feel like it’s more important to match the spirit of Lahoma Springs. Sure these people have been assholes, but it’s not going to help business if I create something that clashes with the rest of the town.
