Not sure whether or not I should be afraid of Emma right now or turned on, but it’s definitely a mixture of both.
I pull my old ball cap further down my ears like it will somehow stop the cold from seeping past the mesh, and then I step out into the snow. The ground is so fucking slick I almost eat shit right by the front door of the office but somehow manage to wrench the door open and step inside. Thank fuck, I’m immediately hit with a gust of warmth.
“Hiya, darlin’!” an older lady with graying hair says from the other side of the desk. She’s working on what looks to be like knitting a sweater.
“Hi, do you have any rooms available? That storm really came out of nowhere.”
She nods, looking up from her yarn and offering me a kind smile. “Yes, it did seem to come out of nowhere. Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll get you situated. What type of room are you looking for?”
“Two, if possible.”
“Ah.” Her eyes flit down the ledger in front of her, her brow furrowing closely after. “It seems like we only have one room available left tonight. We had quite a few people stopping in when they heard of the storm, and of course, we had to reserve a few rooms for our staff. Don’t want them traveling on the roads in this weather either.”
I nod. “Of course not. I’ll take it.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out cash from my wallet since something tells me that they don’t have a card machine, judging by the paper ledger she’s using.
Gwen, I learn her name is, quickly checks us in, then hands me an old motel key and directs me where to park. We say a quick goodbye, and I open the door and face the cold once more.
Emma is glowering at me from the front seat, her arms crossed over her chest.
Too bad she doesn’t know that there’s only one room available tonight, with one single bed.
It’s going to be a long night.
And not in the way I’d hoped.
emma
Hallmark after dark
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say, my eyes widening as I follow behind Jackson into the room.
Singular room.
Because of course that would be how it happens, especially when involving Jackson Pearce.
Only one single room left at this motel.
Even better?
It’s the honeymoon suite, complete with decor straight from the eighties, with a matching red heart-shaped Jacuzzi tub directly in its center.
“Nice,” he says, completely unfazed.
I feel like I’m the star of some reality television show and not a part of the joke that everyone else seems to be in on but me.
“Jackson, we can’t possibly stay here,” I tell him exasperatedly. “Surely, you realize that, right?”
His brows rise. “Where else are we going to stay, Snowflake?”
I take a second to take some calming deep breaths and try to recenter myself. My eyes flit around the room as I take in the velvet quilt and pale pink sheets on the bed to the Jacuzzi tub that has two heart-shaped towels linked together next to it, along with a cheap bottle of champagne.
“You’re right. Sorry, I’m just stressed, but also, this is your fault for not booking the room,” I say, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling my phone out of my purse. I need to at least text my parents and my best friend, Katie, to let them know that I’m safe. Well, as safe as I can be, considering I now have to share a bed overnight with someone who probably wants to suffocate me in my sleep or fuck me. It changes by the minute.
No, no, no. We are not going there tonight. I’m not even going to think about the last time that Jackson and I spent the night together. I’m definitely not going to think about how he looked with me on my knees between his strong, muscled thighs with his hands tangled in my hair and the strong column of his throat exposed as he groaned in pleasure.
I’m definitely not going to think about that. Just like there’s definitely not an ache forming between my thighs right at this very moment.
“You good? Your cheeks are flushed.”
I nod, avoiding his gaze as I stand from the bed to grab my overnight bag and start to dig inside of it for my clothes. “Yup. Totally fine. Just going to get ready for bed. I’m tired.”
“Okay, no problem. I’m going to go look for a vending machine for dinner since I’m sure everything is closed. Any requests?”
Looking up, my gaze travels over the expanse of his shoulders, drinking in the way the fabric of his shirt hugs the muscles, and it makes me wonder if he works out.
Does he spend time in the gym, or are those muscles simply the result of all the manual labor he does with his job?
“Anything is fine for me. A water would be great.”
He nods and, with one last look, disappears through the motel door, leaving me in silence, and for the first time tonight, I feel like I can take a full breath.
I quickly slip into the bathroom and put on the only thing I brought to sleep in, which is a big T-shirt and a pair of panties because, of course, I didn’t think I’d be sharing a room with anyone. Especially not him.
It’s either this… or sleeping in my jeans, which is not happening. Jackson is just going to have to get over it and learn how to be the gentleman he always seems to make fun of.
Do I actually even like when he’s a gentleman though? Truly? Because I seem to love this rough, unruly version of him, even though I shouldn’t.
Groaning, I drop my head in my hands before lifting it to stare into the small mirror above the sink. My blonde hair is half-damp, half-dry from the snow, a tangled mess framing my face. I bypassed a full face of makeup today except for a smidge of BB cream, mascara, and lip gloss, so I grab a rag and wipe off the remnants.
Once I’m done, I brush my teeth and run my hairbrush through my hair, then remove my contacts and put on my glasses.
I usually only wear them before bed, so it’ll be the first time that Jackson’s seen me in them.
Not that I’m worried about what he thinks of my appearance or anything.
Because I’m most definitely not. Besides, it’s pretty clear that he’s attracted to me, which is a whole problem in and of itself.
Smoothing my hands down over my nightshirt, I open the door and find Jackson sitting in the chair, a bag of chips opened in front of him as he’s bent over what looks like house plans.
“Bathroom’s open if you need it,” I say, making my way to the bed and pulling back the covers.
“Thanks. I was just going over these plans again. We’re close to finishing, and I want to make sure everything’s perfect,” he says as he rolls up the paper and puts it back into his bag.
“For a new house?”
He nods. “Yeah, one of the biggest custom builds I’ve ever done. A lot of moving parts to make a house come together.” Grabbing the pile of snacks from the table, he walks over and flops down across from me, spreading the pile out. “I didn’t know what to get, so I got a bit of everything. I’m a chocolate kinda guy.”
“You seem like a chocolate kind of guy.”