“Okay, I’ll come. But… what should I even wear?”
Jackson laughs. “Definitely the ugly sweater I defiled you in, Snowflake.”
15
jackson
Christmas Spirit-ish
Unsurprisingly, Emma’s early.
I hear her car pull down the drive at ten till five, and of course, both Marley and Mo lose it the second I open the front door, booking it down the steps to her car before she can even kill the engine. Clearly, I’m not the only one who loves having Emma around. Those two are as taken with her as I am, and it’s just another thing I love about her.
She’s only met them a few times, but even when they jump up on her in excitement, she treats them lovingly, like they’re family, not like the wild nuisances most people see them as. A man can tell a lot about a woman by the way she treats his dogs.
Leaning against the porch rail, I watch as she immediately drops her bag and squats so she can give them both head scratches. She doesn’t even flinch as they undoubtedly leave her covered in puppy slobber and fur.
This girl is working her way into my heart, and I’m not sure that I want to stop her.
“Hiya, handsome,” she says as she walks up the steps, Mo and Marley flanking each side, the lights on her sweater blinking.
“Can’t believe you actually wore it, Snowflake. I’m impressed.” Reaching for her, I take the overnight bag off her shoulder and sling it over mine before pulling her to me, capturing her lips. “Even sexier than last time. Although, I think once we get home, we need a repeat of the dressing room.”
She hums against my lips, her fingers tangling into the front of my shirt. “Wait.” Pulling back, she rakes her eyes down my shirt, a frown forming on her lips. “Jackson Pearce, you better go right back into that house and put on your ugly sweater, or I am not going! You can’t expect me to be the only one to wear one!”
I was wondering how long it would take her to realize that I didn’t have mine on.
“How about you let me take yours off before we go? Damn, Snowflake, I love it when you’re feisty.” I waggle my brows, and she rolls her eyes, stepping around me and through the front door.
“Let me guess, that’s why you love to push my buttons so badly? C’mon, Mar, Mo! We’re leaving your daddy out here to freeze.”
And to absolutely no one’s surprise, the little heathen traitors march right past me and follow her into the house, leaving my ass out in the cold.
After getting the dogs situated, my house locked up, and Emma in the car, we make a short drive over to my parents’ house and park in the driveway. I walk around the truck and open Emma’s door, sliding my hand into hers as I help her out.
“Don’t be nervous,” I tell her, shutting the door behind her, and we make our way up the sidewalk.
“I’m not nervous,” she says too quickly, avoiding my eyes.
She’s absolutely fucking nervous. Since I’ve gotten to know her a bit better, I know that’s not a feeling that Emma likes to experience, so I want to calm her where I can.
I stop her before we reach the steps, turning her to face me as I grasp her chin between my fingers, tilting it up. “Okay, maybe you’re not nervous. Maybe you are and don’t want to admit it. Either way, I’ll be here. I promise it’ll be fine. My parents will love you once they get to know you. It’s just dinner, nothing fancy.” Reaching between us, I grab her fingers, which were fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, and lace them between mine, squeezing gently. “C’mon, Snowflake.”
After a few beats, she nods, exhaling, “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Before we can even make it to the front door, it swings open and Ma steps out, a bright smile on her face. “There you two are! We were about to get started without you.”
I can feel Emma tense beside me, her fingers gripping mine tightly before she lifts her other gloved hand to wave at Ma.
My mom is the kind of woman who has never once met a stranger. Anywhere we go, she’s making conversation with people she’s never met like she’s known them for years. The grocery store, the post office, the hardware store—hell, she’d pick up hitchhikers on the side of the damn road if my dad wouldn’t keel over from a heart attack.
So it doesn’t surprise me in the least that she walks directly to Emma and pulls her into one of her big hugs, patting her back gently as she whispers against her ear, “Hi, Emma. I’m Lucy, and I am so excited to have you here tonight.”
Emma quickly recovers from the initial shock and returns her hug. “Thank you so much for having me,” she says sincerely.
Ma pulls back from Emma and tosses me a wink before giving me a tight hug. She glances back at Emma. “Oh, I just love your sweater!”
“Ah, oh, yes, this sweater is one hundred percent your son’s doing.” Emma glances down at her sweater and then back at Ma. “He seems to have me doing all the crazy things this year.”
A grin forms on my lips, watching the exchange between the woman I love the most and a girl who I never expected to want to be around who’s suddenly the only one I want to be around. The one who’s invaded my thoughts and my heart. I fucking love seeing them together.
“Well, y’all come on in. It’s freezing out here, and we’ve got a whole house full of people who want to officially meet you.” Ma links her arm in Emma’s and pats it gently. “Now, you don’t let those boys bother you, Emma. They’re going to poke fun, I’m sure, but if any one of them steps out of line, they know they’re never too old for my wooden spoon.”
Emma chuckles, nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”
I’m thankful that Ma stepped up before we got inside to ease her nerves a little because Lord knows the second we walk over the threshold, it’s going to be absolute, pure chaos.
When we walk in, my little sister, Josie, is currently sitting on our oldest brother Jensen’s shoulders, swaying as she tries to put the star on the top of the tree. She looks like she’s about two seconds from falling off his shoulders, but you’d never know it by the way she’s laughing and yanking at his hair with one hand.
Welcome to the Pearce family.
“Oh, Josie, be careful! You do know we have a ladder?” Ma says, shaking her head with a wry grin. “I am not going to Dr. Grant tonight for stitches or a concussion.”
“We’re fine, Ma!” Jensen quips. “She weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet.”
“Hey!” Josie says, bopping him on top of the head. “One twenty-five, thank you very much.”