He kisses me again, his hand cradling my jaw, so tenderly I could melt into a puddle right on the floor.
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Tonight we can talk, after the party.”
Jackson nods and steps back, immediately causing me to miss his touch. But if he doesn’t put distance between us, then we’re never going to finish getting the barn party-ready.
“Tell me where you need me,” he says.
I direct him to the few things that need to be hung, and then I busy myself covering the tables that we brought over from Town Hall, resetting them with the elegant centerpieces, place cards, and silverware.
With the help of his crew and the catering company and with some patience from the band, we manage to get everything set back up with twenty minutes to spare.
And… it doesn’t look half-bad.
It actually looks quite charming, much cozier than the outdated Town Hall ever did. The fireplace is crackling, the band set up nearby, leaving a decent-sized dance floor. The Worthington tree twinkles, the flocked branches full of ornaments, ribbon, and lights. It’s exactly what this space needed to tie it together. Glittering snowflakes and faux snow are strewn around the rafters, draped from one side to the other, along with twinkling fairy lights that set the tone. It looks classy but also welcoming and cozy. The barn turned out to be the perfect setting for a party that is somehow both Worthington and Pearce.
The six-tier gingerbread cake is covered in white icing, with piped snowflakes around the base, and sugared ice is sprinkled from top to bottom. It’s beautiful, and judging by the way it smells, it’s going to be as delicious as Jackson promised it would be. I guess not going with vanilla was the right choice. Something I’m sure Jackson will love to tease me about.
I’m beyond proud of the work we’ve done and even prouder that despite everything going wrong at the last minute, we somehow made it way better than what it originally would’ve been.
“Looks good, Emma,” Jude affirms, placing the last of the tea light candles into their holders on the tables.
I smile. “Well, I definitely couldn’t have done it without your brother or any of your help.”
“Yeah, would you look at that… a Pearce and a Worthington, working together. Who would’ve ever thought?” He chuckles. “I’m glad we could help though. It was kind of nice helping today. Makes me think next year maybe I should be in charge of the party.”
“Not a chance in hell, baby brother. Sorry, but my girl is the only one for the job,” Jackson interjects as he walks up, lacing his fingers in mine. “Ready to do this?”
“Yes. Let’s show this town what happens when two ‘feuding families’ come together and throw the party of a century.”
18
jackson
A Very Festive Feud
I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room, the entire town surrounding me, and the only thing I see is Emma Worthington.
If you had told me a month ago that I would be falling in love with the girl I’ve spent the majority of my life hating, I would’ve laughed in your face and told you that you’d lost your mind.
Yet, here I stand, hopelessly in love with her.
I watch as she tips her head back, laughter pouring from her lips, her blonde curls swaying at her waist in response to whatever Quinn Grant said. I’ve been watching her for the last ten minutes, silently sipping my beer.
She’s so fucking beautiful and completely in her element right now.
Despite her worries and all the obstacles, the party is a hit. I mean, as much as it can be with our families on separate sides of the room, pretending like the other doesn’t exist, both using the residents of Strawberry Hollow as a buffer between them.
It’s clear that people are enjoying themselves, the band keeping the room lively, but there’s still… unresolved tension hanging heavily in the air.
Everyone is kind of standing around, waiting with bated breath for the other shoe to drop, and I don’t blame them.
“Man, a lot happened in three weeks.”
Glancing up, I see Oliver walking up with a grin as he follows my gaze to Emma.
Isn’t that the truth.
But I shrug. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t act like you’re not completely wrapped around that girl’s finger, Pearce.” Laughing, he tips his beer back. “You haven’t taken your eyes off of her since she walked through the door.”
“Yeah, well, she’s kind of had me wrapped around her finger since day one. I’m pretty sure fighting over a nutcracker with her and getting tossed in the drunk tank for a night may have been the best thing that has ever happened to me. I never stood a chance.”
He chuckles. “I knew the day you sat in my bar that you were a goner. Hell, you didn’t even know it then.”
The band switches to “I’ll Be Home For Christmas,” and that’s my cue.
“Sorry, man, gotta go dance with my girl.”
“Go, go. Stop by the bar next week so we can catch up now that you’re off party-planning duty.”
With a nod, I leave him and make my way across the barn to Emma and Quinn. I slide my hand around her hip, and she jumps in surprise.
“Hi.” I grin. “Sorry to interrupt, Quinn. Can I steal Emma away for a dance?”
Quinn’s eyebrow rises, and she nods, clearly shocked that the two of us aren’t at each other’s throats.
I told Emma I was done hiding, and I meant it. The means here, at our party, I want to dance with her and drown out the damn world.
Turning to her, I ask, “Can I have this dance?” and offer her my hand.
She slides her palm into mine, and I whisk her away to the edge of the dance floor, choosing a less crowded spot in the back so we can talk. Her hands clasp behind my neck as we slowly sway to the music, my arms tight around her waist, pressing her against me. Thankfully, her parents are on the far side of the barn, so we’re hidden from their view by the crowd. They’ve been at a table in the corner all night, not trying to hide their distaste for being here.
“You know, I never got to tell you how beautiful you look tonight,” I murmur.
She grins cheekily. “Oh! That’s right, you didn’t. But I mean, if you want to tell me now… I’m listening.”
“That mouth.” I lean forward, nipping at her lips as she squeals quietly against my mouth. When I pull back, her cheeks are flushed red from laughing, those painted red lips parted. “I can’t stop looking at you, Snowflake. That dress, hugging all of your curves… the red on your lips, the happiness in your eyes. But even without anything else, just you… you’re the most beautiful girl in this room, without question.”
“Are you… trying to get in my pants, Jackson Pearce?” she responds, and I can’t help the laugh that falls from my lips.
This. Girl.
“That depends. How am I doing?”
Her hands tighten in the hair at my nape, and she rises on her toes, pulling me down to her lips. Just before they brush mine, she whispers, “I’d say your chances are looking preeeetttttty good.”
“Um… sorry to interrupt.”