6. Jefferson
CHAPTER 6
JEFFERSON
The little bell above the door jingles happily as I push open the door to Scott’s Sweets and let Harlow pass in front of me.
Her mom, Peyton, one of my favorite people despite her hardheaded, feisty, smart-mouthed offspring, is behind the counter.
Her face lights up when she sees us. “Well, hi, you two!”
“Hi, Mom,” Harlow says, her entire countenance changing as she crosses the shop and rounds the front counter to give her mom a hug. “I’m in desperate need of coffee and an orange scone.”
“Your wish is my command,” Peyton teases. “I’ve got nothing else going on.”
Harlow laughs. “I know you’re slammed in here. I can serve myself.”
Peyton glances at me then back at her daughter who is already at the coffee pot. “Are you going to get Jefferson anything?”
Harlow doesn’t even look at me. “Jefferson knows where everything is in here too.”
Peyton props a hand on her hip and looks between Harlow and me. “You know we have windows on this shop, right?”
Harlow turns with her mug and leans her hip against the counter. “What do you mean?”
“That I saw you walking up the sidewalk holding hands.”
Harlow doesn’t react. She sips from her cup. “Yeah, we have something to tell you.”
Peyton’s brows arch.
I continue to just stand in the middle of the shop, my hands tucked in the front pockets of my jeans. I’m happy to let Harlow take the lead here. It will be amusing to see how she explains this to her mother. Of course, I’d been shocked that she’d asked for my help. But a simple help me from Harlow and my body automatically turned for the front door of the diner.
But now we’ve got a situation, and our moms are just two of the many people that need to be brought up to speed.
I wouldn’t call Peyton Hansen laid-back. Not at all, in fact. Peyton is a hot-blooded, protective, feisty woman. Her temper flares hot and fast. There are many stories about young Peyton smashing headlights and even noses when needed. The best storyteller is her husband, the guy who was the cop back then too, as a matter of fact. She was a hellraiser. Though it seems she always channeled her ire and vengeance on people who deserved it.
Peyton is extremely protective of her inner circle. But I’m not worried that she’ll turn any of that on me. I’m in that inner circle.
I was on my way over here to the bakery when Harlow waylaid me. I’d planned to chat with both of our moms and just enjoy one of my summer mornings off. Football practice doesn’t start for a couple of months yet, and I’m not teaching any summer classes this year. I also got out of driver’s ed and they didn’t need my help with baseball this year, so I have a relatively low-key June and July ahead. I’m looking forward to it.
“I’m all ears,” Peyton says, nudging her daughter's foot with her own.
“Is Adrianne around?” Harlow asks. “We might as well tell you both at once.”
“Did you kill someone?” Peyton asks her.
Harlow doesn’t actually act as shocked as you might expect. She laughs. “That’s your first guess?”
Peyton shrugs. “That you would kill someone, and Jefferson would help you bury the body? It’s in the top three.”
I chuckle. I’m not offended by the assumption that I’d help Harlow cover up a crime. We don’t get along, but that’s because we approach life very differently. She’s completely right about that. We love people differently. But we both love big and hard. So our people feel it. We are both pretty big influences in the lives of the people we care about.
And, because we share a lot of people and our lives overlap, we’ve butted heads. Graham is the main one she’s pissed about, but he’s not the only one. And, by the way, she’s influenced some of our mutuals in ways that piss me off too.
No, we do not see eye to eye on things like what support and encouragement mean, but…do I think she’s a good person? Yes. Do I think she truly does care about the right things? Yes. Would I help her bury a body? Yes.
And is it possible there would be a body to bury?
Yes.
Peyton’s protectiveness has been passed on to Harlow. Harlow fights for the people she loves. But she seemingly lacks her mother’s fire. Seemingly. On the surface, Harlow seems to take after her dad—the laid-back, rocksteady, even-more-stubborn-than-Peyton town cop who ended up smitten with the bad girl.
Scott and Peyton are quite a pair.
One of the most fascinating things for me about Harlow Hansen, however, is that I think there’s more of her mother in her than she likes to let on. In fact, I think she squelches those tendencies. And sometimes I think that’s difficult for her.
So do I believe there could be an instance where someone pushes her too far?
Yep.
And I know it would be because that someone did something to someone she loves.
So yes, I would help her cover it up. No question in my mind.
“And you think I would come tell you about the murder over scones and coffee?” Harlow asks her mom.
“Yes,” Peyton says. “You wouldn’t be able to keep it quiet and you wouldn’t tell Mia or Austin. And you definitely wouldn’t tell your dad.”
I agree that she wouldn’t tell her sister or brother. She protects them. She’d never want them to know something that might burden them somehow.
For some reason that annoys me. Who does Harlow lean on? I don’t know why the question suddenly goes through my head, but I can’t ignore it.
Probably because the answer is Graham.
Or was.
Before he went to Colorado.
I blow out a breath. Do not let her get to you. Not already anyway.
It could be a really long week if I start feeling things for Harlow. Like soft. Or sorry.
Harlow’s eyes find mine across the shop. “I don’t think I’d need to tell anyone else if Jefferson was in on it.”
Peyton tips her head and looks at me as well. “Oh really?”
“Nope,” Harlow says. “I’d have my partner in crime. Why would I need to tell you?”
“To assuage your guilty conscience?”
She snorts. “You’ll always love me no matter what. And you would totally believe that whoever it was deserved it. But I would definitely make sure Jefferson’s hands were just as dirty as mine, so I’d be able to hold that over his head forever. He’d have a direct stake in keeping it quiet. And that would be way more fun. He’d start being an ass at some family picnic and I’d just say, ‘anyone know how to get blood out of cashmere?’ and he’d shut right up.”
I just shake my head, but she smirks. Because she knows she’s right.
Peyton laughs, then raises her voice, “Adrianne, come out here!”
My mom emerges from the back, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes widen with pleasure when she sees Harlow, then she notices me, and her grins widens. “Hi.”
“You should know that we are pretending to be madly in love for this week,” Harlow says without preamble.
Our moms both just look at us for a couple of seconds, letting that sink in.
Then my mother says, “Sounds good.”
Peyton nods. “Okay.”
Harlow frowns at both of them. “You don’t want to know why?”
My mom laughs. “Well, it’s the two of you. I assume there’s a good reason.”
“Same,” Peyton agrees.
“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Harlow asks.
I’m enjoying this far more than I expected to. I’m not sure what I thought our mothers’ reactions would be, but calm acceptance wasn’t it. I approach the counter and cross my arms on top of the bakery case, settling in.
“You don’t think people will think this is strange and sudden?” I ask.
My mom shakes her head. “You’ve known each other forever. You’ve spent a lot of time around one another. You’re about the same age. I don’t think anyone will think it’s strange that you’d date at some point.”
Harlow snorts and I grin instead of taking offense as some men would. I can’t help it, she cracks me up. Her seeming distaste for me is over-the-top.
I believe that she’s mad at me. I believe the grudge she’s holding, that she’s held for years, is real. But I don’t think she actually thinks I’m a horrible person. I think she enjoys telling herself and acting as if I’m a horrible person, though.
“I would never date him.”
“Then why are you pretending to this week?” Peyton asks as she turns back to frosting the cookies laid out on the counter in front of her.
They’re shaped like Ferris wheels and she’s adding shiny icing that fills in the tiny seats and spokes of the wheel. Obviously, these are for the festival rather than the wedding. Then I shake my head. They actually could be for either. Or both. I love the way Kaelyn and Carver are combining their wedding with the festival. It’s really turning into just another festival activity at this point.
“Zach Nelson is back in town,” I say. “He thinks that he’s going to win Harlow back. We decided to torture him a little bit. Harlow telling him no will upset him, but we want him to be really miserable.”
Peyton is nodding as if she’s fully on board with that. But then again, Peyton has a mean streak.
The amusing and mildly surprising part is that my mother is also nodding and smiling. My mother is very sweet. She’s not the revenge type.
Unless, of course, someone hurts someone she loves. She won’t smash headlights, but she’d definitely be up for some conspiring.
“Good for you. He doesn’t deserve your time or energy,” my mom tells Harlow.
My family loves Harlow. That’s not in question whatsoever. And of course, they feel protective of her. Even if Zach was just your run-of-the-mill ex-boyfriend who had hurt her mildly. But he isn’t. He was her first love and broke her heart badly. So they automatically don’t like him. That’s pretty amazing.
And they don’t even know the half of it. Most people don’t. Harlow doesn’t even know that I know the whole story.
“While Zach’s in town we need to sell the story that you two are together, madly in love, and we’re all thrilled by it,” Peyton summarizes. “That’ll be easy.”
Harlow narrows her eyes. “Yeah?”
“Certainly. We all love you both. Having you together will be great.”
Harlow’s gaze meets mine. She looks like she has questions. I just shrug. It’s nice that our parents love us both and think it will be easy to treat us as a couple, I suppose. It will certainly make this week easier.
“You’ll tell Dad?” I ask my mom.
My dad is an interesting guy. He loves us all, but he is very analytical. He might be one to dig more into why we’re doing this, what is our expected outcome, is there another better approach, and what the effects will be afterward.
Those are all fair questions, and I’m not sure I can answer them. The best communicator with my dad has always been and will always be my mother.
She smiles. “Of course.”
She’ll also know when the best time to tell him will be. When he’ll actually absorb the information and understand how he needs to act so that no one gets suspicious.
“Can I tell your dad?” Peyton asks Harlow with a grin.
We all laugh. Scott is protective. Of his wife and his children.
But I realize I’m not worried. Sure, Peyton will tell him that it’s fake and why. I assume Scott will approve of me protecting Harlow to some extent from Zach. But I don’t think Scott would have a problem with me and Harlow dating. Scott likes me. He knows I’m a good guy.
He also knows Harlow and my general vibe.
He might actually be worried about me.
“He’s going to be out and about in town,” Harlow says. “People might ask him about it. We should tell him sooner versus later.”
“How many people know about this?” my mom asks.
“We were just down at the diner. So…”
“Everyone,” Peyton fills in.
Not that the entire town was at the diner, but everyone at the diner has probably already told someone who has told someone. It’s been about twenty minutes so…yeah, everyone.
Peyton pulls her phone from her pocket and presses a button.
A second later Scott’s voice comes across the line. “It’s early for trouble.”
“That’s not what you said in the shower this morning,” Peyton tells him.
“ Mom !” Harlow protests.
“I’m going to assume that Harlow is telling you what the hell is going on with her and Jefferson?” Scott asks, clearly having heard his daughter’s voice.
“You already heard?” Harlow asks. She doesn’t seem surprised.
None of us are.
“Well, Derek told me and Kyle that Jefferson announced to the bar last night that you’re seeing someone and then walked out. Then just now Melissa Stevens asked me how long you and Jefferson have been dating so yeah, I’ve heard.”
Derek Wright manages the Come Again and Kyle Ames is one of the town doctors. They’re also Scott’s best friends and the three of them get coffee every morning.Between the three of them, they hear as much gossip as the ladies at the hair salon and the old men at Dottie’s.
“What did you say?” Peyton asks.
“That it’s hard to keep track since we’ve known Jefferson all his life and he’s always been around.”
The four of us in the bakery all exchange impressed looks.
“That was pretty good,” Peyton tells her husband. “Not a lie but you didn’t give anything away.”
“Thinking on my feet is kind of part of the job,” Scott says.
“Makes you a good cop,” Peyton says with a grin.
“I meant the job of bein’ your husband, but yeah, it helps with the cop thing too,” he replies.
She just laughs. “Well, for the record, Officer Hansen, this one is all Harlow’s. Or Harlow’s and Jefferson’s. Not my idea.”
“You’re not discouraging it though,” Scott says.
“Well…no.”
“For the record,” Scott says, “I don’t like Zach Nelson either.”
Harlow’s eyes round in surprise. “Wow, you’re like a detective or something.”
“Damn right. You okay? Some reason you can’t just tell Zach to fuck off?” Scott asks.
Harlow‘s gaze meets mine again. She smiles. I return it.
There is something about being partners in crime with her that gets my heart beating a little faster.
“It’s more just for fun. Messing with Zach feels like revenge. I’m not too proud to admit that to you guys.”
“In that case, I’m glad it’s Jefferson,” Scott tells her.
She looks mildly surprised. “Why is that?”
“Because he’s probably the one guy who’s not too tightly wrapped around your finger. He can keep you out of jail.”
Her eyes are wide, and I cannot help my laugh.
“Thanks, Scott,” I comment so he knows I’m here.
Scott chuckles. “Just remember that’s my expectation, Jefferson.”
“Duly noted. If she commits any crimes, cover them up.”
Scott actually laughs a little harder. “Yep,” he says. “That’s exactly the energy I want from a boyfriend for one of my girls. I know it’s a lot to ask to keep her from committing crimes entirely. Though if you could do that, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
“Interestingly,” Peyton says. “We were just talking about how Jefferson would help Harlow hide a body.”
“I’m sure he would,” Scott, the cop , comments calmly. “If for no other reason than to have something to hold over her head.”
We all laugh at how closely his summation resembled what Harlow said.
And I’m not sure what that says about me, but I am looking forward to this week more all the time.
“So when people ask you about them,” Peyton says to her husband. “You can’t act surprised. You’ve known they’ve been dating for about three months,” she says, talking without looking at either of us. “But they kept it under wraps because they wanted to be sure it was something worth coming out about. Since it’s such a small town and they know so many people in common, they didn’t want it to be a big deal if it didn’t work out. But we, of course, have all known about it for at least two months. They successfully snuck around for about a month.”
Harlow straightens. “You think we’d only be able to sneak around for a month before you found out? Please .” She rolls her eyes. “If I wanted to hide something from you guys, I could keep it hidden for way longer than that.”
Peyton grins at her. “Oh, I have no doubt. But you fell madly in love with him in a month so you couldn’t keep it inside anymore. You just had to tell us about it.”
“I fell madly in love with Jefferson in a month ?” She glances at me. “I don’t think so. If anything, he fell madly in love with me. He was going to tell everyone, and I told him he had to keep it quiet and could only tell our families, if he just couldn’t keep it inside anymore.” She looks back at her mom. “And if we were madly in love, why wouldn’t we tell everyone? Why just you guys?”
“Well, we convinced you to take it a little slower,” Peyton says.
Then I laugh.
They all look at me.
“Really?” I give my mom a grin. “My parents fell in love in a weekend. And they’re telling me that I would have to take it slower? No way is that believable.”
My mom nods. “He has a point.”
“Well, I know something about having a guy gaga over me forever before I gave in,” Peyton says. “So I’m cool with the story that Jefferson fell really hard and fast, but Harlow made him wait to tell everyone.”
Yes, we all know the stories of how all the parents in our friend group got together. Scott apparently fell first and hard for Peyton and she made him work for it.
I shake my head. “No way. I want Zach miserable knowing that I have the girl he wants, but it doesn’t help me out to make this look like I had to work extra hard to convince her.”
Harlow crosses her arms and stares at me. “You don’t think I would be hard to get?”
I chuckle. “In general? Absolutely. For me? No way.”
“Really? Why is that?” she asks.
“Because I know you too well. I would be able to easily romance you. I know all your favorite things. I know all your friends. Your entire family. They all love me. In fact, if we ever decided to date, we’d go in knowing it was serious. We’ve already done all the get-to-know-you stuff. We already know all the good, the bad, the ugly. I know all the annoying things about you.”
“And vice versa,” she interjects.
I nod. “Exactly. If we ever decided to even go on a single serious date, it would be because we already decided we wanted to make this something more. So I don’t think it would take us three months to come around and tell everyone. I’d say the story should be that we've been officially together for about a month. Our families have known for most of that time.”
I can’t pull my gaze away from Harlow’s. I’m watching her digest everything I just said.
And she’s not denying any of it.
I hadn’t thought all of this through, I was just thinking out loud. But everything I just said is true.
“You’re right,” Harlow finally says. “That does make sense.” She takes a breath and looks at her mom. “How’s that sound?”
Peyton shrugs. “I’m sold.”
I glance at my mom. “Me too,” she says with a nod. “Makes total sense.”
“Got it,” Scott says from over the phone. “I’m keeping a tally of how many times I’m asked about this today. That’s how many caramels I expect to get tonight when I get home.”
My mom’s caramels are famous. But Peyton laughs. “You can’t have any extras. We’re barely keeping up with the demand as it is with the festival and all the extra people in town.”
“Then you’ll have to reward me some other way. You know I’m going to get asked about this more than you are.”
“I can’t wait to talk about it,” Peyton says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “But you know I’m always up for a good reward .”
“ Mom ,” Harlow groans. “Please.”
Harlow glances at me and I mouth ‘brat’.
Harlow actually laughs.
“We need to go fill our friends in,” I tell her. “They’re going to be getting a ton of questions too.”
She sighs. “Fine.” She bends behind the bakery case and slides two orange scones into a to-go package.
“I want blueberry, not orange,” I tell her.
She glances up. “I wasn’t getting you one.”
I shake my head. But watch as she slides a blueberry in with her two.
She also grabs a to-go cup of coffee.
“Vanilla latte,” I tell her.
“You do not want me to make you a latte,” she tells me, pouring her own coffee.
“You’re not good at it?”
“I will spit in it.”
I grin and move around the counter and in next to her to make my own latte. “See, there’s no way it would take more than a month for us to get serious,” I tell her, as I reach over her head, and very into her personal space, to reach the vanilla syrup.
“What do you mean?”
“I figure it would only take about thirty days for us to decide if we’d rather kiss or kill each other. Once we decide that, we’d be good to go. I would have no delusions about you being any kind of submissive, sweet, helpful girlfriend. You’d already know that I don’t need a submissive, sweet, helpful girlfriend. There would be no learning curve. No disappointments. You’d just be you, I’d be me, and we’d already know it all going in.”
She looks up at me, not trying to move away from me. I also keep my body very close to hers and just meet her gaze steadily, my arm still up.
Finally, she nods. “That’s a very good point,” she says. “Except…”
Of course there’s an except.
“Except?”
“I don’t think we’d need that long to decide on the kiss or kill thing.”
“How long do you think it would take?”
She actually looks me up and down. Our mothers can’t see the way her gaze tracks over me from the position we’re in, but I do. Definitely.
“Probably about forty-eight hours. Some of it would depend on how good a cook you are.” Then she turns away from me with her coffee and our scones and starts toward the door. “See you later,” she says to our moms.
And I’m left frothing my milk and wondering if it’s possible to decide in one day which of those things I’d rather do to her.
Or if it’s possible to want to do both equally.