Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
MEYER
I haven’t been alone in five days.
Ever since Jackson and Wells found those photos of me, I’ve always had someone around, whether it be Pippa, Declan or Jackson. I’m convinced the three of them have been colluding together, determined not to let me know a moment of peace.
I know they care, but I need to get back to my normal life at some point. I can’t operate in this constant state of fear forever. The police have their evidence, so all I can do is be cautious as I try to live my life.
It’s hard when my business partner is acting unusual, though.
“You’re being exceptionally clingy today,” I say as I shut the passenger door of Jackson’s Audi.
He has the audacity to look confused. “I’m not being clingy.”
I give him a flat look. “You all but got to your knees and begged to come with me to see my mom. ”
At this, he smirks. “If you want me on my knees, Ellison, all you have to do is ask.”
I scoff. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when I ask that of you.”
“I’ll pack layers.”
I shake my head and pick up my pace. He matches my stride with ease, and he even holds the door to Mom’s apartment building open for me.
We make it to the elevator in silence. As the car climbs to the seventh floor, my jaw clenches.
“Okay, seriously,” I demand, whirling on Jackson, “what’s going on? You’re acting weird.”
He narrows his eyes. “I want to put a better security system in place at the inn, including more cameras,” he finally admits. “At your cottage, too.”
Some of the fight leaves me. “Okay… Where is this suddenly coming from?”
He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I’ve been thinking about it since the whole spray paint incident. Especially since I found those pictures.” His lips quirk as some mirth reenters his expression. “But someone has a tendency to jump down my throat when I suggest making a change, so excuse me for being a little nervous to bring it up.”
I shove at his shoulder. “We both know you’ve never had an issue with getting under my skin.”
“You do make it rather easy.”
I roll my eyes.
“So the cameras,” he says. “Are we agreed?”
I nod. “We’re agreed.”
A new system has been on my wish list, a dream for sometime in the distant future, but with everything that’s happened, waiting is a luxury I can’t afford.
Jackson nudges my shoulder with his. “Look at us, making a joint decision. I think that’s our first.”
I fight my smile. “Don’t bring attention to it. If I think about it too long, it’ll make me nauseous.”
Jackson chuckles, and the sound causes this weird fluttering feeling to emerge low in my stomach. The sensation is foreign—it’s been a long time since someone has given me butterflies. It’s a cruel twist of fate that this someone just so happens to be the business partner I love to hate.
As soon as those elevator doors slide open, I stride into the hall. I need to get as far away from him as possible. The close proximity is messing with my brain. Yeah, that’s it. It’s toxic being too close to him.
“Before we go in there, I just want to make something clear,” I say, looking over my shoulder at Jackson. “Whatever you say, do not bring up the vandalism or the pictures.”
His brows furrow. “You’re not going to tell her?”
“Not if I can help it. She doesn’t need that kind of stress.” I raise a brow. “Understood?”
He nods, albeit reluctantly. I know he doesn’t truly understand, but he doesn’t have to. He just has to respect my decision.
My mother’s apartment is the last one on this floor. I don’t bother knocking, I just let myself in.
“Honey , I’m home!” I call.
Voices carry from the living room to the entryway as I toe off my shoes. Jackson does the same. Today, he’s actually dressed in casual clothes. Flip flops included.
I almost fell over at the sight of those flip flops.
“Nice place,” Jackson says with an approving nod.
“Yeah,” I agree, turning over my shoulder as I walk toward the voices, “that’s why it costs me an arm and a?—”
“ His huge cock rams home. In and out, and in and out. My inner walls flutter as he stretches me to the max. The sound of skin slapping skin is erotic …”
My jaw hits the floor. Sitting in my mother’s living room is her book club. Here I was, thinking they individually read their books and then discussed their plots over tea. Little did I know they hold smut read-alouds.
“Meyer,” Mom says when she sees me, “I wasn’t expecting you.”
I clear my throat. “I can see that,” I reply. I gesture to my companion, who is shaking with restrained laughter. “We had a free afternoon, so I thought I’d bring Jackson by. But you’re busy…”
My mother claps her hands. “Alright, ladies, pack it in. We can meet again tomorrow. Same time, same place.”
At Mom’s command, a group of old ladies rocking perms and near identical floral grandma sweaters begin to filter out of the room. Each woman holds a book in her hand, the cover showing off the naked chest of a kilted man.
“Meyer, good to see you, dear!” one of the women says.
I offer her an awkward smile. “Good to see you, too, Georgia.”
Her gaze slides to the man standing beside me. “Is he your lover?” she whispers rather loudly, pointing at Jackson.
I shake my head with a scoff. “ No . He owns Dog Days Inn with me.”
“Oh.” She frowns. Then her eyes drag down Jackson’s body appreciatively. “He’s handsome . You better get on that, dear, or someone else might just snap him up.”
She fluffs her perm, and I grimace at the older woman. “Have a nice day.”
She walks away, and I shiver. Jackson, however, seems to be all too amused.
“Georgia’s a peach,” he drawls.
I send him my best look of contempt, to which he simply laughs.
Once my mother’s book club has exited the apartment, Jackson and I sit down in the living room. Mom’s in her recliner, so I make sure to sit as far away from Jackson on the couch as possible.
“I hope my daughter isn’t giving you too much grief, Jackson,” she says.
My mouth pops open. “Hey!”
Jackson grins. “She certainly gives me a run for my money, but it’s not totally unjustified,” he tells her. “Sometimes I need reminding that not everything is a problem that needs to be fixed.”
Oh .
Mom’s smile is soft in return. “How are you liking Fraisier Creek?”
Jackson relaxes further into the couch. Making himself at home in my mother’s presence. Something about that stirs a warmth inside me.
Indigestion. It's just indigestion .
“It’s a huge change of pace from the city. I’ve lived in Toronto all my life, so it was jarring to move here, to say the least.” His eyes flick in my direction briefly. “I think it agrees with me, though.”
Mom has that look in her eyes that screams, I’m about to meddle . I know the look well. So I blurt out the only thing I can think of.
“So…huge cocks, huh?” Both my mother and Jackson look at me, blinking. My cheeks flame. “The book club,” I croak. “You guys read smut. Out loud.”
At this, Mom laughs. “Oh, that . We didn’t for the longest time, but Doris suggested we try it one day and we found it’s kind of fun. You should come sometime!”
Jackson coughs into his fist, but I know he’s trying to cover up a laugh. I cast a dirty look in his direction before turning back to my mother.
Tugging at the collar of my shirt, I say, “I think I’m okay. Thanks, though.”
Sitting in the same room as my mother while she and her friends read fictional sex scenes aloud is not what I would consider a good time. Mom and I are close, but not that close.
She shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
“Anyway.” I forcefully try to pivot the conversation. “I just wanted to come see how you’re doing.”
“She begged me to come with her,” Jackson adds.
I throw him another dirty look. Mom glances between us, that same meddling glint in her eye, but then she settles on me.
“Oh, I’m perfectly fine. I’d like to hear about you, though. Why didn’t you tell me about the vandalism?”
I should have known she would find out. She may not live in Fraisier Creek anymore, but she has more connections than a politician’s nepotism baby. There’s hardly anything I can successfully hide from her.
I sigh, deflated. “Because I didn’t want you to know.”
She frowns. “Just because I’m not there to handle the day-to-day things doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what’s going on. You can always talk to me. You know that.”
My mother chastising me isn’t anything new, but the guilt making a home inside me is. I don’t keep things from her. But every time I tried to pick up the phone, I chickened out. Then I was in too deep and decided not telling her was the best option.
I eye Jackson. He seems to pick up on my silent cue, standing from the couch.
“I’m just going to step outside for a minute,” he says. “I have a call to make.”
Once the front door shuts behind him, I turn back to my mom. “I was scared you would be disappointed in me,” I admit quietly.
Her brows furrow, which causes the lines on her forehead to deepen. “Disappointed in you? Why would I be disappointed in you?”
“As soon as I take control of the inn, something like that happens?” I scoff. “The inn means so much to you, and I let it get vandalized . I’d be disappointed in me.”
Mom sits forward, turning fully to face me. “Meyer Ellison, you knock that off right now. I’m honestly a little offended that you think I’m that unreasonable.”
I shake my head. “No, Mom, I just…” I look down at my hands in my lap. “I really want to make you proud. ”
“My girl,” she says, “I’ve been proud of you since the moment I found you.”
My mother has always given her love freely. She’s never given me a reason to doubt her. But there has always been this part of me, this voice inside my head, that tells me I’m not good enough. That I need to be better if I want her to keep loving me. It’s part of why I try so hard with the inn.
I stare at my hands in my lap. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Guilt gnaws at me. Now is the perfect opportunity to tell her about what Jackson found, about the pictures. But I don’t.
I gave the police my statement, and now I just want to move on. Forget it happened. Maybe that’s not the smart thing to do, but the inn is my priority right now.
“I forgive you. Now, tell me,” she says, raising a brow, “how are things really going with Jackson?”
“They’re…good,” I reply reluctantly.
Jackson was right the other day. I kind of hate admitting when I’m wrong, and maybe I was a little bit wrong about him. Although I still resist change, I can admit that some of his suggestions haven’t been terrible .
Mom hums. “Glad to see your pride isn’t getting in your way.”
My nose scrunches. “My pride doesn’t get in my way.”
She pats my arm placatingly. “You forget I’ve known you for twenty-five years, my prickly pear. There isn’t much you can get past me.”
Rolling my eyes, I admit, “It was a little rough at first. I…may have been a little stubborn. But things are going smoother now.”
This makes her smile, and she reaches over to pat my knee. “Good. That’s exactly what Cherie wanted.”
“She truly wanted us to be partners?” I know I wasn’t open to hearing this when Jackson first came to town, but I’ll admit I am curious now.
Mom nods. “She did. She was worried about Jackson and all the time he was dedicating to his work in the city. She thought this would be a much more suitable position. For a couple reasons.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Not this again. Jackson and I are business partners, yes, but that is the only kind of partnership you’ll be getting out of us.”
Mom throws up her hands in surrender, the picture of innocence. “I didn’t even say anything this time.”
I go to say more—to tell her how ridiculous the idea is—but Jackson reenters the room. My lips snap shut, and I send my mother a look. One that tells her not to open her big mouth. I don’t need Jackson getting any kind of silly ideas.
“So,” he says when he sits down again. “I’m curious. Tell me more about this book club.”
Mom grins, and I groan, wishing I could melt into the couch. Bringing Jackson here was a bad idea. Involving him in more aspects of my life beyond the inn will only end in disaster. But judging by the way he fits so effortlessly, I have a feeling it’s too late.
I’m screwed.