Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
JACKSON
We’re going to be late.
A quick glance at my watch proves we’re already late. It typically wouldn’t matter all that much, given how many extra hours we both spend at the inn, but we’re supposed to be having a staff meeting this morning.
“Ellison, we’ve gotta go.”
“Almost done,” Meyer says. She tries to pull a muffin out of the hot tin and accidentally touches the metal around the edge. “Ow, fuck.”
She tries again, getting the same result. I frown. “Are you sure you don’t want help?”
She raises a brow as she looks at me. “You do remember what happened when we made Cherie’s pie, don’t you? You and baking don’t mix, Hotshot. You and kitchens don’t mix.”
When I caved and told her about the kitchen staff banishing me from the restaurant a couple weeks ago, she couldn’t stop laughing. So then I had to find a creative way to shut her up. She didn’t complain .
I shrug. “We had a chef when I was growing up. I never had to learn.”
She finishes packing the muffins for transport and then rounds the island. She pats my cheek affectionately. “Oh, you poor little rich boy.”
I take the muffin container from her before she can protest. Then she locks up her cottage and we walk down the gravel path toward the inn.
I can tell by the way Meyer keeps wringing her hands in front of her that she’s nervous. It was her idea to tell the staff today, but it’s clearly weighing on her.
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” I offer. “It can wait.”
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t want to keep secrets. I’m only a little nervous.”
I stop, taking hold of her hand in mine. “What are you nervous about?”
She frowns. “That people are going to judge me. That they’re going to think I’m only with you to get what I want with the inn.”
“If they think that, then they don’t know you at all.”
Chewing on her lower lip, she shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“I do,” I say. “If they were really paying attention, they would know you get your way with the inn whether we’re sleeping together or not.”
She rolls her eyes. “Like you haven’t made changes.”
“That you agreed to. Eventually.” I squeeze her hand. “In case I haven’t made it abundantly clear, I understand and respect how much Dog Days means to you, Meyer. I only have your and the inn’s best interests at heart. ”
Her gaze softens. “You have made that clear. I just didn’t really want to listen before.”
“And now?”
Her nose wrinkles. “Now I can be persuaded to hear you out.”
With an amused shake of my head, I tug on her hand, and then we’re heading for the front door of the inn. When we make it there, I turn to Meyer.
“Ready, baby?”
Slowly, she nods. “Ready.”
She goes to take another step, but I wrap an arm around her waist, tugging her against me. Her hand lands on my chest as she steadies herself.
I lower my mouth to hers, and she meets me halfway, melting into the kiss.
“What was that for?” she asks when we pull apart.
I grin. “Just because.”
Her answering smile is breathtaking. There was a time, not all that long ago, that she refused to smile at me, and now she gives them away freely. The thought makes something expand inside my chest.
Everyone packs into the restaurant before opening, just as they do every time we hold a staff meeting. I walk the muffins around the room. Since that first meeting I attended, I haven’t brought any of my own competing baked goods.
Once everyone has had their fill, we get down to business.
“Thank you for coming,” I say. “We appreciate it.”
“Did we have a choice?” Marsaili jokes.
“No,” I reply, “but I like to give you the illusion that you do. ”
That earns me a laugh, from everyone except for Meyer. She’s standing blank-faced beside me, trying not to let her worry show. I touch a hand to the small of her back, encouraging her.
“The reason we called you here today is because we have something we wanted to tell you,” she says. She inhales deeply, steeling herself, before she continues. “Because of the nature of our partnership, it didn’t feel right to keep this from you. We want to be transparent. That said, I want you all to know that Jackson and I are…in a relationship.”
There is a moment of stretched silence, and then a collective cheer rises through the room. I spot Pippa grinning amidst the crowd, which mirrors the expressions on everyone else’s faces.
I can practically feel the relief that sweeps through Meyer. She was truly worried for nothing. These people love her.
“About damn time,” someone says.
“I knew it!”
“Dibs on planning the wedding!” Ashley calls.
Meyer’s cheeks flame as she glances shyly at me and then back to Ashley. She laughs awkwardly. “We’re a little far off from a wedding, Ash,” she says.
“That's okay,” Ashley replies. “I can be patient.”
Meyer covers her face with her hands, embarrassed, but I just grin. I could see it one day. We only just got together, so Meyer might get sick of me before then, but I can’t deny I like the idea of it.
“Was that all?” Marsaili asks. “You two had us scared half to death, thinkin’ you were sellin’ the place or something. ”
Meyer laughs. “Sorry we scared you. I promise that selling is not in the cards.”
The older woman nods. “Better not be.”
We still have a while before the restaurant officially opens, so we all spend some time chatting and catching up. Now that we’re in the thick of summer, our days are plenty busy, so it’s hard to talk about anything not strictly related to the job.
When my phone buzzes, I take a step away from the group and pull it out of my pocket. A notification from the security cameras I had installed at Meyer’s cottage lights up my screen. Worry settles low in my gut as I click on the tab.
When the camera feed comes up, my spine stiffens. There’s someone walking around the outside of the cottage. I can’t see their face, but I have a bad feeling. With everything stacking up these last few months, this can’t be a coincidence.
“Hey, Hotshot,” Meyer calls. My eyes stay glued to the camera feed as she comes up beside me. “Jackson?”
She touches my shoulder to get my attention, but she soon gets distracted by my phone screen. I barely hear her gasp. Her hand wraps around my arm, clinging to me as we watch. We should probably do something—call the police. But I feel frozen in place.
Then a new notification pops up, telling us the motion-sensor security alarm was triggered.
“Oh my God,” Meyer says. She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears.
My jaw clenches. No need to call the police now—they should already be on their way thanks to the security company .
“Fish,” she gasps.
“Meyer, wait?—”
But she’s already gone, racing out of the restaurant.
I curse as I follow after her, through the inn and out the front door. She flies down the gravel path leading to her cottage, and cold dread slithers through me at what she might find. Who she might find.
I manage to catch up with her just before her feet hit the front porch. Looping an arm around her waist, I draw her to a halt.
“Let me go,” she demands as she struggles. “Jackson, let go!”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that, baby. I’m not letting you go in there until the police have cleared it.”
She fights me, trying to force me to release her. “What about Fish? What if he gets hurt?” she cries.
My heart cracks open. I know how much the cat means to her, but she means everything to me. I’m not risking it. Whoever tripped the alarm could still be prowling around outside. Worse, they could be inside, just waiting for Meyer to come home.
“Fish is probably hiding like he always does. We’ll get him as soon as everything is safe, I promise,” I reply, gentle pulling her back toward the inn.
I can hear sirens in the distance and the chatter of our staff. They’re spilling out of the inn now, no doubt curious why Meyer and I ran off without an explanation. Pippa pushes through the crowd, meeting us halfway down the path.
“What happened?” she asks .
I look down at Meyer. Her lip trembles as she sucks in a steadying breath. I tuck her closer against my side, and she hides her face against my chest.
“Someone was lurking around the cottage, and then they tripped the alarm,” I explain. “We watched it happen on the cameras.”
There’s pure fear in Pippa’s eyes, but she quickly blinks it away and lays a comforting hand on Meyer’s arm. And then we wait.
The police arrive shortly after, and they head straight for the cottage. They instruct us to wait inside the inn, so I guide Meyer to one of the chairs in the lobby. She clings to my hand, not allowing me to let go. Not that I would. I’m not going anywhere.
It seems like hours pass before one of the constables comes to retrieve us. I keep holding Meyer’s hand as we follow him back outside.
“I know this isn’t easy to think about,” Constable Reyes says, “but we need to go over this. Can you tell me what happened?”
I relay what I saw on the cameras, and I pull out the footage to show him what I’m talking about.
Constable Reyes grimaces. “It looks like a rock was thrown through the side window into the living room,” he explains. Meyer’s grip tightens on my hand. “There was a note attached.”
He holds a piece of paper toward us.
I warned you , it says.
“It’s a reminder,” Meyer says. “Of the spray paint on the wall. Now this. ”
“Reggie?” I ask.
Constable Reyes shakes his head. “We finally tracked him down. He’s been sleeping on his cousin’s couch down in Scarborough. He wasn’t in Fraisier Creek when any of the incidences occurred, including the vandalism.”
My heart stops, and Meyer stiffens beside me. If Reggie wasn’t involved in any of it…then who was?
“We’ll have to hold this scene for a while to gather any evidence they left behind,” the constable continues.
“Can I go inside?” Meyer asks. “I won’t touch anything, I just need to find my cat.” Her voice cracks, threatening tears. “Please.”
He hesitates, but the desperation in her eyes wins out, and he nods. “Just the cat. If you need anything else, make a list and one of the other constables will get it to you.”
With a quick nod, Meyer is up the porch steps and through the open front door. I follow close behind. Like hell am I letting her out of my sight right now.
After a cursory glance through the living room and kitchen, we decide Fish isn’t there. With all the commotion, he’s likely at the back of the house. We head for Meyer’s bedroom next.
We check the laundry baskets first, his preferred place to sleep, but they’re empty. Then Meyer lowers herself to the floor and peers under the bed.
With a relieved cry, Meyer reaches underneath and pulls Fish out from his hiding spot. The cat lets out a perturbed meow, but he doesn’t struggle in her arms. He lets her crush him against her chest, almost like he senses that Meyer needs this right now .
I can feel Meyer shaking. “Hey, you’re safe,” I say, placing a hand on her back. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not scared right now, I’m fucking angry .” When she looks up at me, her blue eyes are blazing. “This has to stop.”
“I know, baby.” With my arm around her, we exit her bedroom. “We’ll figure it out.”
I’m not sure how, but we will. Because Meyer is right. We can’t keep living like this, wondering when this sick person will strike next. Constantly looking over our shoulders.
Not to mention, this could be detrimental to the inn. If word gets out to tourists about the shit that’s been happening, they aren’t going to want to stay here, and I wouldn’t blame them.
This has to end.