Bernie’s Town
Jordy
Ashton sticks around while I sketch ideas on my tablet, experimenting with colors for the shop.
He’d asked if it was okay, and I’d shrugged like it was no big deal.
But inside, I’m relieved to have him here.
The picketers outside are getting louder, their voices an unsettling backdrop.
Having Ashton close—chasing a squealing Lottie around the empty space—is both comforting, and admittedly, a little entertaining.
But more than that, I feel an unexpected closeness to him—protective, even. Maybe because he let his guard down, sharing so much with me when we’re still practically strangers, or maybe because he’s the only one who took me in last night when no one else would.
Honestly, though? Just these few hours with him, and I’m realizing just how kind Ashton is; a wonderful dad to Lottie, still close to his ex’s parents, and even after everything Sasha has done to him, after all the ways she’s wronged him, he still reserves some grace for her.
I don’t understand it, but some part of me clings to that forgiving nature—because, whether I like it or not, I’m going to need it. This town hates me. Sasha may have been the one who started this mess, and Ashton and the Felixes finalized it. But I’m the easy target.
Not that I enjoy being the scapegoat for their family drama, but I’m a temporary resident of Lahoma Springs. I’ll be gone in a few weeks. Ashton and the Felixes are here forever … and the only ones who have been nice to me in this whole town.
If taking the brunt of the town’s anger means they get to dodge some of it, well … I suppose I can take the bullet with a tight smile.
I shut my laptop and push to my feet, brushing the dust off my ridiculous sunflower jeans. The fact that I’m still wearing that bitch’s clothes just about kills me.
“All right,” I announce, “I’m tapped out for today. Time for plan B—finding somewhere to stay. Any ideas? Airbnb? Couch Crashers dot com?”
Ashton scoops up Lottie before she can bolt, expertly tucking her into the stroller and handing her a sippy cup before she even has the chance to protest. It’s so smooth, so second nature, that I catch myself staring.
I’ve never thought of myself as someone who was impressed by parenting, but I have to admit it’s a skill—and Ashton has it down.
“We could ask Bob and Bec if you could stay in Sasha’s old room,” he says, buckling Lottie in. “Bec already offered.”
I snort. “Yeah, I’ll pass on that.” Staying in Sasha’s bed, in Sasha’s house, while wearing Sasha’s clothes? Hard no. “What else you got?”
He hesitates, then says, “You can stay with me.”
I freeze for half a second. I mean, it’s an option. It’s convenient. Close to the store. Hassle-free.
So tempting…
But I’ve already taken more than enough hospitality from this family. They owe me nothing, and the last thing I want is to feel like I owe them anything back.
“I’ll just stay here,” I say, sweeping my hands to indicate this huge, empty building. “There’s electricity, a bathroom, and a heater, plus a whole street of restaurants.” Restaurants that won’t serve me, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“And a cushiony spot on the concrete floor while the whole town watches you sleep from the windows.” He rolls his eyes.
“Come on, Jordy. My house is big enough for the three of us. Plus, you’d get to enjoy Bec’s home-cooked meals.
Which yes, I eat almost every single night, and you should too. Do you really want to say no to that?”
There are plenty of reasons to say no—starting with the fact that he’s already done so much for me. I can’t take more of his generosity.
Plus, he smells so fucking good…
No. Nope. Absolutely not. I did not just think that about him.
No way am I getting snowed in by his charm and hospitality. No way am I letting myself admire his solid jawline, his broad shoulders. No way am I inhaling his scent after he works the fields all day. And absolutely no way am I entertaining the thought of tasting the salt on his skin…
No. Fucking. Way.
I can’t stay with him because I know myself. I’ll get too wrapped up in how much I want him, and it will make me forget my number one rule: no dating guys with kids.
I’m already struggling to ignore the way he looks at his daughter. How he treats her—not as an interruption, but as an addition to everything he does. How happy Lottie is, even without a mom, because Ashton and her grandparents have created a life where she’s safe and wanted.
I’ve never known what that feels like. And I want to.
“I don’t want to burden you,” I say.
Ashton shakes his head. “You wouldn’t be a burden. If anything, this is my way of making it up to you. The way this town treats you is my fault, and I’ll tell everyone as much if it gets them off your back.”
“Don’t do that.” The words are out before I can stop them. But I mean it. “Bec and Bob have been through enough. You too. And Lottie. I’m just a temporary citizen here to do a job before I leave again. It doesn’t matter if they hate me.”
It really doesn’t—I’m not here forever. But I also do need a place to stay, and arguing with him was getting us nowhere.
“Fine, I’ll stay with you.” I try to ignore the flutter in my chest when his face lights up in a grin.
“And I won’t tell these people anything that’s not their business, even if your ex is a piece of shit.
” I glance outside, noting that the picketers are still going strong.
It makes me furious just seeing them. I want nothing more than to go out there and give them a piece of my mind.
But they already have a vendetta against me, and acting out my rage isn’t going to help.
I turn back to Ashton. “If I’m going to get anything done here, I need to clear out these protesters. Will you back me up?”
He points the stroller towards the door, then nods in its direction.
“Let’s get to it,” he says.
I march to the front door, unlock it, and stride straight to the center of the picketers’ slow-moving circle.
“Listen up,” I call out, planting my feet. “I get that you’re angry, and that you want someone to blame. But blocking the entrance is not going to change what happened.”
“You’re the one changing our town,” a man shoots back. “You and whoever you work for.”
I narrow my eyes at him, feeling the agitation rise in me as the others murmur around him. “I was hired to do a job,” I point out. “I didn’t buy this place, and I didn’t sell it either. But you’re sure as hell making me the villain because it’s easier than facing facts.”
“There’s freedom of speech laws, lady,” another one calls. “We can protest wherever we want.”
“Sure,” I say, “but the law also says you can’t obstruct a place of business, and my boss has lawyers. So unless you’re ready to get sued for trespassing, I’d rethink this little stand-off.”
A few of them shift uneasily, but a woman in the front steps onto the street and spread her arms wide. “Then we’ll just move to the road.”
Before I can fire back, Ashton’s voice cuts through the tension. “Jordy is not the bad guy here.”
All eyes shifts to him, including mine. Lottie sits in her stroller, her juice forgotten as she stares wide-eyed at the crowd. I have this momentary urge to stand in front of her, shielding her from all the negative energy this crowd is directing our way.
“She’s an independent contractor,” Ashton continues, his voice steady. “She didn’t make the decision to sell. I did, and the Felixes did.”
“Ashton,” I murmur, but he doesn’t stop.
“I understand your frustration. You loved The Till. I did too. But there wasn’t another choice.”
“You could have talked to us,” the woman in the street snaps, though her tone is lighter than it was with me.
“We could have done a lot of things,” Ashton admits. “But what’s done is done. Taking it out on Jordy won’t bring The Till back. And whether you shop here or not, this new store is coming. Protesting won’t change that.”
A beat of silence passes, and I feel it in my static breath. I hate that I’m nervous, that I even care enough about their response to be nervous.
“We won’t spend a dime here,” the woman finally says. I breath out as a murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd.
“That’s fine,” Ashton says. “But let Jordy do her job. She’s not the one you’re mad at.”
The crowd continues their grumbling, casting a few sideways glances at us as they disperse. I turn to Ashton, feeling my shoulders lower as I let down my guard. My whole body loosens, making me realize how tightly wound I’ve been.
“I can’t believe that worked,” I mutter.
Ashton nods, blowing out a rush of air before shooting me a crooked grin. “Me neither.”
“Want to try that on Bernie at the hotel?”
He shakes his head. “Bernie is a tough nut to crack. I think she tolerates me only because of Lottie. But she’s obviously dug her heels in about this, and when she digs her heels in about something, there’s really no way of turning her around.
” He bumps my shoulder then, giving me a side grin.
“Besides, you’re about to stay at Chateau Elliot, run by yours truly. You really want to turn that down?”
No, I really don’t, though I should. The way his smile is making my butterflies do somersaults, I should run the other way. But the thought of sharing space with him for weeks on end makes this whole chaotic shitstorm worth it.
“Guess you have a new roommate,” I say, bumping him back.
I spend the rest of the afternoon in a nearby coffee shop, amending sketches to fit the space while Ashton takes off so that Lottie can take her nap. The shush of the coffee machine and the burst of caffeine in my veins helps me transition from the chaos of this morning back into work mode.