Chapter Text
It was 7:52 on a Monday morning at the headquarters of Li & Co. Hospitality; most of the team had already been at their desks for twenty minutes, which said less about their work ethic and more about what happened when Mx. Li arrived and someone wasn't. Near the east windows, an associate was rearranging mockups for the Palm Springs property, still reacting to the set Mx. Li had sent back at 11 p.m on Saturday with a two‑word email: Try again.
Amidst the chatter of weekend plans and office gossip, the arrival of the elevator's ding sent a wave of panic rippling through the room.
"Oh shit, they’re here." someone hissed, and a flurry of activity ensued as papers were hastily shuffled and eyes were glued back to their screens.
Jordan Li stepped off the elevator in a charcoal suit, their sleeves cuffed once at the forearm and a platinum watch on their wrist. Their expression was set to a neutral so aggressively blank that it actually looped back around to threatening.
Benny (one of the new hires who was in the part of his tenure where enthusiasm was still possible to feel) intercepted them near the printer bay with a folder held flat against his chest.
"Mx. Li, good morning. I pulled the occupancy projections for Miami like you asked."
"I asked for nine months of projections." Jordan didn't slow down. "That folder seems rather thin."
"Right, yes. I included the first six months. The last three months are still being verified by analytics, but I thought you'd want to see what we have so far-"
"I don't recall asking for partial data, Benny."
"No, you didn't. I just thought-"
Jordan stopped walking and looked at him. Benny's mouth shut immediately. Their expression hadn't changed and that was always the worst part because there was never any visible frustration. Just a flat, appraising patience, like they were waiting to see if he'd keep going (Benny didn't).
Jordan took the folder and flipped it open one-handed, turning one page after another.
"Who ran these numbers?" They asked after a moment.
"Torres," Benny said.
“Well, tell Torres-” Jordan snapped the folder shut and held it out until Benny took it. “-these projections are so far off I'm not sure whether to schedule a performance review or a wellness check. Redo them. My desk by ten. And if they're incomplete again, don't bother knocking.”
Benny nodded, and Jordan was already walking three steps past him before he remembered he was allowed to breathe again.
Next on what could possibly be considered now Jordan’s list of victims was Mika, the office's perpetually flustered intern, who materialized at Jordan's side clutching a steaming cup with white knuckles. "H-here you are, Mx. Li," she squeaked, practically thrusting the beverage at her boss.
Jordan accepted the offering and brought the cup to their lips, inhaling the rich aroma. A split second later, the coffee arced through the air in a graceful parabola, splattering against the side of the trash can with a hollow thunk.
“I have no idea what you think is passable for my coffee order but whatever you think that was, was not it.” Mika visibly wilted as Jordan leveled her with an icy glare. "I'm going to walk into my office now. And when I sit down, I would like my coffee, my coffee waiting on my desk in the next 15 minutes. And if you cannot do this single, uncomplicated thing, I need you to tell me now so I can stop wasting both of our time."
The intern nodded once, so quickly it seemed she could’ve flung her head right off, and was gone before Jordan had finished turning away from her.
Jordan shook their head in disbelief at the sight. As they pushed open the heavy oak doors to their corner office, already mentally calculating how many hours they'd need to stay late to unfuck present and later disasters of the day, they were just looking forward to one quiet moment in their office.
However, the sight of a certain blonde at their desk told them that whatever peace they had been hoping for was just rejected.
"Get out of my chair."
"Good morning to you too." Cate didn't look up from her phone. "Rough morning?"
Jordan shot the blonde a withering glare over the rim of her coffee cup that they knew was already forming a stain on their table. "Hardly. Just another day of being surrounded by people who seem determined to test the limits of my patience." They waved a dismissive hand. "What do you want, Cate? I have a finite reservoir of empathy, and you're already operating in a deficit."
Cate's full lips curved into an infuriatingly smug smile. "Why, I come bearing great news, my dear friend."
Silent skepticism flashed in Jordan's gaze as they regarded the statement.
"Your dad wants your help for a small project," Cate continued.
Jordan felt the first faint prickle of trepidation, their grip tightening. "What sort of project?" They knew better than to trust that sugary tone.
"It appears we’re exploring opportunities to expand Li & Co. Hospitality’s reach," Cate announced, "We've experienced rapid growth in recent years, but Mr. Li is keen on extending beyond locations like New York and California."
"Just get to the point," Jordan growled, their patience rapidly wearing thin with their friend’s verbose approach.
"Oh have a little patience Jordan, I was getting there. Your dad wants to establish a permanent presence in the South, starting with Tennessee. Some backwater burg called Godolkin."
"Tennessee?" they choked out, feeling the cold tendril of dread snaking down their spine.
"The very same," Cate purred, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "And you, love, have been handpicked to oversee the initiation process."
"Absolutely not!" The words burst from Jordan's lips with such vehemence that even Cate reared back slightly. “What the hell does butt fuck of nowhere Godolkin even have to offer?”
But Cate was already shaking her head, that insufferable smirk playing about her lips once more. "Oh, come on. You'll simply go there to scout out the area and file a report on potential expansion opportunities.”
As those damning words echoed through their mind, Jordan felt the first faint symptoms of a migraine beginning to blossom behind their eyes. "Fine," they grounded out from between gritted teeth.
"Look on the bright side, Jordan. You've been running yourself ragged lately, maybe a working vacation is just what you need."
Slumping back in their chair, Jordan pinched the bridge of their nose and exhaled a long, slow breath. "Yes, because nothing screams relaxation like a business trip to the South, where the only edible option is deep-fried everything within a 500-mile radius."
Cate's grin was wide and entirely too smug for Jordan's liking.
"Whatever you say. Just try not to have too much fun amongst the backwoods rednecks and hillbillies, hmm?"
.°˖⋆ ℧ 𓃗 .°˖⋆𐚁
Jordan stepped out of the airport terminal, their designer attire stood out vividly amongst the sea of muted flannels, with their eyes glued to the screen of their phone in a futile attempt to maintain some semblance of familiarity. An aggrieved huff escaped their lips as a particularly overzealous cowboy nearly knocked them over in his haste. Of course, Cate must’ve relished the fact that their father had shipped Jordan off to the most remote, uncivilized corner of the country imaginable. Jordan could practically hear Cate's taunting laughter echoing in their mind.
Yet here they stood, under the scorching Tennessee sun, squinting against its harsh glare, and grappling with the realization that they had acquiesced without argument to their father's wishes. As they approached the pickup area, a red pickup truck came into view, and a stunning woman leaned against the driver's side door, holding a handwritten sign with "Jordan Li" scrawled across it. The woman wore a cowgirl hat, a plaid shirt tied at the waist, dark-washed jeans, and boots that radiated a ruggedness at odds with Jordan's polished big-city style.
The woman waved enthusiastically, her voice tinged with a slight country accent as she exclaimed, "Howdy there!"
Jordan's expression contorted in a mix of confusion and vague unease. "Do I know you and why are you greeting me?" they asked, their tone clipped and cautious.
"Oh I’m-" she began, only to be interrupted by a sudden commotion from the backseat of the truck.
"Marie! Is that them?" A tousled head poked up from behind the bench, revealing a young girl around nine years old. Her eyes were wide with unabashed curiosity as she took in Jordan's imposing form.
Jordan felt their scowl deepen as they stared at the interloper. "What is going on?" they demanded, turning a withering gaze back to the woman named Marie.
The woman sighed, shooting the girl an exasperated look. "Annabeth, I told you to stay put until I came and got you." Despite her chiding tone, there was an unmistakable warmth in her eyes as she regarded the child.
The girl shrugged, completely unrepentant as her attention remained fixated on Jordan. "I heard yelling. I wanted to see what was going on."
Marie’s gaze shifted back to Jordan. "I was instructed to pick you up and ferry you to the farmstead by the boss lady," she explained. "Clearly, she didn't clue you in on the details."
"No, no, there must be some mistake," Jordan insisted, "Cate assured me she had booked accommodations at a five-star hotel here for the project…"
The words trailed off as their eyes raked over Marie's worn attire and the ramshackle surroundings once more. Just what kind of opulent luxury resort could possibly exist here?
"Project? What do you mean by project?" The woman asked, clearly puzzled by Jordan's assertion.
Jordan felt the blood draining from their face as they absorbed the other woman's confusion with alarming clarity about the situation. "She...she wouldn't..." Jordan stammered, groping for some shred of plausible deniability, even as the sick certainty settled in their gut.
"You're telling me that Cate saw fit to strand me not just in some rural purgatory, but at the hands of a," Their gaze raked over Marie's distinctly unfashionable attire. "...local?"
The words dripped with contempt, but Marie merely shrugged, seemingly unruffled by Jordan's patent condescension. "Pretty much, yeah. My family owns and operates the Airbnb property Ms. Dunlap booked."
Jordan's laughter rang out, tinged with notes of disbelief and disdain. But as Marie merely cocked an eyebrow and waited patiently, the mirth slowly drained from Jordan's expression, replaced by a flicker of genuine fear and a simmering rage. Abruptly, they turned on their heel and strode a few paces away, fumbling in their pocket for their phone.
"Cate," they hissed into the receiver, the name dripping with accusation as the number connected. "You have precisely thirty seconds to explain why I'm being shipped off to some rural hellscape before I catch the next flight back to civilization."
The blonde’s throaty chuckle carried through the speaker. "Why, I told you it was a vacation you needed, babe! A much-needed break for our employees and your sake. You were seriously starting to scare our employees and the turnover rate has been astronomical lately."
"Are you insane?" Jordan hissed, their free hand clenching into a fist. "And you decided on middle-of-nowhere Tennessee? If you wanted to punish me, you could have just raided my Gundam collection instead!"
The responding peal of laughter made Jordan's eye twitch. "I've already arranged for you to stay at Moreau’s Ranch, some old antique family owned farmstead out in the country. Picturesque, I'm told."
Jordan wrinkled their nose in distaste. "You expect me to slum it in the same place where they raise chickens and cows?"
"It's been fully renovated and updated, I assure you." Jordan could practically hear the smirk in Cate’s voice. "I've paid for the whole month's stay and they've got all sorts of activities planned for you."
"A month?!" The screech that tore from Jordan's throat made a passing family jump. "You expect me to be stuck in this place for an entire month?"
"Hey, I could've made you go, but I didn't." There was a heavy sigh. "At least give it a chance before you condemn the entire experience, Jordan." A teasing lilt crept into Cate's tone. "You might actually enjoy getting in touch with your outdoorsy side for once. Plenty of fresh country air to clear your perpetual snit."
Jordan clutched the phone so tightly their knuckles turned white as they struggled to rein in their apoplectic rage. "The only side I'll be getting in touch with is my homicidal one if you don't arrange for my extraction from this redneck nightmare immediately..."
There was a distinct note of amusement in Cate's responding chuckle. "Oh no, it seems our call is being- d-d-disrupted, I don't think the signal here is- g-g-good!"
Jordan rolled their eyes as the unmistakable thumping bass line of a club track filtered through the speaker. "I can literally hear the music of whatever shitty club you found yourself in- and hey maybe this time, don’t end up on the news when you inevitably get caught drunk driving again?"
"That’s a low blow and it was only two times!" Cate retorted, "But whatever I have plans to actually have some fun, maybe you should try that for once Jordan. Do try to enjoy your...pastoral retreat. Who knows? You might end up riding some cowgirls instead of horses-"
The call disconnected with a sharp click with Cate’s laughter still ringing in their ears. Fuming, they pocketed their phone and straightened to their full imperious height as they whirled to face the source of their unexpected rural purgatory.
Marie, leaning casually against the battered red pickup truck, regarded them with an infuriatingly calm expression. The realization that the woman had likely overheard their entire heated conversation with Cate caused a fresh flare of irritation.
"You," they snapped, leveling an accusatory glare at the other woman. "If Cate paid you to act as my driver for this godforsaken trip, then you’re going to take me to the nearest decent accommodation. And by 'decent,' I mean somewhere that doesn't reek of manure."
To Jordan's immense annoyance, Marie didn't even bat an eyelash at their snarky tone. "Look, why don't you at least come to take a look at the property before you decide to go calling in the National Guard? If you really hate it that much, I can try and help you find alternate arrangements." Marie sighed exasperatedly and crossed her arms in front defiantly, "Plus, I'm pretty sure Annabeth’s gonna wet herself with excitement if you don't at least say hi."
Jordan eyed the rust-streaked vintage pickup with unmasked displeasure, their frown only deepening as they took in the vehicle's well-worn exterior. "You cannot possibly expect me to willingly set foot in that deathtrap on wheels," they scoffed.
Marie rolled her eyes, seemingly unperturbed by Jordan's haughty dismissal. "Listen, we can either continue this bickering about how much you despise every facet of this arrangement while blocking up the airport pickup lane, or you can quit your bellyaching and let me show you to the farmstead. Your choice."
For a long moment, Jordan seemed to seriously weigh their options, jaw tensing mulishly. But finally, with an aggrieved huff, they grabbed their luggage and stalked towards the truck's rear end.
Marie bit back a grin as she moved to open up the tailgate and help Jordan load their designer luggage into the truck's bed, taking care not to scrape or scuff the expensive-looking cases.
"Careful with that," Jordan started forward. "That luggage is worth more than-"
"Yeah, I got it. More than my truck." Marie loaded the last bag and slammed the tailgate. "You coming or not, City?"
Jordan opened their mouth to respond to the nickname, closed it, then yanked the passenger door open with visible disgust. The hinges screamed, Jordan looked like they wanted to scream back.
That‘s when the mysterious person from before popped up again. "Wow, you’re just like Marie said!" The nine-year-old's cowboy hat was sliding sideways, almost mimicking her own grin.
Jordan blinked, still processing the sudden appearance of a child. "Who is this?"
"My sister, Annabeth." Marie started the engine, which coughed twice before catching. "Annabeth, this is Mx. Snooty Manners Li, but they like to be called Jordan."
Jordan’s eyes narrowed slightly at the insult, but held back on a response.
Beaming, Annabeth tipped her hat in an approximation of a greeting. “Do you really work in a skyscraper? Have you seen any celebrities? Do people really eat tiny food portions there because Marie showed me a picture once and it looked so small-" she stopped abruptly, as something more urgent had just occurred to her, "-have you ever seen a cow up close?"
"I've seen cows." Jordan gripped the door handle as the truck hit a pothole.
"Where?" Annabeth's tone suggested deep skepticism.
"Driving past farms."
"That doesn't count! You have to pet them for it to count. Marie says you're staying for a few weeks so we can show you ours, and we got goats too! Have you milked goats before?"
"I don't think I’m qualified to."
"It's easy! Sometimes they lick you, but that just means they really like ya." Annabeth rummaged in her backpack and Jordan visibly tensed. "Want to see something cool? I caught it yesterday."
She pulled out a mason jar with something brown and hairy inside. Jordan pressed back against the door so hard it creaked.
"What the hell is that?" Marie shot Jordan a look for the language.
Annabeth held up the jar proudly. "It's Mr. Fuzzy, my tarantula. Want to hold him?"
"I think I’m going to have to politely decline." they barely croaked out, eyes too focused on the road so that they didn’t have to look at the creature in what they hoped was a tightly sealed jar.
"But he's friendly! Marie held him and she only screamed a little bit."
"I didn't scream," Marie replied immediately. "And put that thing away before Jordan jumps out of a moving vehicle."
Annabeth sighed dramatically but tucked the jar back in her bag. "City people are so weird about bugs."
Despite themselves, Jordan's mouth twitched slightly at the comment. From the driver's seat, Marie watched with amusement at the exchange play out in the rearview mirror.
"Mx. Li, you're gonna love it here!" Annabeth proclaimed, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as they must be drawing closer to the farmstead now, there were fewer buildings and more grass fields. "We used to rent out the farmstead a lot, but it’s been kinda slow. So it's real nice to have you stayin' with us!"
"And mom's super excited to meet you! She hasn't had a guest with us in forever." She suddenly grew a tad shy, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "With you around, she might make more of her yummy desserts. Her banana pudding is to die for, I swear on Mr. Fuzzy!"
Marie couldn't resist stealing a glance at Jordan, who was attempting to conceal their apprehension about potentially being inundated with sugary treats every night. "You seem to be warming up to the charms of small-town life already," she teased. Jordan's head whipped around, dark eyes narrowing at the gentle jibe, but the retort they had been gearing up for died on their lips when they caught sight of Annabeth watching them expectantly.
"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we...Miss Moreau, is it?" Jordan replied at last, tone turning ever-so-slightly wry rather than outright scathing.
"Marie is fine," she confirmed. "No need to stand on formality out here in the sticks."
The dusty pickup truck rumbled to a stop in front of the sprawling farmhouse, and Annabeth was practically vibrating with excitement in the backseat. "Can I show Jordan around the farm?" she asked eagerly, unbuckling her seatbelt before Marie had even put the vehicle in park.
Marie shot her a sideways glance, "I only agreed to let you tag along on the condition that you finish all your homework tonight, kid. That was the deal."
Annabeth deflated momentarily before perking up again. "But Marie, tomorrow's the last day before summer break! I don't have much left!"
"Hey, I'm not the one who's insane enough to assign homework on the final day," Marie countered with a shake of her head. "It's still a school night. You can show Jordan around tomorrow if you get your work done."
Resigned, Annabeth slumped back against the seat with a dramatic sigh. But her pout was short-lived as Jordan turned in her seat, gracing her with a small, surprisingly genuine smile.
"I truly appreciate the offer, Annabeth," they said, their tone far warmer than the usual clipped cadence they adopted. "But your sister is right. We wouldn't want you neglecting your schoolwwork on my account."
Annabeth's expression melted into sheepish acceptance. "Okayyyy…" she agreed with an emphatic nod. Scrambling out of the truck, she paused to doff her hat in a gesture of courtesy. "I'll just have to give you the grand tour tomorrow instead. Bye-bye for now!"
As Jordan prepared to follow Annabeth towards the house, Marie swiftly moved to intercept them by firmly locking the door, halting Jordan in their tracks.
"Listen here," she started, her tone serious. "I know you're used to your fancy things back in New York, and for folks like you, this is probably the last place you wanna be. Honestly, I don't care much for what your business is, but Ms. Dunlap paid for the full month and all expenses, so if you want a flight back to the city ASAP, be my guest."
Jordan's brow furrowed as they listened, their arms crossing defensively across their chest. But before they could interject, Marie continued.
"But Annabeth's been so excited about you staying with us, and she even came up with activities and things to show you around for the next few weeks." Marie's expression softened a hint of pleading in her voice. "I'm just asking you to stay for at least a week, and then you can pack up and go. That's all I'm askin'."
The two stared at each other, the tension palpable. Jordan's scowl deepened, and Marie braced herself for the inevitable rejection that was surely coming, with her counter-argumentsalready prepared when it happened so fast that Marie almost missed it. One second she was looking at Jordan's feminine features twisted in annoyance, and the next, broader shoulders filled out the same designer jacket, masculine jawline set in the exact same expression of disdain.
"What the fuck just happned?" Marie's voice pitched higher than she intended, involuntary jumping at the sight and slamming her head against the car roof.
Jordan raised one hand before she could get another word out, the gesture somehow managing to be both dismissive and weirdly elegant. "Four weeks," they stated simply, voice deeper.
Marie's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, her brain still trying to process what she'd just witnessed. "That's how long Cate booked me for this... experience, isn't it?" Jordan continued as if they hadn't just completely shattered the laws of biology right in front of her.
"Yeah, but you literally just-" Marie gestured wildly at all of them, still reeling.
"Then I'll stay for it." Jordan was already moving out of the truck and toward the tailgate, popping it open with more force than necessary. "Can't promise I'll enjoy a single second, but I'm here now, aren't I?"
Marie scrambled after them, grabbing one of the Louis Vuitton cases. "Okay, but seriously, how does that even work? Is it a conscious thing or does it just happen? Can you control when you switch? Does it hurt? Oh my god, do your clothes just automatically adjust because that jacket fits you perfectly both ways and that's actually insane cause I have a friend that could really use something like that."
"It's a conscious choice," Jordan muttered, hefting another bag and starting toward the farmhouse entrance. "And no, it doesn't hurt."
Marie struggled with the luggage as she tried to keep pace with their longer strides.”I didn’t even know you were a supe, no offense but Ms. Dunlap didn't mention any of this, she just said you were-"
"Cate probably didn't mention it because she loves her little surprises," Jordan cut her off, though there was something almost amused lurking beneath. "I guess we both can thank her for that later."
Marie readjusted her grip on the suitcase, mind still racing as they approached the front door. "So when you're in one form versus the other, is there anything different besides the whole looks thing? And how long have you been able to do this- actually, wait, that's probably a really invasive question, forget I asked. Sorry, I'm totally being weird about this, it's just genuinely the coolest fucking thing I've ever seen and-"
Jordan pushed through the farmhouse entrance and immediately went completely still.
The rest of Marie's rambling died in her throat as she watched their expression shift from barely concealed annoyance to awe that she knew they wouldn’t admit yet. She followed their gaze upward to the vaulted ceilings with their exposed wooden beams, the massive iron chandelier dripping with crystals that caught the afternoon light streaming through oversized windows. The living area sprawled before them with its leather sofas, rough-hewn tables, and a stone fireplace that took up nearly an entire wall.
Wandering further into the open-concept layout, they found themself in the kitchen area, where a vast iron-banded barrel suspended from the ceiling proudly proclaimed "Pride of the Farm" in bold lettering. As they peered out the windows, Jordan's breath caught in their throat. Stretching out before them was a verdant expanse of rolling fields, punctuated by a weathered wooden fence corralling a small herd of horses. In the distance, they could make out a traditional red barn and what appeared to be a small outhouse tucked away in the corner.
"This is..." Jordan's voice trailed off, and Marie watched with growing satisfaction as their carefully maintained mask cracked just a little.
"Not quite the hellhole you were expecting?" Marie supplied helpfully, unable to keep the smugness entirely out of her voice.
Jordan's jaw worked for a moment before they set down the luggages. "It's adequate."
The sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention back inside, where a woman in a flour-dusted pink polka-dot apron was bustling into the room, a warm smile lighting up her face.
"You must be Jordan!" the woman exclaimed, moving as if to envelop them in a welcoming embrace before catching sight of Jordan's subtly recoiling posture. "Oh! Apologies, I've been in the middle of baking. I'm Jackie, Marie's mother."
"I see," they replied stiffly, though their gaze couldn't help but be drawn back to the idyllic pastoral scene visible through the windows.
Sensing their discomfort, Jackie's smile softened as she followed Jordan's line of sight. "I know it's not much compared to the big city, but my husband and I spent years lovingly restoring this old farmstead after Marie was born. We wanted to give her and Annabeth a taste of the simple life we knew growing up."
With a grunt, Marie hauled the rest of Jordan's luggage through the front door, setting down the designer cases with a thud. "There you go, all your worldly possessions have arrived safely in the country.”
Jackie bustled over, dusting off her hands on her apron. "Why don't you show Jordan to their room, Marie? I'm sure they’ll want to freshen up after their long flight."
Marie nodded, jerking her head towards the staircase. "C'mon, your quarters await." As they ascended, Jordan couldn't help but notice the framed childhood photos lining the walls, chronicling Marie's growth from a chubby-cheeked toddler to a beaming preteen atop a pony.
Marie's shoulders tensed when she caught Jordan looking. "I told Ma to put those old embarrassing pictures away," she muttered.
"No, please," they insisted, leaning closer to study one particular image. "How else would I have learned about your clear prowess at...the pony race championships?"
Marie glanced back, following their gaze. "Yeah, that was a long time ago." She kept climbing, but her voice had gone softer like she was talking from further away than just a few steps up. "I was really into it for a while there. You know how kids get obsessed with things."
"You look like you were pretty good at it," they said, catching up.
Marie made a noncommittal sound, already pointing to another photo further up the wall. Her eyes brightened as they landed on a picture of Annabeth with her beaming proudly in front of their outhouse. "Actually, I've been giving this girl some riding lessons," Marie confided as they climbed the stairs, her boots thumping on the hardwood treads, "Gotta make sure she's ready to kick some serious butt in the junior competition at the county fair. You should join us for a practice session. It could be fun to see a city slicker like you try to hang with the country crew."
The two continued down the upstairs hallway before Marie pushed open a door, gesturing for Jordan to precede her into the sun-drenched bedroom. "This'll be your room for the time," she began, gaze flickering over the space as if about to launch into a detailed explanation.
But before she could get another word out, Jordan pivoted gracefully on one heel, effectively cutting Marie off as one hand came to rest against her chest. With a firm but gentle push, they guided Marie backward over the threshold until she found herself on the other side of the door frame.
"Thanks," Jordan murmured, lips curving into the barest hint of a smirk. "I've got it from here."
Marie blinked owlishly, momentarily stunned by the swift and seemingly effortless dismissal. "But I didn't even-"
The words died on her lips as the door swung shut with a decisive click, the thick wood mere inches from her nose. Instinctively, Marie's gaze dropped...and landed on a crisp $20 bill tucked neatly into the front pocket of her shirt.
"I'm not your damn bellgirl, you know!" she called out indignantly, yanking the offending cash-free and waving it at the unyielding barrier.
Her only response was the rich, sultry sound of Jordan's laughter drifting through the door, as warm and mocking as whiskey over rocks.
.°˖⋆ ℧ 𓃗 .°˖⋆𐚁
In the farmhouse kitchen, Marie lent a hand to Jackie as she busied herself setting the long dining table. The aroma of crispy fried delicacies wafted through the air, making Marie's stomach rumble in anticipation.
"Hey, those hush puppies look amazing," Marie remarked, reaching out to snag one of the golden-brown fritters. Her fingers had barely grazed the plate before Jackie's hand came swatting down with a playful smack.
"Hands off, young lady!" she chided with a mock-stern expression. "You know better than to ruin your appetite before Jordan joins us."
Marie pulled her hand back with an exaggerated pout. "Ma, that city dweller is gonna faint when they see the amount of fried food you prepared."
"Hush, this is delicious home cooking!" Jackie retorted. "And you know Jordan could probably use a few hearty meals after whatever fancy rabbit food they've been eating back in New York."
Before Marie could protest further, the sound of footsteps on the spiral staircase drew both their gazes. Marie's teasing rejoinder died on her lips as Jordan descended the stairs and came into the kitchen light.
Gone were the severe black power suits and polished shoes. Instead, Jordan cut an unexpectedly fetching figure in a simple black sweater paired with slim-fitting jeans. Even their hair seemed softer, falling in gentle waves around their face instead of being styled back like before.
Marie felt her throat go dry as molten eyes met hers from across the room. Snapping her gaze away, Marie cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, someone's looking cozy," she managed, at last, forcing nonchalance.
Marie's father ambled over to Jordan with a friendly grin. Taking off his oven mitts, he offered his hand in greeting. "Hey there I'm Malcolm, the town sheriff and proud papa of Marie and Annabeth. Mighty pleased to have ya as our guest."
Jordan accepted the proffered handshake. "Thank you for welcoming me into your home," they replied, their voice carrying a hint of reservationl.
Marie couldn't resist a quiet snort, prompting Jordan to whip their head around. Jackie immediately stepped in, giving Marie's shoulder a reprimanding slap. "Be nice," she chided mildly.
Turning his attention back to Jordan, Malcolm asked with genuine interest, "So how are you taking to small-town living so far? Quite a change of pace from the big city, I'd wager."
"It's certainly different," Jordan conceded after a momentary pause. Their gaze drifted appreciatively over the rough-hewn beams and artfully distressed decor. "But you have a beautiful home, and I appreciate the meal you’ve prepared tonight."
"Do you wanna sit next to me?" Annabeth interruped, eyes wide with hopeful invitation.
Jordan's features visibly softened as they regarded the young girl. "Of course," they agreed easily, allowing Annabeth to proudly lead them to the table.
Jordan surveyed the hearty spread before them with thinly veiled confusion, no doubt perplexed by the death of their usual refined meals. Marie could practically see the wheels turning in their head.
"Our neighbor brought in freshly caught cod this morning," Marie supplied helpfully, correctly interpreting Jordan's dubious expression. "Pa has an amazing recipe for the batter." She gestured towards a platter laden with golden-brown fillets. "And Ma makes the best fried green tomatoes."
"Fried...tomatoes?" they echoed, the very concept seeming to challenge their refined city sensibilities.
Malcolm and Jackie shared an amused chuckle at Jordan's bemused tone. "It's a Southern delicacy!" The woman assured them with an indulgent smile. "You'll see, they're surprisingly delicious."
Before Jordan could oppose further, Marie leaned over and bega portioning out generous servings onto their plate - hush puppies, fried cod, coleslaw, and yes, a hefty slice of the mysterious fried green tomatoes. Jordan eyed the selections warily, no doubt wondering if the only vegetable they were fated to encounter here would indeed be battered, fried, or slathered in mayonnaise-based sauces.
"What, you think we're going to let our fancy city guest go hungry?" Marie quirked a teasing grin before returning to her seat.
Jackie shot Marie a reproving look and gave her shin a firm kick beneath the table. Marie suppressed a wince, instead focusing on digging into her plate piled high.
All eyes turned expectantly toward Jordan as they eyed the fried delicacies before them with hesitation. After a moment that looked alot like mental preparation, they selected one of the fried green tomatoes and took a tentative bite. To the family's visible relief, Jordan's expression softened into genuine enjoyment as the flavors bloomed across their palate.
"It's wonderful, thank you," they admitted, offering Marie the briefest of approving nods.
Annabeth beamed at having won over their discerning guest so easily. "If you find that good, wait till you try Mom's peach cobbler!" she crowed excitedly.
The corners of Jordan's mouth curved into a restrained smile at the prospect of being made to consume even more sugary treats.
"Yum," they simply replied, the word laced with an undercurrent of wry amusement that didn't escape Marie's notice. She hid her grin behind a forkful of crispy hush puppies as the lively dinner conversation carried on around the well-laden table.
It seemed the prickly city dweller might just be capable of unbending enough to savor the simple pleasures of small-town life after all.