Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
ZOEY
I park my car on Main Street, not too far from Rosie’s café.
I’ve been in Pine Falls for four days, consulting with my team virtually in preparation for tomorrow’s town hall meeting, as well as uncovering all there is to know about the town and its population.
I got a rental car and cell coverage, spent some time with Rosie at the coffee shop, and took a trip out to the lot we’re considering purchasing.
But I have yet to explore the town properly.
So today, I’m in tourist mode. I’ve got Rosie’s recommendation list in my pocket, with all the places I can’t miss for the full “Pine Falls experience.”
And this time, I’m prepared. Yesterday, I bought a pair of cute boots, some leggings, wool sweaters, more technical clothes (ew), and a hat in case—god forbid—it snows.
The good news is that I officially blend in perfectly with this outdoorsy town, dressed in nothing but hiking gear, looking like a Patagonia Ambassador.
The bad news is that I miss my designer clothes and my heels.
But let’s be real: I’d never get a slice of approval from the locals in the outfits I love. I’d be branded as a spoiled, rich city girl, blitzing through the town, salivating over the prospect of owning it.
Can’t have that.
On top of that, the streets of Pine Falls are mostly made of cobblestone. Sure, it gives the town its charm, but it’s also the mortal enemy of every shoe in my expansive collection.
If only my dad could see me now. Maybe I’ll snap a picture and send it to him later. It’s strangely satisfying, the thought of him grumbling and scolding me about wearing “sloppy clothes” to a work function.
But like this, I don’t feel so much like an outsider anymore.
And all the self-doubts that consumed me in the tub that first night have melted away. I’ve put my focus on what I do best: work.
Well. Almost. Like 95 percent work. The other 5 percent is dedicated to a tall, long-haired man.
Fine. Eighty-twenty.
… Sixty-forty. But not more.
Every time I moved through the hallway this week, my body heated, and memories from that night rushed back to me. The way he held me against the wall, so strong and sure of himself. Hard in all the right places, yet with the gentlest touch. Precisely how I thought he’d be.
I can’t recall the last time I let myself be so vulnerable with a man. Probably because I never have. I guess, without trying, Matt made trusting him easy. Like I was in good hands (literally) and could shut my brain off for a while. It was nice.
More than nice.
Damn, he knew what he was doing. Wet kisses and raking fingers all over my body.
A few times this week, when I closed my eyes at night, I imagined his hands warming my skin, roaming my curves with the same intensity.
And if I thought about it hard enough, I could almost trace where his touch had been.
Okay, maybe I’ve been obsessing over it a little. Nothing too wild, but enough that I sometimes catch myself daydreaming, in the middle of a work meeting, about long dirty-blond hair in a bun and a sweaty chest.
Sooo, yeah . Definitely fifty-fifty.
“Tourist mode today, Zoey. Enough.”
Standing beside my rental, I fish the piece of paper with Rosie’s handwriting from my jacket.
“Start your day on the most famous pedestrian street in British Columbia, Moss Street,” I read out loud.
“Your first stop is Oli’s for lunch. It was originally called Jerry’s, but was renamed when Jerry’s grandson, Oliver, your host, reopened it after a fire damaged the building.
The restaurant gave our little town its reputation, and the food there is to die for.
I recommend the duck grilled cheese. Ask for a table on the terrace.
You’ll have a fantastic view of the lake that borders the structure. ”
I cock an eyebrow. Damn, I didn’t know Oliver was such a big deal around here.
“Then,” I read silently, “make your way up the street to the romance bookstore you’ve already been to, One Last Chapter.
If you’re in the mood for a steamy story, I suggest talking to Lola; she always has great recommendations.
Last but not least, Daphne’s Wildflowers.
The florist shop is very popular with tourists and locals alike. ”
Rosie proceeds to name a few hiking trails for beginners right outside Pine Falls, ending her list with a stop at her café, where she promises a cappuccino will be waiting for me.
Smiling, I tuck the note back into my pocket. It’s nice to have a friend in a place I’ve just set foot in. In a town where I know no one.
Almost no one.
I stroll down the sidewalk, passing in front of antique shops, my mind wandering back to Rosie’s mention of the flower boutique.
At home, there are always fresh flowers in a vase somewhere, courtesy of my mother.
When I was little, every room in the house was filled with arrangements.
Most of my childhood memories are scented with jasmine, lilac, rose, and lavender.
Now that I have my place, Mom brings bouquets with her every time she comes over.
It never fails to whisk me back to a simpler time, when all I had to worry about was what film to choose for our Saturday movie nights.
I frown, despite the warmth seeping through me at the memories. When was the last time we had some mother-daughter quality time? Seems like decades ago. The thought stays with me as I make a mental note to pick up flowers at that boutique on the way home.
At Oli’s, I get the duck grilled cheese and a plate of homemade fries, per Rosie’s instruction. And honestly, I’m gonna make it a daily stop, because this might be the best food I’ve ever tasted.
After lunch, I make my way up the street, wandering in the direction of One Last Chapter Bookstore.
It’s easy to see why tourists love Pine Falls.
Moss Street stretches through the heart of the town, its cobblestone surface, while not welcoming to specific footwear, gives the area a quaint charm.
Dozens of shops line each side, waiting to greet tourists and locals alike.
The crisp air carries the scent of the trees that give the town its name, fresh and musky.
Or maybe it comes from the houses nearby, all made of wood and stone.
The wind ruffles my dark hair, and I tighten the lapel of my coat around me. Life here is so different from life in Vancouver. I’ve never pictured the city as a particularly bustling place, but compared to this town?
Not a person I see is in a rush. There are two women over by the pet store, sitting on a bench chatting, coffees clutched in their hands, while their kids play in a patch of grass next to them.
An older couple on the other side of the street is out for a lazy afternoon stroll, stopping to admire a bed of dahlias.
The pace is unhurried, life slow but steady. Time seems to pause, to stretch, allowing for moments of connection and quiet enjoyment of simpler pleasures.
It’s such a foreign concept to me, living in slow motion like this. I’m always on the go, so to even take a walk on a Monday during business hours? Can’t say I’ve ever done it.
When I get to the bookstore, the wooden sign above the door swings gently in the breeze.
The shop’s windows are crammed with neatly stacked books—some new and some old, but all stories of lust and love.
A bell chimes softly as I step in, and I’m immediately greeted by a woman with black hair who’s perched on a ladder, tattoos covering her right arm.
“Hi! Welcome to One Last Chapter.” She tilts her head, assessing me for a moment. “Wait, Zoey, right? The woman who rents Oli’s house?”
I smile warmly. I need every ally I can get if I want to succeed in building this hotel, so I have to make a good impression. Just have to remember her name first.
Fuck.
It’s Laura… no. Lydia. Shit, that’s not it. Looo… Lola!
Mental high-five.
“Hey, Lola! Yep, that’s me. Thanks to your friend, I finally found the place. Not my finest moment, I have to say.”
She places a stack of books on the shelf and comes down. “Ah, don’t worry. I get it.” Quickly, she gives me a once-over. “I see you’re starting to get the vibe around here.”
I peer down at my sweater and the leggings tucked into my boots. “Quite the change from last week, huh?”
She chuckles. “It fits you well. How’s your stay in Pine Falls so far? Matt didn’t scare you too much?”
Cheeks heating, I do a half turn, fidgeting with the spines of several books on a nearby shelf and hoping like hell she can’t see how red my face is. “Scared? N-no, not at all. Quite the opposite, actually. I mean…” I clamp my mouth shut.
What the fuck is wrong with me ?
I take a breath and add, “Turns out he was very helpful, that’s all.”
“That’s our Matt,” she says.
That little affirmation pulls on an invisible thread, tugging at my curiosity. What does she mean by that? What kind of guy is he? All I know is he likes sarcasm and is very good with his hands.
Sigh. I’ll never forget that, will I?
“Rosie told me you had amazing recommendations,” I say, determined not to think about him. “So I thought I’d stop by.”
Lola’s face lights up like I just mentioned I’m giving her ten puppies. “Of course she did. Because I sneak her books when she sends people my way. Are you into romance at all?”
“Can’t say I’ve read a lot in the past several years. Unless it’s related to work.” I grimace. “Don’t really have time.”
“Well, now that you’re in Pine Falls, you can unwind a bit.” She rounds the table nearby and motions for me to follow her.