Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
MATT
I haven’t seen Zoey in four days, but she hasn’t left my mind for a second during our time apart. Even through hectic mornings with Daph, frantic days at the store, and my new routine in the evening that keeps me busy until ten, there hasn’t been a moment when I haven’t thought about her.
I woke up early this morning, unable to wipe the grin off my face. Even Daph called me out on it when I dropped her off at before-school care, saying I was acting weird.
I’m not. I always like Wednesdays because it’s the Pine Falls weekly market, and this week, it just so happens that Zoey will be there to help me mind the stand. Pure coincidence. Not at all related.
Plus, I’ve been looking forward to a relaxing day at the market and catching up with my regulars.
I’m sure Zoey’s never done this before, and the idea of sharing that moment with her makes my body shiver with anticipation.
I load the flowers in the van, overcome with more joy than I have any business feeling over something as trivial as this, when a familiar voice breaks through the quiet hum of the morning.
“Do you need help?”
I turn, and there she is.
Zoey rounds the front of my delivery van, and once again, I’m grinning like a fool, far too excited at the sight of her. It’s been four days, and I—well, I really fucking missed her.
My fingers flex around the flowers I’m holding. The low sun catches her hair, turning it a warm chocolate brown. In that soft morning light, she looks a little brighter than the rest of the world, and something inside me whispers that I’ve never known anything more true.
She leans against the van with an easy smile, crossing one ankle over the other.
Did she feel my absence as much as I felt hers? Did the four days we were apart stretch like weeks for her too?
I drop the flowers in the cargo area of the van and close the distance between us. The second I’m within reach, I wrap my arm around her waist, lifting her against me. “Good morning, beautiful.”
She buries her face in the crook of my neck, draping her arms over my shoulders and melting further into me. “Morning.”
Her voice is so soft, so content, it makes me want to keep her nestled here forever. There’s no one around, no one watching, but even if there were, I wouldn’t be pretending. I couldn’t fake this if I tried. I just need her near. And her eager response? It’s like she’s forgotten about it too.
My heart hammers so hard against my ribs I’m sure she can feel it. But does she realize that she’s the reason why?
Pressing my nose into her hair, I breathe her in. “Ready to sell some flowers and mingle with the town?”
“I guess so.” She sighs, and the puff of air warms my skin. “Even if you made me get up super early.”
Laughing, I stroke her hair. “I warned you when we agreed to fake date, remember? You said you had no problem with it.”
“I don’t think I was listening at that moment,” she mumbles.
I untangle myself from her, setting her back on her feet.
As we step apart, the blinds of the grocery store a few doors down roll up and Sue appears in the window.
She waves to me, and I return the greeting.
Zoey turns, and when she spots her, a quiet oh slips from her lips , her shoulders dropping an inch.
When she looks back at me, her eyes have lost a bit of the spark they had a few seconds ago.
I place my hands on her arms. “Everything okay?”
“Absolutely,” she says, flashing me one of her famous fake-ass smiles. “Do you need more help?”
The switch in her attitude gives me whiplash. I want to go back to when she had her arms around my neck and it felt like I was dreaming with my eyes open.
I rock back on my heels. “I have a couple more crates to load, and we’ll be on our way.”
With a nod, she backs away. “I’ll wait for you in the van.”
Ten minutes later, we’re on our way.
“It’s called the Pine Falls Market,” I say as I head for Brookhaven, “but we hold it in a nearby town. It’s a more convenient location for all the hamlets in the area. Kind of like a community market.”
“You do this often?” she asks, shifting in her seat to face me, her expression glinting with curiosity.
I nod. “Every week. It’s very popular, so it’s good business for me.”
When we get there, the square is already buzzing with the early morning energy. All around, local merchants set up their stands, chatting and hauling their wares.
“Anything I should focus on today? Anybody I should charm?” Zoey asks, her tone playful.
“The usual suspects,” I say as I unlock the bed.
“Justin—he owns a construction company—usually picks up lunch at Mia’s stand.
He’d be a good ally.” With a hand on the van handle, I turn to Zoey.
“Just be yourself. You’ve been doing great so far.
From the snippets I’ve gleaned here and there, the lodge is on everybody’s mind.
Continue what you’ve been doing today. All I ask is that you don’t sell more flowers than me. ”
Cheeks pink, she breathes a soft laugh. The sound lights me up from the inside. I worry I’ve become addicted to it.
“I can’t promise that.” She drags the folding table from the bed and hauls it over to our spot. “I’ve never sold flowers,” she calls back, “but if you do it, how hard can it be?”
“Actually,” I argue lightly, “it’s—you know what? Let’s see how easy it is, then. Are you up for some friendly competition?”
She quirks a brow, studying me with a mix of amusement and suspicion. “Depends. Are you a sore loser?”
I grin at her. “I wouldn’t know. Can’t say I’ve ever experienced the feeling before.”
Her lips twitch. “Guess you’re about to learn something, then.”
How could I expect anything less from a woman who’s at the top of her game? She hasn’t gotten where she is by tiptoeing around work and following orders. I’m a laid-back kind of guy, but I’ll play along. Just to see how far she’ll take it.
“Careful,” I warn. “I have a soft spot for cocky women.”
She crosses her arms and gives me a look. “What are the rules?”
“The person who sells the most flowers has bragging rights for life.”
Head tilted, she asks, “Quantity or dollars spent?”
Oh, she’s getting technical. I love it. “Quantity. I need to know if you’re a better salesperson than I am.”
Without hesitation, she thrusts her hand out. “Deal.”
I take her hand and give it a firm shake. Though when it’s time to let go, I don’t. Instead, I drag my thumb over her skin, then twist gently and graze her palm, savoring her warmth.
“You’re distracting me.” She swallows audibly, her delicate throat working.
“Am I?” I ask, voice low.
She slips out of my hold, her gaze flitting to the ground. “Shouldn’t we set up your stand before the market opens?”
“Look at you, willing to do the dirty work all of a sudden. Who are you and what have you done with Zoey Delacroix?”
She chuckles. “I know, right? And it’s not even nine a.m. Ew.”
I laugh and her smile widens, more genuine than the last one she gave me. I like that I can pull it out of her.
We get to work, unloading the van and carrying the crates of flowers and vases to the table. Zoey moves quickly, her focus sharp. We fall into an easy rhythm, one that feels more familiar than it should, and thirty minutes later, we’re all set.
Standing beside me, Zoey shoots me a sly grin. “Ready to lose?”
“It’s good you’re used to dirt now, city girl, ’cause you’re about to eat some.”
She’s way better at this than I thought she’d be.
So far, I’m still in the lead, but she’s not that behind. And I’ve been working my ass off all morning.
The market is buzzing now, and Zoey’s surrounded by customers, chatting away like she’s done this all her life. She’s a natural, hooking people with her charm and sharp wit and that easy energy that tells you there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.
“Not bad.” I move behind her and grab a few roses for the elderly woman waiting on my side of the stand.
“Thanks,” Zoey replies quickly, her attention set on wrapping a bouquet for a customer of her own. “Hey, where did the sun go? It’s getting chilly.”
I lean forward, glancing at the sky. It’s not supposed to rain, but the heavy clouds moving in don’t bode well at all.
“Do you want me to run to the van and get my jacket for you?”
She ties the bouquet and hands it to the customer in front of her. “And give you an excuse to say you let me win? Not a chance.”
I roll my eyes, but then I catch sight of the spreadsheet we’re using to tally sales, and my plan to check the weather app slips my mind.
Dammit, she’s getting close to taking the lead. And I know most of these people, which makes the fact that they’re coming to her and not me even more impressive.
I glance over at her, a sudden rush of warmth flooding me. She’s talking to a young dad with a stroller, effortlessly making him laugh.
Her hair is tossed into a messy bun, but a few strands have fallen free, teasing the curve of her neck.
Does she notice how much she affects me?
The way she stands, the way she moves—every little detail draws me in, pulls at something inside me I don’t want to acknowledge.
It travels to my hands, through my chest, in my jaw.
It’s a tension that won’t shake loose. I’m just standing here, wanting, aching, wishing I could do something… anything.
Okay, yeah. I’ve been doing that a lot. Getting lost in my thoughts while watching her, instead of selling flowers. And it’s clearly costing me this game.
Focus , Matt .
I turn to the next customer, a guy in his mid-thirties. “How can I help you today, sir?” I ask, flashing a grin.
In the distance, the sky rumbles.
“I’d like to buy a bouquet for my wife.”
“Of course. Do you know what you’re looking for?”
He presses his lips into a thin line. “Something that says, ‘I’m sorry’?”
“Ah.” I chuckle. “I have the perfect one for that.” I glance at Zoey, who’s handing out an arrangement of sunflowers.