Chapter 1
Luke
I slammed through the candy factory doors, breathing in deep gulps of the crisp Vermont air, desperate for something other than the scent of maple syrup. I’d been back in Maple Crossing for a few days, and I was already sick of the maple syrup sweetness of my family’s candy factory.
And even more sick of my moms and their flighty ways.
This was why I moved to Boston. This was why I craved the stability of working for a big company, where there were processes and redundancies, timelines, and schedules.
No one at my marketing firm had ever suggested that we could manifest a jar of honey if we just thought positively enough.
At least they were letting me get out of the factory for a few hours to take care of the delivery run.
Hopefully, I could manage a few weeks of this without going completely insane.
The purple Tapped Amber Confections delivery van was in the loading area, and a young Asian woman with four pencils coiled into her glossy black hair was loading a box into the back, her wide-legged jeans hugging her curvy ass. Not that I was staring at her ass.
Turning, she picked up a clipboard and wrote on it, then swiped her bangs out of her eyes, smearing a black line across her forehead with her Sharpie.
I cleared my throat to hide my laugh, and she looked up at me, a big smile on her face.
She wasn’t my usual type, but she was gorgeous enough that I decided not to tease her about the Sharpie line, and familiar enough that I wondered where I knew her from.
“Doing the deliveries to escape your moms?” she asked, capping the pen and handing me the clipboard. Our fingers brushed, sending a jolt of awareness up my arm.
“Something like that.” I tilted my head. “Have we met?”
“Fuck, Luke. Yes, we’ve met,” she said. “We’ve known each other forever. I worked for your family for six years and lived in the apartment above the candy shop the whole time.”
I blinked, realizing who she was. “Cult girl? When did you get hot?”
She looked down at her maple sugar-stained jeans and ratty t-shirt, then back at me. She raised an eyebrow, held eye contact for a beat, then turned and walked back inside without a word.
“Sorry. I’ll stop calling you cult girl!”
She didn’t turn around.
“If you would, um, remind me of your actual name, that would help!”
The factory door slammed behind her.
I stood frozen for a second after the door closed, the ghost of her touch still warm against my fingertips.
After only a brief brush of skin, something in my chest tilted, like a compass needle finding north. I hadn’t felt that kind of pull in years. Not since Eli.
I rubbed my thumb across the spot she’d touched, then forced myself toward the van before I did something stupid.
Get it together, Merrick.
I was here for three weeks, max. There was no way I could fuck the girl who used to hide behind bonnets and homespun dresses, even if she’s grown up into a curvy, gorgeous woman who short-circuits my brain with a fingertip.
I closed the doors and climbed into the driver’s seat, a blast of memories hitting me as I started the engine. This had been my job as a teenager, my way to escape the chaos of the candy factory.
My first three stops brought back a flood of memories.
Everything reminded me of my favorite parts of working for my family business during my teen years.
I’d forgotten how much I used to love driving around town, dropping off candy and chatting with Jake at the Maple Crossing Market, or sharing the latest gossip with Cammie at her gift shop.
It was unsettling, after all the years of living in Boston, to step into shops where everyone knew my entire family and they were all thrilled to see me.
In Boston, the clerks barely made eye contact, and everything was so much more efficient.
You could be in and out in mere minutes, you didn’t have to stop for a half hour and recount all the gory details of your sister’s pregnancy and her early labor scare.
The fourth stop only listed a name and address, but the address was one I knew by heart, even after all this time. I’d spent most of my childhood there. I was going to the Honeyfern Inn. Eli’s place.
I pulled onto the main road, the familiar route to the inn embedded in my muscle memory despite six years of absence.
How many times had I been down this road?
Hundreds? Thousands? Every moment I could sneak away from family obligations or schoolwork, I’d been at Eli’s side, finding mischief at his grandfather’s historic inn.
We’d been inseparable. Best friends. Soulmates.
Until we weren’t.
As the van rounded the curve revealing Ambervale Lake, a physical ache bloomed in my chest. The water was slate-gray today, reflecting the November sky, but I could imagine it in every season—summer blue when we’d swum to the floating dock, autumn gold when we’d kayaked through fallen leaves, winter white when we’d skated across its frozen surface.
The inn came into view—three stories of weathered Victorian charm, its sage green clapboard looking more tired than I remembered. The wraparound porch still featured white rocking chairs, and the white gingerbread trim looked recently painted.
I parked in the small delivery lot and sat for a moment, trying to calm my racing heart.
According to the order form, the box contained a gift assortment for Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, celebrating their 50th anniversary.
Not for Eli directly. Maybe I wouldn’t even see him.
Maybe his grandfather Henry would be at the desk, or they’d hired a manager.
“Fuck it.” I was a grown man with an MBA. I could deliver candy to my former best friend’s business without falling apart.
The steps creaked under my feet, the sound like a greeting from an old friend. I paused at the heavy wooden front door. Through the glass, I saw the warm glow of the lobby. For a heartbeat, I was sixteen again, showing up unannounced because I couldn’t stand another minute without seeing Eli.
I reached for the handle as the door swung open from inside.
And there he was.
Eli Corwin stood in the doorway, taller and broader than I remembered, his dark hair longer and slightly wild, as if he’d been running his hands through it.
Stubble shadowed his square jaw, and there was a smudge of grease on his thickly muscled forearm.
But his eyes—those piercing steel-blue eyes—were the same.
They widened in shock when they landed on me.
“Luke?” His voice was deeper and rougher than I remembered, but it still made me shiver with a long-buried want.
“Hey.” That word felt inadequate and ridiculous. Six years of silence and that was all I managed?
Eli’s expression shifted from shock to something harder, more guarded. “What are you doing here?”
I lifted the box lamely. “Delivery from Tapped Amber. For your guests, the Pattersons.”
“You’re doing deliveries?” His tone was flat, but I could hear the accusation beneath it. You left for bigger things, but now you’re back doing deliveries?
“Lori’s doctor has her on bedrest, and the moms are behind on the holiday rush, so I took a few weeks off to help them.” I shifted my weight, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must look, wearing a sticky apron over my designer jeans.
Eli leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. The gesture pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders, showing me muscle definition that made my mouth go dry.
“Been in town long?”
The casual question carried a serrated edge that sliced right through me.
“Three days. Lori went into early labor and needed to be rushed to the hospital—”
“Yeah, I heard. Are she and the baby doing okay on bed rest?”
“She’s not thrilled about it, but they’re fine. I came into town because she can’t work at Tapped Amber because she needs to avoid stress, and our moms are in a panic.”
“So you’ve been in town for three days,” he said. “Interesting. Must be very busy if you couldn’t find five minutes to tell me you were back.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I was going to stop by.”
“Sure you were.” His laugh was short and harsh. “Just like you were going to stay in touch after you left. Just like you were going to visit. Just like all those promises you made.”
“That’s not fair.” My calm professional demeanor evaporated. “You were the one who made it impossible—”
“Impossible?” Eli pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer, and I caught his scent, pine and wood smoke.
I wanted to lean in and bury myself in his familiar scent, to brush my lips against his throat and taste him.
But he was determined to argue. His jaw clenched with anger.
“You made your choice pretty fucking clear, Luke.”
We stared at each other, six years of silence between us like a minefield.
My hands shook, the box trembling in my grip.
This wasn’t how I’d imagined our reunion.
Not that I’d let myself imagine it often, but in the rare moments I’d daydreamed about our reunion, I’d pictured something full of heat and frantic need.
And I’d imagined a lot more kissing, not that he’d ever wanted that.
Didn’t he at least want to hug? A wave of hurt washed over me, followed by anger, because Eli couldn’t ever let things go.
“Just take the fucking order.” I shoved the basket against his chest, forcing him to grab it or let it fall. “Great to see you too, Eli. I enjoyed catching up.”
I spun on my heel and stalked back to the van, not trusting myself to speak. Behind me, the inn’s door slammed shut with a force that shook the porch railing.
Inside the van, I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, struggling to breathe through the tightness in my chest. Hot tears pressed against my eyelids, and I blinked furiously, refusing to let them fall.
“Fuck,” I whispered, then louder, “Fuck!” I slammed my palm against the steering wheel, the sharp pain distracting me from the ache in my chest.
Even after six years, Eli’s presence brought everything back—the hurt, the longing, and the bitter knowledge that I’d lost something irreplaceable.
I leaned my forehead against the cool leather of the steering wheel, fighting to regain control. This was why I’d stayed away.