Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“That pumpkin face of yours is really creepy,” John said, eyeing her with mock suspicion. “Just sayin’.”
Zoe shot him a look. “It’s festive.”
“When you say ‘festive,’ do you mean haunting-my-dreams festive?”
She laughed and lifted a hand to her cheek. The teenage girl at the face-painting booth had asked if she could turn Zoe into a pumpkin. Zoe had pictured something cute and cheerful—maybe a glittery jack-o’-lantern like in a Hallmark movie. What she’d gotten was…pumpkin meets chaos demon.
“At least I don’t look like a tiger ready to pounce,” she shot back.
John bared his teeth in a ferocious grin and gave his best growl, hands curled into claws at his sides.
It was terrible. Hilariously terrible.
Zoe nearly doubled over laughing. “You sound like a tiger with seasonal allergies.”
They were still laughing when a light tap on her shoulder made her turn.
“Zoe?”
She blinked, surprised, and then she smiled. “Brynn!”
Her best friend since middle school stood beside her fiancé, Callum Brody, and Callum’s redheaded six-year-old son, Parker. Brynn’s eyes flicked from Zoe’s pumpkin-streaked face to John’s tiger stripes and back again.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, grinning. “We seriously should’ve gotten our faces painted.”
Parker took one look at John’s tiger design and instantly raised his own hands like claws. “Raaawr!”
Without missing a beat, John responded with a playful pounce, eliciting delighted giggles from the boy.
Callum chuckled and glanced at Brynn. “You’re right. Missed opportunity.”
“I keep telling people,” Brynn said dryly, “letting high school art students run the face-painting booth is the most brilliant thing Lila’s ever done.”
“Lila…the art teacher?” Zoe asked.
Brynn nodded. “She’s counting it as an extracurricular. Win-win.”
Zoe smiled, then gestured between the two men. “Brynn, Callum, this is John Logan. He’s consulting for the Grind, helping my dad map out a plan for national expansion.”
John extended a hand to Callum, then to Brynn. “Nice to see you again.”
Brynn tilted her head, studying him. “The tiger stripes threw me at first, but…Austin. The engagement party.”
Zoe felt her stomach dip, but Brynn’s tone was casual.
John gave a sheepish smile. “I clean up better without the whiskers.”
“It’s good to see you,” Brynn said simply, slanting a curious glance in Zoe’s direction.
Then Parker let out a fierce little growl, and John leaned down, widening his eyes. “Was that a challenge, young tiger?”
Parker bared his teeth in a snarl so intense that even Callum chuckled.
Her friend’s gaze lingered on John a beat longer. “So with Ryder out of commission, you’re basically flying solo?”
“Not at all,” he said. “Zoe and I are working on this together. She’s incredible. No way I could do this without her.”
Zoe felt her chest tighten—not from pressure, but from something warmer, unexpected. Gratitude. Maybe something more. “I’m just helping my dad. No big deal.”
Brynn’s smile softened as she slipped her arm through Zoe’s and gave it a squeeze. “You’ve always been incredible.”
They chatted for a few more minutes—about Parker’s love of the climbing wall, the kettle corn line being ridiculous already and how Brynn’s brother was helping with crowd control—before Brynn and her family waved and moved on.
John touched Zoe’s arm lightly. “Where to next?”
Tonight’s plan was for him to meet people and get a feel for the Good Hope community.
“Hmm.” She scanned the booths. “Apple cider tasting or heirloom quilts?”
“Dealer’s choice.”
She stepped forward but stopped when she heard, “Quick question.”
“Okay. As long as it’s quick.” Zoe turned back and couldn’t resist teasing him. “Those quilts are something you’ll definitely want to see.”
She swore she saw him wince, which made her grin widen.
“I’m curious…” He met her eyes, his tone gentler than usual. “Why did you downplay your role in the expansion? You’ve been at the heart of every plan we’ve worked on, and yet, you don’t even mention your involvement.”
Zoe blinked, caught off guard. “I guess I just…don’t need the spotlight?”
John shook his head. “I don’t either. That’s not what this is about.”
She looked away for a beat, unsure how to respond.
“I know a lot of men need to be in the spotlight all the time, but I’m not like that,” he said, his voice low, steady. “I’m not intimidated by a smart woman.”
Zoe’s breath caught.
Somewhere behind them, a string band began to play, lilting and cheerful. Festival sounds swirled around them—laughter, music—along with the warm scents of cider and fried dough.
And for a moment, it felt like this was just a fall festival date.
Then again, maybe it was both. Work and something more. They were here for John to connect with the community—that was the plan.
But spending time with him was starting to feel less like strategy…and more like possibility.
Zoe stood near a hay bale display shaped like a horse, watching John wait in line at the cider stand. Even with that ridiculous tiger face, he looked calm. Comfortable. Like he belonged.
That part surprised her most.
She wrapped her arms around herself, though she wasn’t cold. The crisp air smelled like cinnamon apples and woodsmoke, but the warmth in her chest had nothing to do with fall.
What he’d said wasn’t wrong.
If she replayed how she’d responded to Brynn—or how she’d introduced herself to others all day—John had been exactly right. She had been downplaying her role. Like her contributions counted only if someone else validated them first.
When had that started?
Maybe not with Erik, exactly. Though she’d heard the unspoken reference in John’s “a lot of men” comment.
John knew as well as she did how much Erik liked to be the center of attention.
Somewhere along the way, she’d gotten good at shrinking.
At playing the supporting role even when she had lead ideas.
Well, that ended now.
She wasn’t going to demand the spotlight, but she wasn’t going to step out of it just because it might make someone else more comfortable.
John returned a moment later, holding two steaming cups.
“One hot apple cider,” he said, offering it with a crooked smile.
Zoe took the cup, her fingers brushing his. She met his gaze and felt the world around her still for just a second.
There was something in his eyes—warmth, admiration, maybe even awe—that made her breath catch.
“Thanks, tiger,” she said softly. “So…quilts next?”
His smile deepened. “Your choice.”
She gave a small laugh, then nodded. “I’ll lead the way.”
But even as they walked, her thoughts lingered on the look he’d given her.
Like he saw her clearly—and liked what he saw.
They walked side by side through the square, the scent of kettle corn and cider clinging to the crisp afternoon air. Laughter rippled from a nearby hayride, and someone was handing out caramel apple samples by the bakery tent. He could’ve kept wandering like this with Zoe all day.
But then she slowed.
“There’s a picnic table over there,” she said, nodding toward the edge of the square. “Let’s take a break.”
He followed without question, even as something in her tone nudged at him. When they sat, her posture shifted, becoming less relaxed, more purposeful.
“I’ve been thinking about drive-throughs,” she said.
That was…not where he’d thought this moment was going.
Still, he nodded, waiting.
“If we expand,” she continued, “we’ll be expected to streamline. Make things faster. Add conveniences. But if we go the route of drive-throughs, I think we lose something important.”
John leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Convenience is king these days. You know that.”
“I do. But we’re not just selling coffee, John. We’re selling community. People come to the Grind to feel seen. To linger. To be part of something.”
“And you think a drive-through would chip away at that?”
“I think it would change the entire feel. There’s a rhythm to coming inside—smelling the coffee, chatting with the barista, bumping into neighbors. You don’t get that when you’re shouting your order into a speaker and driving away with a cup you barely looked at.”
He watched her as she spoke—how her eyes lit when she was passionate, how steady her voice stayed even when the topic clearly mattered. She wasn’t just throwing out concerns. She was making a case. A good one.
“I’m not saying we should never consider adding them,” she said. “But we have to be strategic. Maybe one or two in commuter-heavy areas. But not at the cost of what makes the brand work.”
John nodded, considering. “That aligns with what we saw in the customer data—longer in-store dwell times, repeat visits based on staff connection, word-of-mouth growth.”
“Exactly. People talk about their experience here, not just the drinks.”
He took a sip of cider, thinking. “We’ll have to build that into the core brand values, so any franchisee knows it’s nonnegotiable. Maybe we create two concepts—the full community-based café and a smaller express kiosk for high-traffic commuter areas.”
Zoe’s brows lifted slightly. “You’d really be okay drawing that kind of line?”
“If it protects what works? Absolutely.” He glanced at her. “The vibe is the product.”
She smiled at that, wide and genuine.
He hadn’t known what today would bring. Honestly, he’d thought maybe they’d wander the booths and steal a few more easy moments together. What he hadn’t expected was this—Zoe sitting across from him, not just enjoying the ride, but hands clearly on the steering wheel.
And he liked it. More than he wanted to admit.
This wasn’t just a partnership of convenience. She had vision. Insight. She was making the business stronger—making him better.
He’d worked with a lot of smart people over the years. But no one had ever made the work feel this personal…or this right.