Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning, Zoe strolled into First Christian. The early September light filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting jewel tones across the pews and carpeting. The scent of coffee still clung faintly to her sweater from the Grind, warm and familiar.
Years ago, when Pastor Dan started offering a midweek service at Cherry Acres, her parents had shifted to Wednesday services. Zoe hadn’t asked if her dad still supplied free coffee to campers and attendees, but if anything had changed, he would’ve said so.
I should tell John about that outreach, she thought. It’d be a great community angle for him to see firsthand.
She lingered in the back, scanning for an open seat.
And then…she saw him. Broad shoulders. Dark hair, a little tousled.
It couldn’t be—
As if he’d felt her eyes on him, John turned.
Their gazes met. His slow, familiar smile hit her like a breeze through an open door, warm and unexpected.
Zoe lifted her hand in a small wave, fingers wiggling.
He gave a subtle nod and shifted slightly, indicating the small space beside him. Very small. Definitely-not-sitting-on-his-lap-but-maybe-leaning-against-his-thigh small.
The only other open spots were in the back three rows, the unofficial teen section.
She spotted her brother, River, slouched beside his friends, and the look he shot her screamed, Don’t you dare.
The congregation rose for the first hymn.
Zoe slipped into the pew beside John just as the organ began to play.
His welcoming smile made every nerve ending in her body sit up and take notice. She shifted, trying to focus on the hymnal he held open between them.
Their voices blended easily. Naturally. Of course they did.
She let out a slow breath. Why had she even hesitated?
Was it the way he’d looked at her before they parted last night? The warmth of his hand on hers, the pull between them like a thread caught in her chest?
Yeah. Maybe.
When they sat, she realized the space was even tighter than it had looked from the aisle. His arm rested casually along the back of the pew behind her shoulders, offering her more room. Sort of. But their legs still touched from hip to knee.
The woman on her other side didn’t budge. Not an inch. She sat upright like someone on a throne, and Zoe didn’t even bother asking her to scoot. Something told her the answer would be a church-blessed no.
So she sat, pressed against John Logan’s thigh…trying to remember the sermon title.
He didn’t seem to notice the contact. Or if he did, he hid it well, eyes forward, expression respectful. Even when their fingers brushed as he passed her the hymnal, nothing in his demeanor betrayed whether he felt the same jolt she felt up her arm.
She tried to focus. She really did.
But John’s cologne—a quiet citrus with something warmer beneath—wrapped around her like an invisible thread. The longer she sat there, the harder it was to pretend she wasn’t breathing it in on purpose.
The woman next to her gave her a look somewhere between judgment and curiosity. Zoe quickly turned forward.
“Like Esther, we often face difficult choices in our lives,” Pastor Dan said, his voice strong and measured.
Zoe froze. For half a second, she was almost sure he was speaking directly to her.
She shifted slightly. Why does he keep looking this way?
“Esther knew her decision would have huge ramifications,” the pastor continued. “And she didn’t jump in without thought.”
Zoe swallowed hard. Her thoughts flicked back to yesterday. The way John’s hand had lingered in hers, the look in his eyes, like maybe she mattered more than he was ready to admit.
“Stepping into courage and purpose,” Pastor Dan said, “can speak to all of us. Sometimes the most difficult choice is simply to choose.”
Laughter rippled as the pastor added, “And as we all know, paralysis by analysis is a real thing.”
Zoe managed a smile, though her mind was still tangled in a dozen decisions she hadn’t made yet.
By the time the sermon ended, she figured she’d retained about half of it. The rest had been lost to citrus cologne, knee-to-knee contact and one very distracting consultant.
As the congregation rose, Zoe turned to John with a smile. “Thanks for sharing your space.”
A glint of humor sparked in his eyes. “It was my pleasure.”
“Even if I was practically sitting on your lap?”
“I’d have been happy to share my lap.”
Their eyes locked.
There it was again, that unmistakable pull. Like gravity had chosen this particular pew just for them.
The woman next to Zoe cleared her throat. Loudly.
Zoe offered a polite smile and turned back toward the aisle.
Except the center aisle wasn’t moving. Not at all. Everyone and their neighbor seemed determined to shake Pastor Dan’s hand on the way out.
Zoe grabbed John’s hand without thinking. “I know a better way.”
She tugged him along, slipping through one of the now-empty back pews the teens had abandoned and into the side aisle. A second later, they stepped into the bright September sunlight.
And she was still holding his hand.
“Oops.” Zoe released him with a small laugh. “Sorry about that.”
“I’m not,” he said, his grin lazy and warm. “For the record, you can hold my hand anytime.”
She tried for breezy. “If it gets you out of church faster?”
“Something like that.”
His smile lingered, a slow spark beneath it, and it made her wonder if he’d meant something more.
“What do you usually do after church?” he asked, falling into step beside her.
“When I was growing up, my parents took us to Muddy Boots for breakfast. Every single Sunday. It was practically a sacred ritual.” She smiled. “How crazy is that?”
“Not crazy,” John said, brushing hair from his forehead. “My parents are the same. Same group of friends, same booth every week.”
Zoe grinned. “Yep. That’s exactly how it worked.”
He tilted his head. “So where do you and your friends go now?”
“Nowhere.” She shrugged. “Right now, none of them are particularly into church.”
She and Erik had gone to church in Austin, but she’d had the feeling that, for him, it had been about status. About being seen. Unless golf came calling, of course.
John nodded, not pressing.
“I haven’t been to Muddy Boots yet,” he said. “Maybe I should give it a try.”
“You really should.” Her smile came easily. “It’s iconic. The pancakes are life-changing.”
He paused, then glanced at her, voice casual. “If you don’t have other plans, I’d love for you to join me.”
There was no pressure in his words. Just a quiet invitation. But her heartbeat still stuttered.
“Sure. I’d love to show you what you’ve been missing,” she said softly.
As they turned toward the café in the golden light of a small-town Sunday morning, Zoe wondered when exactly this had stopped feeling simple.
And started feeling like something more.
Rein it in, she told herself, then turned to him with a smile. “Have I told you about the Wednesday services at Cherry Acres and how the Grind provides coffee to campers and attendees? It’s a fabulous example of community outreach.”
John’s startled look lasted only a second.
“No,” he said, a slow grin spreading. “But I’d love to hear all about it—over pancakes.”
The line outside Muddy Boots stretched down the sidewalk, curling past a chalkboard sign in front of Blooms Bake Shop advertising cinnamon rolls the size of your head.
John didn’t mind the wait one bit.
With Zoe beside him and the golden September sun warming the awning’s blue-and-white stripes, he could’ve stood there all morning. A little girl in a yellow raincoat on the awning splashing through puddles made the scene feel like something out of a postcard.
“It’s hard to believe there’ll be snow on the ground in a couple months,” Zoe mused, tipping her face to the sun. “Maybe sooner.”
He studied how the light caught in her hair, like honey melting at the edges. “Will you miss the warmth?”
“I’ll miss the predictability.” She shrugged. “Austin had heat waves, sure, but you didn’t need a backup jacket in your trunk year-round.”
“I don’t mind the snow,” he said. “Where I grew up, winter came early and left late. March usually looked like February.”
Her gaze sharpened. “I’m betting you like winter sports.”
“Busted.” He grinned. “Hockey, skiing, snowshoeing, ice fishing. Give me an ice hut and a thermos of coffee, and I’m good.”
Zoe gave an exaggerated shiver. “That sounds miserable. Skiing and skating, fine. But snowshoeing? Ice fishing? Hard pass.”
The line shuffled forward.
Funny—it should’ve felt odd talking about frozen lakes under a warm sun. But with Zoe, it just felt easy. Like this had always been their rhythm.
“You didn’t mention hockey,” he said. “I’m guessing you’ve never played?”
“Wrong.” She smirked. “Brynn and I played pond hockey with the Brody twins every winter. We never joined a league, but we held our own.”
“Callum’s a twin?”
“Identical. Connor lives out of town now. But back in the day, the four of us ruled the ice.”
John was impressed—and a little envious of all the stories she hadn’t told him yet.
“Callum used to work in extreme sports,” Zoe added. “Now he’s partnered with Anders Cross to grow his outfitter business here in town.”
“And Brynn?”
“Clinical psychologist. Works at Connections, the local mental health clinic, alongside my mom.”
“No wing-gliding for her, then?”
Zoe laughed. “Not unless she’s chasing a patient.”
John smiled. “I know she and Callum are engaged. Parker’s not her son, right?”
“No. He’s from a previous relationship. His biological mom hasn’t been around in years. Brynn’s planning to adopt him after the wedding.”
“Is the mom okay with that?”
“No one knows where she is,” Zoe said quietly. “Callum’s uncle, who’s a lawyer, is handling it. It’s a process.”
John nodded, absorbing the weight behind her words. “Parker’s lucky to have them.”
Inside, the scent of syrup and sizzling bacon hit like a warm blanket. John spotted her brother seated with a girl and a young couple.
He leaned close. “Want to say hi?”
Zoe chuckled. “Not on your life. River would implode.”
They were led to a table near the back. The host muttered something about a server and vanished.
John took the menu Zoe handed him. “Who’s River with?”
“Phoebe’s his girlfriend. Sweet girl. Not exactly…driven.” She glanced up as a teen approached with two mugs of coffee.
“We’ll take two of those, too, when you get a chance,” John said, and the boy nodded.
“The other couple is Caleb and Mia. Caleb is one of River’s best friends. Mia is Brynn’s niece.”
A blond girl appeared with a brisk, “Sorry to keep you waiting.” She set down mugs of coffee and offered a tight smile. “I’m Faith. I’ll be taking care of you.”
“Faith is Caleb’s sister,” Zoe explained, catching the flicker of recognition on Faith’s face. “John’s new to Good Hope.”
Faith’s smile softened. “Happens to the best of us. Know what you’d like?”
Zoe didn’t miss a beat. “Number one. Scrambled. Wheat toast.”
“Number three. Eggs over easy,” John added.
Faith nodded and spun toward the kitchen, weaving through tables like she’d done it a hundred times.
Their food arrived quickly. For a few blissful moments, conversation paused, the silence filled with coffee sips, fork clinks, and bites of hot, buttered toast.
Then John reached for the syrup and poured a second layer over his pancakes.
Zoe arched a brow. “You sure you’re not overdoing it?”
He grinned. “I like cake with my syrup.”
She leaned in. “I’ll let you in on a secret—I do, too.”
“I knew I liked you,” he said solemnly. “Now it’s confirmed.”
Her laugh filled the booth, warm and real. He was about to say more when movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
Faith passed River’s table, plates stacked high—and Phoebe’s foot slid into her path.
Faith stumbled.
A plate clattered to the floor. Eggs and toast skidded across the linoleum. But Faith held on to the other two, wobbling but upright.
A woman at a nearby table reached out, steadying her.
An older waitress swooped in. “Bus boy’s on it,” she said, motioning to the mess. “You okay?”
“Yes,” Faith said, voice steady.
“What was the order?”
Faith repeated it without missing a beat.
“I’ll rush it.” The woman turned on her heel.
John glanced at Phoebe, her foot tucked back too casually. Her voice rang out a touch too loud as she said, “Oh no, Faith, are you okay? You’re not usually that clumsy. Maybe you were moving too fast.”
Zoe murmured, “Faith is usually so agile. I saw her and Mia play soccer last spring—they were electric.”
John opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. The angle hadn’t been great. If he was wrong…
He took another bite of pancake but didn’t miss the tight line of Faith’s jaw or the way she avoided looking at Phoebe.
“I liked Pastor Dan’s sermon,” he said, steering the moment elsewhere. “Simple but thoughtful.”
“He’s good at making the message relatable,” Zoe agreed. “Though I didn’t agree with everything.”
“Oh?”
“He leaned into the idea of not rushing decisions. I get it…but I’ve always led with my gut.”
“Has that ever led you astray?”
Zoe’s smile tilted. “My parents think so. And…sometimes.”
John nodded, but she wasn’t apologizing for it. She owned her voice, and he admired that.
“The way I see it,” he said, “even the wrong choices teach us something. Better to move than stay stuck.”
She looked at him longer than necessary. “Exactly. Sometimes you just know.”
John’s pulse ticked. Quiet. Steady.
Zoe turned toward the window, golden light catching her profile.
“There’s a place I’d like to show you,” she said. “If you’ve got time?”
For her? Always. His smile came slow and easy. “Sure.”