Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Zoe’s heart did a little traitorous flip the next morning when John strolled into the Daily Grind.
She’d told herself not to overthink the kiss. To treat today like any other workday. But the way her pulse jumped the second their eyes met told her she’d failed spectacularly.
Instead of waiting in the back office, Zoe had remained out front, chatting with Astrid between customers.
She’d known she would see John today. The plan for this morning was to review and discuss projected startup costs for national expansion and proposed funding models.
Zoe had prepped herself for seeing him this morning, but apparently, no one had bothered to notify her nervous system. Her insides jittered with each step he took closer.
“I can make you a couple of drinks for the road,” Astrid said, moving toward the espresso machine.
John reached the counter just in time to catch the tail end of the exchange. “Zoe. Astrid.” His greeting was polite, but the warmth in his eyes as they landed on Zoe said more than his tone did. “Did I hear something about a road trip?”
“You did,” she said casually, proud that her voice didn’t betray a single one of the butterflies going rogue in her chest. “I thought we’d drive out to Cherry Acres. I’ll fill you in on the way.”
“Sounds great.”
Moments later, with drinks and a bag of apple cider doughnuts in hand, John held the door for her, and a rush of cool September air surrounded them as they stepped outside.
“If I had to guess, I’d say this is another community expansion possibility,” he said, falling into step beside her.
Zoe sent him a sidelong smile as she slid behind the wheel. “Are you sure about that?”
“No. But I think it’s more likely that than you simply wanting to spend time with me.”
Zoe’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “John.”
He turned toward her.
“I enjoy being with you,” she said, her voice low, just above the hum of the engine. “Whether it’s talking business or just a drive in the country.”
Something shifted in the air between them.
“This isn’t just a drive in the country,” he murmured.
She glanced over, caught the faint curve of his smile and shook her head. “You don’t miss a trick.”
He laughed, the sound warm and real, loosening the last of the tension in her chest. “Back atcha.”
Zoe wasn’t so sure. She’d always considered herself intuitive—able to read a room, spot a shift, sense when something was off.
Erik had upended all of that. The breakup hadn’t just blindsided her—it had rewritten her understanding of herself.
He’d waited to end things until after the engagement party, after the save-the-date cards had gone out, after she’d poured her heart into building a future she thought they both wanted.
There had to have been signs. She must’ve missed them. Or worse, ignored them.
But sitting beside John now, hearing the ease in his voice, the honesty—real honesty—in his laugh, it felt different.
She didn’t have to guess with him.
She didn’t have to pretend nothing had changed when everything clearly had.
Zoe took a breath, letting it steady her, and shifted gears. “How about I start by telling you about Cherry Acres?”
He smirked. “Back to business?”
“Someone has to keep us on task.”
“The sooner we get through the task,” John said, turning to her with a look that had her pulse doing that fluttery thing again, “the sooner we can enjoy the rest of the day.”
She tried to ignore the way her cheeks warmed. “Don’t forget we still have to go over the financials.”
“I know, and I can’t wait to debate franchising versus corporate-owned funding models with you.”
“John…”
“The truth is, I look forward to spending the rest of the day with you—and tonight, too, if you’re free.” His voice lowered, taking on a new kind of weight. “I hope you feel the same.”
Zoe only smiled.
The way the day was unfolding, she had a feeling the best answers were still to come.
Zoe pulled into a gravel parking space facing the cherry-red building, its weathered white trim and wide covered porch making it look like it had been plucked straight from a vintage postcard.
Big windows displayed cherry-themed everything—aprons, jars of jam and signs with punny slogans like “Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries.” Wooden rocking chairs lined the porch, each flanked by hanging baskets of autumn mums swaying in the September breeze.
The scent of pine and crisp fall air drifted through the open windows. Zoe unbuckled her seat belt, but she didn’t move.
“There’s something I forgot to mention during my Cherry Acres pitch,” she said, glancing over at John. “You know Wyatt and Greer.”
He nodded. “Met them at your engagement party. And then again that first day in town.”
“Just a quick reminder that Wyatt, who owns all of this, is my mom’s brother.” She smiled faintly. “Oh, and Greer is also Brynn’s aunt.”
John groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead in mock agony. “It’s like six degrees of Zoe Goodhue.”
She smirked, pushing open her door. “You’re welcome.”
They stepped out into the sunshine, gravel crunching beneath their shoes. A rooster let out a ragged crow in the distance, adding to the old-time charm of the place.
John took a moment to survey the property. “What I don’t understand is why your dad never reached out to his brother-in-law before now. There’s so much partnership potential here.”
Zoe followed his gaze to the barn and orchard lanes, the ripe stillness of harvest season all around them. “I think he always meant to,” she said softly. “But life kept getting in the way. Running the original shop, expanding the Grind, raising three kids…”
She paused, then added with quiet affection, “He never once made us feel like we came second.”
John looked at her, something thoughtful flickering behind his eyes. “I admire that. A lot. What’s the point of building something if there’s no one to share it with?”
The words caught her off guard, reverberating deeper than she expected.
She nodded once, her voice steady. “I agree.”
Then, on instinct, she slid her arm through his. His warmth met hers, and the quiet moment expanded, neither of them in a hurry to break it.
“You and I don’t have family constraints right now,” she said, deliberately shifting the tone as she motioned to the building ahead. “Which is why we should use this time to explore every opportunity to grow the Grind’s presence.”
They started up the porch steps, passing a bucket of decorative gourds and a hand-painted sign that read “Fresh Cider Inside.” Zoe’s arm remained tucked in his. And John… John made no move to let her go.
For the first time in a long time, Zoe didn’t feel the need to pull away.
As they stepped through the door, the familiar scent of cinnamon and cider greeted them like a memory. Zoe glanced at John, noting the easy way he moved beside her, the warmth that had quietly settled between them, and for a moment, she let herself believe this could be something more.
Inside, after Zoe gave him a quick tour of the general store, with its shelves of cherry products, locally made honey and quirky vintage signage, they were invited into Wyatt’s back office.
The space was part workspace, part history museum, with old black-and-white photos of cherry harvests lining the walls and the comforting scent of coffee and cedar lingering in the air.
Wyatt, every inch the rugged small-town entrepreneur—tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that had only just begun to flirt with gray—offered a warm smile as he sized them up. His eyes, sharp with curiosity, flicked between them.
“Sounds like you might have some ideas for me.”
Zoe nodded toward John, her voice bright with enthusiasm.
“We’ve brainstormed a few things, but one of my favorites is the Cherries and Chill Pop-Up.
Picture it—summer weekends with exclusive cold brews, cherry pastries from Blooms Bake Shop, vintage lawn games…
maybe even a Name the Next Cherry Drink contest where customers vote on submissions. ”
Wyatt’s brows lifted. He was clearly intrigued.
“We know you’ve already got your Wine and Cherries event,” John added smoothly. “Which is great. We wouldn’t compete with that. This would be more casual, more family-friendly. A pop-up that builds on what you’ve already established.”
Wyatt rubbed his jaw, considering. “You might be on to something.”
“And remember that Christmas Weekend Market you mentioned to Mom a few years ago?” Zoe said, her tone turning wistful. “I always thought that sounded magical.”
“That idea’s been gathering dust,” Wyatt admitted. “There’s already so much happening in Good Hope around the holidays…”
“Still,” Zoe said gently, “maybe there’s a way to make it feel different. Something quieter. More rustic. Candles, local artists, cherry wreaths…”
“Write something up,” Wyatt said after a beat. “I’ll take a look.”
They moved on to other possibilities—jam-making demos, winter firepit nights with cocoa and acoustic music.
Ideas flowed easily, laughter threading through the conversation.
Zoe felt energized in a way she hadn’t in a long time, as though pieces of her past and future were finally beginning to align.
“I like your idea for the Pay It Forward board,” Wyatt said as they stood to leave. “Letting people prepay drinks or snacks for someone else? That’s…that’s Good Hope.”
Zoe smiled and hugged her uncle tightly. “It just feels like the right kind of thing.”
Wyatt slung an arm around her shoulders as they made their way toward the front of the store. “You know what else feels right? You being back here. Working at the Grind. I know your dad always hoped this would happen.”
“I’m enjoying every minute of it,” Zoe said softly. And she meant every word.
At the car, Wyatt extended a hand to John. “Good seeing you again. You and Zoe make a great team. Don’t be strangers.”
You and Zoe.
The words, uninvited but welcome, echoed as John climbed into the passenger seat.