Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
ZOEY
“ S ee? Improvement from the last time I opened the door, no?”
Matt stands in the doorway, surveying my leggings and oversized turtleneck sweater.
He cleaned up nicely tonight. A canvas jacket over a flannel button-up shirt, along with a simple pair of jeans and boots.
But it’s his unbound hair, some strands still wet from the shower, that holds all my attention.
I want to run my fingers through it, see if it’s as soft and thick as I remember.
“I don’t know about improvement,” he says under his breath as he steps back so I can exit the house, “but definitely weather appropriate.”
I blush, hopeful that the color rising in my cheeks isn’t visible beneath the faint glow of the moon, and close the door behind me.
Neither of us speaks on the ride to the park, though his knee won’t stop bouncing.
The man is nervous. It’s endearing and honestly, understandable.
I’ve spent most of today working and then went out for a run to take my mind off what the two of us are doing.
To keep from thinking about what will happen if I don’t secure the lot.
Dad was pissed when I called him with the news that the meeting went sideways.
“Deception after deception,” I believe were his exact words.
As we roll up to the park, Matt navigates into what seems like the last available space.
“You weren’t lying when you said it was popular,” I muse, looking around.
Dozens of people sit on blankets spread out over the grass, bundled up against each other in front of the big screen at the far end of the green.
“Nope. Nobody wants to miss the last one of the season.” He unlocks his phone and taps at the screen quickly, then puts it away. “Ready?”
I smile weakly, my heartbeat speeding up like a hummingbird taking flight. “Let’s go.”
As I climb out of the vehicle, the gentle air soothes my heated skin. The scents of buttery popcorn and cotton candy waft from a grouping of food trucks lit up by strings of lights hanging from nearby trees.
“Can you help me out?” Matt asks in the back.
“Coming.” I circle the truck and find him snagging blankets from the bed.
“Take these two. I’ll get the rest,” he says, holding them out.
I obey, tucking them under my arm while he picks up the what’s left, along with a small basket.
“Do you always come this prepared?”
“Only when I have someone to impress.” He winks.
I steady myself on the frame of the truck.
Oh, okay, so we’ve started pretending. Shit, it’s gonna take some getting used to.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well. It’s working.”
Matt stares at me, silent for the space of two heartbeats, before nodding toward the gathering. “Let’s find a spot.”
We walk side by side, closer than friends should. All along, his arm brushes mine over and over, lingering long enough to make it look intentional. I catch his eyes on me several times, hiding smiles and stealing glances as if he can’t help himself.
God, he’s good at this.
As we move through the crowd, the attention on us grows heavier, more and more frowns appearing on questioning, concerned faces.
The mayor, Rob, and his wife, are set up in a pair of camping chairs.
He nods at me in greeting, and I nod back.
In the distance, Rosie sits with a group of friends.
She shoots me a deadly glare before turning back to the conversation going on around her.
My shoulders drop. I itch to walk over to her and explain myself, but something tells me she would rather spend a month being violently sick than speak to me ever again.
“Here okay?” Matt asks when we reach an empty spot in the middle of the park.
“That’s perfect.”
He sets the basket on the ground and spreads one blanket out, then adds a second on top. When he takes the two I’ve been holding, his fingers brush and linger against mine.
A shiver rolls down my spine.
“Are you cold?”
I fold my arms in front of me and rub them. “A little.”
The lie slips out. I promised I would be honest from now on, but there’s no way I’ll admit to how easily he affects me. So instead, I turn toward the food trucks, cataloging the options.
Matt rests his palm on my back. “We could grab something warm to eat, and a hot chocolate if you want. My treat,” he adds.
“That sounds nice.” His hand on me pulls my focus completely and I lose my train of thought. It’s a simple touch, but still, my body temperature rises several degrees, and suddenly, I’m not so cold anymore.
All the way to the food trucks, his hand is a steady presence, grazing at times, more pressing at others, burning an irrevocable mark into my skin.
People nod at him and stop to say a quick “hi” or a “how have you been?” Everybody we meet knows and loves him. With each greeting, envy grows inside me. Because he’s still a stranger to me, and already, it’s clear he’s someone worth knowing.
“That’s Mia.” Matt jerks his chin at a young woman behind the counter of a food truck. Her brown hair falls to her shoulders, her long bangs hanging over her eyes. “She owns the only bakery in Pine Falls. She makes the best pastries. The whole town loves her, so you’ll want her to like you too.”
I swallow. “Noted.”
When the couple in front of us is served and we step forward, Mia’s face lights up.
“Hey, Matt!” she chirps. “Long time no see.” Her eyes flick to me, and then she does a double take and blinks. “Oh, um… Zoey, right? The woman who wants to build that fancy resort on Emile’s land?”
“Not a—”
“The one and only.” Matt tightens his grip around my waist and brings me closer to him. “That town hall was something, huh?”
I am so confused right now. What’s happening? Shouldn’t he be singing my praises?
Mia releases an awkward chuckle. “True. It got a little out of control toward the end.” She shoots me a sympathetic look. “Nothing against you, but we have to protect our people and our town. Especially after the stunt your dad pulled.”
I get it. My dad’s approach two years ago hit a nerve. But I’m not him, am I?
I force my lips to tip up in a smile, summoning all the friendliness I can muster. I’m used to dealing with corporate bros and business moguls rather than actual people, and it shows.
“I get it. I’d do the same thing if I were in your shoes.”
Matt slides his hand from my waist up to my arm and wraps me in a side hug. “Actually, the whole evening was my fault,” he says to Mia. “I was so pissed when I found out Zoey was Oscar’s daughter that I lost it. But since then…”
He pauses, his gaze melting into mine before slowly drifting to my mouth.
It’s only a few seconds, but the heat in his stare coaxes my lips apart.
With an uneven breath, he drags his focus back to Mia, who hasn’t missed a beat of the show he’s just put on.
“Since then,” he continues, his voice husky, “I’ve gotten to know Zoey and her project, and… she’s got something special here.”
He gives me a quick squeeze, and I lean into him on instinct.
“Oh, wow. I didn’t know you two had spent so much time together,” Mia says, eyes wide.
Matt shrugs. “After the meeting, I wanted to apologize for my behavior. One thing led to another, and… Let’s just say I no longer judge a book by its cover. Right, beautiful?”
I flush hard at the sound of the endearing nickname he’s given me. He’s called me that once before. Against a wall. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it for days.
“Right,” I say with a strangled laugh, patting his chest. “We both had some groveling to do.”
He leans in and buries his face in my hair, murmuring, “That’s a nice visual.”
I cough, my cheeks flaming.
“Well,” Mia says, dusting her fingers on her apron. “That certainly wasn’t on my bingo card for tonight. Anything I can get you two before the movie starts?”
“What do you want, Zoey?” Matt’s voice is barely a whisper, so quiet I don’t think Mia heard the question. Like it was meant only for me.
He holds my gaze, and for a moment, I get lost in his. I forget that he’s waiting for my answer. I forget that Mia is waiting for our order. I forget that the movie is starting in a minute.
It’s impossible to think clearly when he’s looking at me like he can’t believe his luck.
Fuck. Scratch him being good at this. He’s lethal.
I glance at the counter full of pastries, at the list of at least a dozen types of hot chocolate and other warm drinks.
I’m lost. There are too many options, and I’m suddenly sweating over sweet treats.
I don’t usually do this, and as pathetic as it sounds, cookies and hot chocolate aren’t exactly on the menu at investor happy hours or fundraising galas.
“I don’t know.” I peer up at Matt. “You choose.”
Brows knitted together, he searches my face. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I say with a faint stretch of my lips.
With a sigh, like he’s still not convinced but he isn’t going to argue in front of Mia, he scans the display. “Two brownies and two hot chocolates with marshmallows and extra whipped cream, please.”
Mia perks up and snags a pastry box from a stack beside her. “Coming right up.”
She boxes our order and pours the drinks while Matt pays.
“There you go.” She hands me the box, and Matt takes the hot chocolates. The smell is so rich and sweet, it makes my mouth water.
“Thanks, Mia,” Matt says. “See you around.”
Just as we’re turning, Mia calls out. “Oh, Zoey! You should stop by when you have a chance. I’d love to hear more about your plans.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yeah.” She grins. “Do you know how hard it is to change this guy’s mind? If you’ve done it, then I’m intrigued.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Matt says to Mia, then to me. “Come on. The movie is starting.”
I wave to Mia and follow Matt to our spot. “That went well, I think.”
He sets the hot chocolates down on the blanket. “Yeah. She’s sweet, though. That was an easy win for you.”
He bunches up the blankets to create a bit of cushioning, then gestures for me to sit.
“Thank you.” I settle down and pick up one hot chocolate while Matt gets busy unpacking the basket. “Will you be upset if I take a sip before you join me? It smells so good.”
He turns to me, his lips kicked up on one side. “Not at all. Go ahead while it’s still hot.”
I press my mouth to the plastic lid and tilt the cup slowly. The moment the sweetness of the chocolate registers, a moan rumbles out of me.
“Oh god, this is good.”
I take a second sip, savoring the rich flavor, unable to hold back another embarrassing noise.
When was the last time I had hot chocolate? Probably when I was five or six, maybe? Back when it was still considered “age appropriate,” as my dad liked to say. I can’t believe I gave up something so simple, so ridiculously comforting, all on my own.
A lump forms in my throat, my eyes stinging as I bring the cup to my lips again.
A freaking hot chocolate.
And for what? For work? To please my father?
Matt exhales a chuckle as he rifles through the basket. “We said we’d take it slow. If you continue making those sounds, people will—”
He turns to me and stops cold. In a heartbeat, he’s next to me, his fingers pressing on my arms. “Hey, Zoey, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” I say, half crying, half laughing. If he didn’t think I was crazy before, he definitely does now.
He cups my cheeks, forcing me to look at him as he wipes away a tear.
“Tell me,” he whispers, unruffled by the yo-yo of my emotions.
“It’s silly.” Fingers tightening around the plastic cup, I shake my head. “You’re going to laugh at me.”
“I would never do that.”
Gosh, this is mortifying. Crying in front of my mom is embarrassing enough, but in front of a man I just met? Is the deal really worth more than my dignity? I didn’t even know I could cry like that anymore.
Vision blurry, I lift my chin and steady my voice the best I can.
“I can’t remember the last time I drank hot chocolate.
” I sniffle. “If I can’t recall something as simple as that, what else have I erased from my life?
What else have I missed out on? I couldn’t even order for myself back there because I don’t know what I like.
I got overwhelmed by the possibilities and the unknown. ”
I exhale harshly. Get it together. You’re a fucking grown woman, not a child.
“Sorry,” I say. “That was a lot. I’m not doing well with our ‘no getting personal’ rule, am I?”
“Don’t apologize.” His thumb draws circles on my cheek in a soothing pattern, the warmth of it lingering like soft aftershocks. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling overwhelmed. I feel that way all the time.”
“You’re very good at hiding it,” I murmur.
He laughs, low and deep. “I’m not. But the goal shouldn’t be to hide what we feel.
If a hot chocolate leads to an eye-opening moment for you, that’s okay.
It doesn’t matter what brought that realization to your mind.
All that matters is what you learn from it and what you choose to do next with that knowledge. ”
I’m too stunned to reply. I wish somebody had said that to younger Zoey, when she was fighting back tears for fear of being yelled at because “women will never be taken seriously if they’re always crying or showing emotions.”
Matt lowers his hand to his lap.
“Thank you,” I say, pushing the words past the knot in my throat as I dry my tears.
“Nothing to thank me for.” He tilts his head toward the screen where the movie has started. “Should we watch?”
“Yes, great idea.” I take a deep breath, centering myself.
He settles next to me and drapes a blanket over my shoulders.
I grasp the edges and tighten it around me. “Thank you.”
“Have you ever seen Pretty Woman ?”
“Never,” I say after another hit of hot chocolate that calms my frayed nerves.
“That makes it all the more special, then.” He slides his arm around my waist and pulls me to him, all bundled up in my blanket.
I lean into him willingly, his warmth soothing the last of my anxiety. His firewood and daisies scent swirls around me in a dangerously tempting blend. I want to lift my face and press my nose to the hollow of his neck, inhaling until he’s all I can breathe.
My brain screams at me that none of this is true, but I ignore it. Let me pretend a little longer. Just for the rest of the night.
The sky is dark now, except for the stars twinkling above us. The film plays, and I curl further into his side, his body solid and steady beside mine. The whole time, his arm stays draped around my waist, his legs stretched casually in front of him.
Without giving it a second thought, I rest my head on his shoulder. I don’t move or say anything when he leans into me in return.