Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
ZOEY
I’m freezing. Tired. In a crappy mood.
Why, oh why, did I feel the selfless need to drag myself out of bed at the crack of dawn to pick up breakfast for Matt and his sister?
I could have done a million other things. Like sleep. Go for a run. Get a jump on today’s to-do list. Sleep. Sort out my emails. Sleep .
I tug my coat tighter and bounce on my toes, but it does little to combat the cold that’s already burrowing deep into my bones.
I glance up at the bakery’s windows, still dark and uninviting.
The silver lining this morning? I can chat with Mia again and check in after our talk last night. See how she feels about me now.
Though when I walked past Rosie’s café on my way here, a heavy weight settled in my chest. I’m such a coward.
I’ve been avoiding her since the disaster of the town meeting, too petrified that if I walk in, she’ll downright refuse to serve me.
I don’t think I could handle it if the first person in town to show me kindness now hated my guts.
Inside the bakery, the lights flicker on and a silhouette appears at the door, flipping around the sign that now reads We’re open!
The knob rattles as Mia turns the lock, then the door swings open. When her eyes land on me, they widen comically.
“Zoey! What are you doing here this early?”
“I’m asking myself the same question,” I mumble, burrowing deeper in my coat. “Can I…” I motion behind her, toward the cozy interior, desperate for more of the warmth seeping out through the doorway.
“Yes, of course.” She shuffles out of the way. “Come in, come in. It’s toasty inside.”
“Thank you.”
It’s not just the inviting temperature that welcomes me when I step in; it’s also the buttery smell of freshly baked croissants, bread still warm from the oven, and the spice of cinnamon sprinkled on apple muffins.
Okay, now I regret my decision a little less.
“How do you get through your days here without eating everything?” I ask, salivating over the stack of croissants like Pavlov’s dog over a treat.
“Lots of discipline.” She ties an apron behind her back. “Keeping my business afloat for one, along with the promise of high cholesterol.”
A chuckle bubbles past my lips. “That’ll do it.”
She smiles politely. “What can I get you this morning?”
“Hum…” I survey the display. “Do you know what Matt and his sister like? I want to drop off a little treat before they start their day.”
For the second time in five minutes, Mia’s eyes widen in surprise. “You’re bringing Matt breakfast?”
“Attempting.”
With the tongs, she snags two croissants and an apple turnover and slips them into the bag.
Holding the goods out, she beams. “The croissants for Matt, the turnover for Daphne.”
“I didn’t know Matt had a go-to order,” I say, retrieving the bag.
“Oh, everyone in Pine Falls does. That’s just how it is in a small town. We all know each other’s routines and quirks. That’s why it’s nice when someone new shows up. Fresh faces keep things interesting. And don’t worry,” she adds with a wink, “Everybody is welcome here, hiking skills or not.”
I grimace. “Not everybody .”
She presses her lips into a thin line. “There may be a few exceptions, but they’re typically reserved for those whose motives we’re concerned about.”
“My only motive is to help visitors enjoy nature and everything Pine Falls has to offer.” I scan the mouthwatering array of pastries. “You know, the lodge could use a supplier who’d curate thoughtful breakfast baskets for the guests.”
She quirks a brow. “You’d work with businesses around here?”
“My father really did a number on you guys, didn’t he?
” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I know how difficult he can be.
But I’m not my father, Mia. The way he does business is not the way I do business.
Plus, the lodge—I prefer that term to hotel—isn’t part of the offshoot of the company he was pitching for a few years ago.
We’re a big corporation, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work with locals and build accommodation that makes sense for the community. ”
“I see.” Mia stares off in space, as if processing my words.
Eventually, she focuses on me again, a glint in her eyes.
“It’s been a rough year for the bakery. Peak season is always busy, but when the foot traffic slows, I often struggle.
It’s a shame, because the nature here has so much to offer all year round.
” She bites her lip. “Next time you stop in, bring your proposal with you. I’d like to take a quick look. ”
Yes .
Though I want to jump up and down, I stick with smiling warmly as I sidestep to the register and slip my credit card out. “I can absolutely do that.”
“So, you and Matt, huh?” Mia asks as she inputs my purchases.
“Me and Matt? Oh n—”
Mia narrows her eyes, her expression going wary.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes , me and Matt. You dufus .
“—othing too serious so far.” I swallow. “It’s very new.”
The lines on her face smooth out. “I’m glad to see him back to his happy self. He hasn’t been the same since Andie left.”
Andie . Am I supposed to know who that is? Would Matt tell a new girlfriend who Andie is?
I tap my card on top of the reader, and as I put it back in my pocket, I decide to reply with the truth. Isn’t that how the best lies begin? Stay as close to reality as possible? “He’s been a nice change for me too. Unexpected.”
“Unexpected always makes for the strongest relationships.” She nods like she uttered a well-known tidbit of wisdom that has been passed down from generation to generation.
I put the receipt in my jacket, the word sticking with me.
Last night felt just like that. Unexpected.
Everything about him was. The gentleness in his voice, his soothing touches, the solid weight of his body against mine.
I could have stayed like that for another three or four movies, not bothered—for probably the first time in my life—about the clock or keeping myself together.
I cried , for god’s sake. That, too, was unexpected.
I flash a half smile at Mia, who’s still watching me intently.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I tell her as I step away from the counter. “I’ll stop by tomorrow with the proposal.”
Back at my car, I slump behind the wheel, dropping the bag on the passenger seat, and stare through the windshield.
He hasn’t been the same since Andie left.
Mia’s statement pokes at me, prodding questions that are practically burning a hole in my tongue.
Who is Andie? Is she the ex with whom things ended badly? What did she do to you? What happened? Are you okay now?
Would he answer if I asked? Probably not. He’s been insistent when it comes to that absurd rule.
I can’t help but want to know more, and though I try to shake it, the strange feeling stays with me all the way to Matt’s place.
When I get there, the porch lights are off. I lean against the wheel, peering up at the closed curtains.
Are they still sleeping? Did I wake up early for nothing ?
Ugh .
I’m here now, so I have to at least knock. I kill the engine, climb out, and stride to the front door, burying myself in my coat again.
I rap my knuckles on the solid wood and wait. If nobody answers after two minutes, I’ll drop the bag and leave.
Twenty seconds later, there’s a click, and the door opens.
On the other side, Matt’s eyes widen. “Zoey?” he scrubs at his face, his hair a wild mess. “W-what are you doing here?” He peers over his shoulder, then takes a step forward— barefoot —and pulls the door mostly shut behind him.
Okay, so he just woke up. No big deal. Nothing to get all worked up about, even though it feels like I’ve intruded on a very private moment of his life.
Sleep still clings to his lashes, softening his face despite the marks left by his sheets.
A well-worn white shirt hangs loosely on his chest and falls over a pair of gray sweatpants that do nothing —or the lord’s work, depending on the point of view—to hide that he’s not wearing anything underneath.
I swallow, forcing my eyes up, and with my best smile plastered to my face, I jiggle the bag in my hand. “Breakfast is served?”
“You brought b—”
The sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs stops him. He mutters under his breath, turning toward the inside of the house. As the door flies open, his body goes rigid.
A girl wearing rose-print pajamas with hair as bright as the sun appears at Matt’s side. She looks to be about twelve, maybe thirteen. His sister, then.
Matt is rooted to the spot, a shadow of tension falling across his face. He drapes an arm over the girl’s shoulders and draws her close.
Damn. I’m only bringing breakfast, not weapons.
His sister inspects me from head to toe. “Your sweater is so pretty, but your shoes are ugly.”
A huff of a laugh escapes me as Matt coughs into his fist.
“Daphne,” he chides gently, “we don’t say that to people we just met.”
“It’s fine,” I cut in, still chuckling. “You’re right. My shoes are ugly. I have prettier ones at home, but I can’t wear them here.”
I give Matt a cheeky wink, a strange thrill zipping through me as his panic morphs into confusion.
“Why not?” she asks.
“Because they’re not very… practical. Right, Matt?”
“Right,” he rasps, still watching me like I’m from another planet.
“What’s in there?” his sister nods to the bag.
“I brought breakfast for you guys.” I hold it out.
She lets out a little gasp, her hands fluttering at her sides. “Are you eating with us?”
“I have to get back to work, but it would’ve been lovely.”
It really would have been, but I have a feeling one person in this group wouldn’t be so comfortable with the idea.
“Daph, go put on socks. I’ll be inside in a minute, okay?”
“Okay. Bye! Thanks for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome!” I wave, but she’s already disappeared behind her brother.
“I’m sorry.” Matt rakes his fingers through his long hair. “That’s my sister. She doesn’t mean to be rude. She’s autistic.”