Chapter 8
EIGHT
JACKSON
The Maple Leaf Café smelled like strong coffee, sizzling bacon, and warm bread fresh from the oven.
It reminded Jackson of his mother’s kitchen.
It was comforting, familiar, full of noise and love.
There was nothing his mom, Beth Hawthorne, loved more than something delicious and comforting baking in the oven while her family gathered around the table.
Anita, the café owner, waved them in from behind the counter, her dark hair in its usual pixie cut. “Well, if it isn’t Maple Falls’s newest lovebirds,” she teased, leading them toward a window booth.
“Guess rumors travel fast,” Zoe said with a quick grin.
“Sweetheart, this is Maple Falls,” Anita said, setting two menus down. “Rumors travel faster than lightning.”
Zoe laughed. “Fair.”
Jackson followed her into the booth, letting her slide in first. He could feel eyes flicking toward them.
He counted five people at least, including women from the crafting circle, the community church, and even the Ladies’ Guild, who were gathered near the pastry counter.
Mrs. H. had paused mid-bite and leaned forward to hear what Mr. Alders from the hardware store had to say about them.
Anita winked at them. “I hear you two are the favorites for Spring Fling Couple of the Year. I even placed my bet already.”
“Oh, no,” Zoe groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “Don’t tell me my mom got to you too.”
“Got to me?” Anita snorted. “Honey, she was practically shouting it down Oak Way. Said she had the inside scoop on the romance of the season.”
Jackson hid a smile behind his menu. “We can’t let her down now.”
“That’s right,” Anita said, tapping her notepad. “Now what’ll it be, King and Queen?”
“Lemonade, please,” Zoe said quickly, trying to change the subject.
“Same for me.”
“Perfect. I just finished making a batch and it turned out perfect, if I do say so myself.”
Anita glanced at Jackson. “Your mom’s not going to be mad at you for skipping Sunday dinner, is she?”
It was no secret that Beth Hawthorne expected the whole family at her table every Sunday. If you were in town, you showed up.
“Dinner’s not until six these days,” Jackson said with a head shake.
“Later in the spring, with all the farm work piling up.” His dad, Tom, hadn’t said a word when Jackson said he was heading into town to help Zoe.
Jackson had gotten up early, fed Tinsel and Daisy, mucked their stalls, and gave them a brushing out.
He’d work on the tractor later, seeing as it had been backfiring.
It would need a tune-up as they began working the ground, getting the seeds planted for the fall harvest. But he had a bit of time today.
“Just as long as you save some room for her excellent cooking,” Anita said knowingly.
As she walked away, a knock on the front window caught Jackson by surprise.
Instinct took over before he could stop it. His hand clamped the table, heart hammering, blood pounding in his ears. The reaction lasted seconds, composure came back quick, but there was no hiding the truth—he’d just had a flashback in the middle of a diner in the friendliest town in the Midwest.
It was only Gertie, pressing her nose to the glass and waving wildly. She made a heart with her hands, then mouthed, “Adorable!”
Zoe shook her head with an exasperated laugh, mouthing back, “Go!” and shooing her away.
Gertie waved one more time before continuing down Oak Way.
Jackson drew a slow breath, unclenching his jaw. His pulse evened out again. He couldn’t help that he was always on alert even when there was no threat to find. It was just the way his mind was wired now.
Zoe reached across the table and set her hand over his. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah.” His voice came out low, steady again. “Just… surprised me.”
Her thumb brushed his knuckles before she pulled back as Anita delivered their drinks.
Zoe’s concerned expression lingered as she took a sip of her lemonade. A couple of good weeks and it was easy to believe things were back to normal. But they never were. He was a soldier, proud of his service, but that pride came with scars he couldn’t hide.
Maybe Zoe was already wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Why would anyone vote for them as Couple of the Year when half of it was a broken man?
“Heard you were looking for a Maple Falls long-lost flower?” Anita said when she returned with her notepad in hand to take their brunch order.
“You do hear everything, don’t you?” Zoe replied.
“Edith and Hank were in here earlier.”
“Ah, that explains it,” Zoe said.
“Anyway, I got to thinking,” continued Anita. “Margeret Alders, you know, Mr. Alders from the hardware store, his wife?”
“What about her?” Zoe asked.
“Well, she passed away last year. Sweet woman. She showed me a book once, an old pressed-flower album she kept. I’m pretty sure she had some of those blue-and-white blooms. Said they were her favorite.”
Zoe’s eyes widened. “She pressed them?”
“Sure did,” Anita said.
“That’s incredible,” Zoe said, sitting up straighter. “Do you think Mr. Alders still has them?” Her eyes glanced his way.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Anita said. “I don’t see him getting rid of anything of hers. Ask him nicely and he’ll probably show you.”
Zoe beamed at Jackson, that spark of excitement lighting her face, and he couldn’t help the tug of warmth in his chest.
“I’ll be right back!” Zoe scooted out of her booth and walked directly over to the older gentleman, who was sneezing into his handkerchief, a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup beside him.
She came back moments later. “He said he’ll stop by the flower shop and drop off the book tomorrow. It makes me wonder what else I’m missing. Maybe we should check out the library before we go hiking looking for random ridges?”
“Guess we’ve got our next mission.”
“Oh, we’re calling them missions now?” she teased.
He arched a brow. “You’re the one who’s got me undercover as your fake boyfriend. Seems appropriate.”
Zoe laughed softly, the sound curling right around his heart. “Touché.”
Anita dropped off their orders a few minutes later—thick pancakes bursting with blueberries—and left them to their cozy corner.
The light hit Zoe’s face just right, the blue in her eyes bright as spring sky. She caught him staring and cocked her head. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, too quickly, taking a bite of pancake. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
He hesitated, then met her gaze. “How easy this all feels.”
The low hum of conversation and the smell of coffee and warm pastry wrapped around them.
Zoe’s breath hitched, the sound barely audible, but he heard it. He felt it.
She looked down at her plate, smiling to herself, but her voice was quieter when she said, “Yeah. It really does.”
He forced himself to look away, out the window where the town was bathed in sunshine and everyone was out enjoying their Sundays.
Jackson had been through storms and fire, lost friends and years. But nothing had ever undone him quite like this woman sitting across from him, sunlight transforming her into a mirage he could never have—but couldn’t stop wanting.