Chapter 9
NINE
ZOE
“Want to take a walk around the lake?” Jackson suggested.
Zoe smiled, because honestly, there was nothing she would love more than stolen moments in the sunshine with him.
“I’d love that,” she said softly, and when he held out his hand, she took it.
Bear Lake shimmered in the late-morning light, the surface dappled with ripples that caught the sun like scattered diamonds.
The air smelled faintly of damp pine and earth, with the sweet undertone of something blooming nearby—wild violets, maybe.
A pair of loons glided across the water.
They took turns, disappearing under the water.
Behind them, downtown Maple Falls buzzed in the background.
A bell chimed from the church on Oak Way, a dog barked, a child’s laughter carried from the park.
Zoe had walked this path a hundred times before, but somehow, today felt different.
The light seemed warmer, the colors more vivid, every sound more alive.
Maybe it was the way Jackson’s fingers brushed against hers as they walked, or how his quiet presence seemed to ground her even as her heart fluttered wildly in her chest.
They followed the path that turned away from town, past budding birch trees and benches carved with names of loved ones. The town council had planted tulips along the edges, tiny pops of red and yellow peeking through the fresh spring grass.
“I love being outside,” Zoe said. “I love my flower shop, too. But out here there’s no ribbon scraps, loose petals, or glitter glue in my hair.”
Jackson’s mouth hitched, almost a smile. “You get glitter in your hair often?”
“Occupational hazard,” she said solemnly.
He stopped walking, inclining his head as he reached toward her. “You, uh… actually do have some right now.”
“What? No, I don’t.”
“Hold still,” he murmured, brushing his fingers lightly through her hair. His touch lingered longer than necessary, the faintest tug of static sparking between them. When he pulled his hand back, tiny specks of gold glitter clung to his fingertips. “See? Evidence.”
She laughed. “Guess I really am a walking craft project. Admit it—you’d miss the old me if I suddenly became neat and sensible.”
Jackson’s fingers tightened slightly around hers. “Yeah,” he said after a beat, voice quieter. “I would.”
They walked until the chatter of town faded behind them completely, replaced by the steady lap of water against the rocks.
The air was cool, but the sun carried just enough warmth to make Zoe lift her face toward it.
She could feel Jackson’s gaze on her, and it made her skin prickle in the best way.
“This good?” she asked when they reached a small wooden bench tucked under a willow.
“Yeah,” Jackson said, “perfect spot.”
He sat first, stretching one arm along the backrest. When Zoe joined him, she leaned into the curve of his arm. From here, she could see the sparkle of the lake, the little boats moored at the far dock, and the faint glimmer of Krista’s Hot Honey Hideaway sign, by the boathouse across the water.
“Peaceful,” she murmured.
“Very,” Jackson said. “Though it’s always better with your company.”
She looked up at him, the words sinking deep. He wasn’t the kind of man who said things like that lightly.
“Careful,” she teased softly. “You almost sound romantic.”
He gave a small smirk. “Don’t tell my brother. He’d never let me live it down.”
She laughed, the sound light and breathy. “And what reputation is that? Brooding farm guy with secret depth?”
Jackson’s mouth quirked in amusement. “You forgot the rest—devastatingly handsome. Pretty sure I heard you say that at the market earlier.”
Zoe’s eyes widened, color rising in her cheeks. “You were not supposed to hear that.”
“Guess I’ve got good hearing,” he said, eyes warm with amusement.
Willow branches ruffled above them. She shifted closer, their thighs brushing. It was innocent enough, but the contact made her pulse trip. She could smell the faint soap-and-cedar scent of him, the warmth of his body beside hers.
For a second, her mind slipped into that dangerous, delicious territory she’d sworn not to visit.
She imagined turning toward him, pressing her lips to his jaw, sliding her hands beneath his jacket until she felt the heat of his skin. He’d kiss her back slowly, deliberately, like he’d been waiting for this as long as she had.
“Earth to Zoe.” Jackson’s voice broke through her daydream, amused.
She blinked, heat rushing to her cheeks. “What? Sorry. I was, um—thinking about tulip bulbs.”
“Right,” he said dryly, one brow arched. “You definitely had that tulip bulb look.”
She swatted at his arm, laughing. “Don’t make fun.”
He smirked. “Didn’t realize tulip bulbs would make you bite your lip like that. You sure it wasn’t something a little more… distracting?”
“You missed your calling as a gentleman.”
He leaned in just slightly. “Never applied for the job.”
The way he was looking at her just then sent heat straight through her. She tore her gaze away, pretending to focus on the rippling water.
“So,” she said, clearing her throat and desperately trying to sound normal, “what’s next for the Local Blooms project?”
Jackson leaned back, his arm still draped around her shoulders.
“I’ve been thinking about the garden,” he said slowly.
“The veterans could grow vegetables themselves, maybe even teach the kids’ group about sustainability.
Something hands-on. People need to feel useful.
Like they’re part of something good. You taught me that. ”
For a moment, all she could do was breathe in the warmth of him, the quiet strength he carried, the way he looked at her like she was someone who mattered. Then his lip curled up in an almost-smile, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You’re something else,” she said, trying to keep things light.
“And yet, here you are,” he said, eyes cutting to her, “still holding my hand.”
She hadn’t even realized she was. Their fingers were entwined again, easy and natural. She didn’t pull away.
“Maybe I’m just committed to the fake-dating mission,” she said softly.
He chuckled, leaning in until his breath stirred her hair. “Good. Because I take my assignments very seriously.”
If anyone passed by right then, they’d look like any other couple stealing a quiet moment by the lake with his arm around her shoulders, their bodies angled toward one another.
She knew it was supposed to be pretend, but to Zoe, it felt achingly real.
Every heartbeat, every inch between them charged with something neither of them could name.
“You know,” she murmured, pulling back to look up at him, “public displays of affection are practically required if we want to win Couple of the Year.”
“Guess I’ll have to practice,” he teased.
Her laugh faltered when he leaned his head toward her, lips close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. She felt the magnetic pull between them. The force that was always there. At that moment, she thought he might actually kiss her.