Chapter 10
TEN
JACKSON
Jackson leaned against his Harley at the edge of the square, waiting. He’d walked Zoe back to her apartment after their stroll around the lake, and she’d darted upstairs to change while he warmed the motorcycle up.
He glanced up when he heard her boots on the sidewalk.
Gone was the floral dress that had fluttered around her knees on their walk, switched out for jeans that hugged her curves just right. Her hair was still loose, catching the sunlight like spun gold as she walked toward him, helmet tucked under one arm.
“Figured I’d be more comfortable this way,” she said, smiling as she reached him.
Jackson’s lips lifted in the corner. “Can’t say I’m complaining.”
She arched a brow. “About the jeans or the fact that you won’t have to stop every five miles to rescue me from a gust of wind?”
“Both. Ready?” he asked, holding out his spare helmet.
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” Zoe said.
Jackson grinned. “It’s just around the lake. I’ll keep it slow.”
He helped her fasten the strap, fingers brushing against her jaw.
Her skin was warm beneath his touch, and when she looked up at him through her lashes, it was all he could do not to close the distance between them.
If it happened, he wouldn’t rush it. It would just be a soft kiss, a gentle reminder of how much she meant to him.
How much these moments meant, when it was just the two of them and the open air.
“Better?” he murmured.
“Better,” she whispered back.
He wondered if she felt the pull too, the magical current that seemed to ebb and flow whenever they were together.
He swung onto the bike and held it steady while she climbed on behind him before slipping her arms around his waist. The heat of her body seeped through his jacket, her hands holding tight. She fit against him perfectly.
He kicked the bike to life and pulled away from the curb. He kept it slow and steady until they were out of the downtown area. Then he gave the throttle a bit of gas, enough to make the bike lurch forward. Zoe tightened her grip around his waist as she gasped.
“You said you weren’t going to go fast!” Zoe yelled over the roar of the engine.
“I lied,” Jackson called back with a chuckle.
They settled into the speed as the Harley hugged along the edge of the lake.
The world blurred into color and sound with blue sky, silver water, and the steady thrum of the engine beneath them.
Zoe’s hands rested lightly at his waist. Each time she shifted, leaning with him into a turn, he felt it like a pulse.
Jackson wished the library wasn’t so close. Days like this, the kind that smelled of thawing earth in sunshine, were meant for getting lost. For taking the long way around the lake, or better yet, heading straight out of town until the road turned to open country and the horizon felt like freedom.
If they were a real couple, they’d pop into the library for a minute, and then he’d tempt her—slowly, with his mouth, with his words, to come away with him.
Maybe they’d head north, up the coast of Lake Michigan. Past the wineries, where green vines curled around their trellises and thousands of grapes swelled in the sun. Past the cherry orchards in full bloom, pink blossoms blanketing the grass, inviting them to stop and stay.
They’d pick up a local bottle of wine, drink it under the branches. Maybe they’d even make love right there. He longed to know how Zoe’s love of adventure and her spontaneous, chaotic personality would transfer to sex.
She loved nature as much as he did. And he would love to feel the world around them, taste it on her skin, feel the grass beneath their bodies, hear the birds chirp above as he whispered her name like a prayer.
That’s what he would do if this were all real.
He parked the bike in the small lot beside the Maple Falls Public Library.
The white-washed brick building looked inviting with the grape hyacinths lining the walkway and the lilac bush looked ready to burst with blooms. Ivy climbed up the back corner and sprawled across the front toward the glass double doors, as if even the plants wanted to take a peek inside.
A wrought-iron bike rack sat beside a wooden bench where two retirees were sipping coffee from thermoses, chatting in that slow, easy way of people who have nowhere else to be.
Jackson cut the engine. The sudden silence felt almost startling after the growl of the Harley, and he waited for Zoe to climb off before doing the same.
“How’s my hair?” she asked, pulling her warm locks over her shoulder and making a face. A few strands clung to her lip balm, others sticking out at wild angles.
He grinned. “You look like you just survived a wind tunnel.”
Her mouth dropped open in mock offense. “Rude.”
“Still cute,” he amended, fighting a smile. “Here.” He tucked the helmet under one arm and reached out with the other, gently smoothing a stray curl back from her cheek.
“Better?” she asked.
“Better,” he agreed, turning away and forcing his thoughts not to wander.
Zoe paused just inside the entrance, her eyes lighting up. “You can’t tell me this isn’t the most romantic building in town.”
Jackson huffed out a quiet laugh. “Pretty sure that title goes to your flower shop.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased, tossing him a grin over her shoulder as she led the way to the back of the library. “Seriously though, I think part of my heart lives here.”
“In the library?” Jackson looked around the space, trying to picture it through her eyes. To him the library was a place his mom had taken him and Liam when they were kids. He’d rarely stepped foot in it since he was young.
“When I came back home last year and was helping Mom out at Cherry Crush, I had way too much free time and not a lot of money. I pretty much lived here, killing time, reading books, drinking coffee, while I put my life back together. It’s where I first began to dream up the Local Blooms project.”
Jackson knew Zoe had been out west, working at one of the national parks as a ranger for most of her twenties. She was unusually quiet about her personal life over the last few years.
“I thought you moved home because you wanted to?” he asked as Zoe navigated them to the nonfiction section.
A shadow passed over her eyes. “I wanted to come home, but not in the way it happened.” Her fingers trailed along the spines of books as she picked her words.
“I suppose we should know each other’s dating history, seeing as we’re a couple now.
” She let the word hang in the air with a hint of sarcasm.
Jackson knew bits and pieces about her past. Everyone in town did.
Zoe had been with someone for years, a guy named Ben, until it suddenly ended.
He didn’t know why, and he didn’t pry. He hated that she’d had her heart broken, but a part of him he didn’t want to acknowledge was secretly grateful Ben hadn’t kept her.
Because if he had, Jackson wouldn’t have had Zoe these last couple of days.
“What an idiot,” Jackson said, loud enough for only her to hear.
Zoe smiled. “Of course you’d say that. I am your girlfriend now.”
“So, what exactly are we looking for?” he asked, guessing she didn’t want to talk about Ben.
“Books,” she said simply. “Old ones. And anything about Maple Falls’s history or geography.
Mr. Alders mentioned that his wife had pressed flowers from the ridge, but that’s miles of land.
If we can find old records or trail maps, we might be able to narrow down where they used to grow—especially near Willow Glen Stream. ”
Jackson leaned against the shelf, watching her fingertips trail along the rows of books. “So basically, you’re looking for buried treasure.”
“Something like that,” she said with a smile. “Except mine grows petals.”
They split up for a while. Sunlight filtered through the high arched windows, falling in soft stripes across the worn wooden floors. The hush of the library amplified the faint scuff of his boots, the creak of the ladder on its track, the turning of pages.
Jackson spotted Zoe in the far corner, framed by rows of shelves stacked high with hardcovers and map boxes. She looked completely at home with her hair falling forward as she balanced a stack of books against her hip.
When they finally regrouped, she had a small pile in her arms, and she set them on the table with a soft thud.
“Not bad for a first mission,” he said.
Her gaze flicked to his mouth. It was the smallest movement, barely noticeable, but it hit him like a jolt. His pulse jumped, heat spreading low and fast through his chest.
He should’ve looked away. Should’ve said something, anything, to break the spell. But he couldn’t. Not when Zoe was right there, close enough that he could see the way her lashes fell, the faint rise and fall of her chest, the pulse beating at the base of her throat.
Jackson’s breath slowed. He leaned in just a fraction, enough that her presence filled his senses.
The world outside the library aisle faded to nothing. The creak of the floorboards, the whisper of the overhead vent all disappeared. There was only her. Her hand resting on the book between them, her fingers brushing the edge of his. The touch felt electric, like the start of a storm.
Zoe didn’t move away. Her lips parted slightly and his gaze dipped, tracing the slope of her throat. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his control hanging by a thread.
Zoe’s fingers curled against the spine of the book, knuckles white, as though she were holding herself in place. The tension between them was so thick he could feel it on his skin.
If he moved another inch, he’d kiss her. If she leaned forward, he wouldn’t stop her.
And God help him, he didn’t know which of them he wanted to move first.
That’s when Mrs. Bishop’s unmistakable voice drifted across the room.
“Well, if it isn’t our Couple of the Year candidates.”
Zoe froze.