Chapter 11
ELEVEN
ZOE
Monday morning in downtown Maple Falls had its own kind of rhythm.
The sleepy weekend hum gave way to the gentle bustle of shopkeepers unlocking doors, the hiss of espresso machines from the Pumpkin Pie Bakery, and the faint clang of the bell from a delivery truck.
The air smelled of fresh bread, rain-washed pavement, and the first hint of blooming lilacs from the square.
Zoe paused outside her flower shop, catching her reflection. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, still a little wild from the breeze. Her cheeks were pink, her lips lifted in a smile she couldn’t quite shake.
Maybe it was the sunshine, maybe it was the spring air, or maybe it was the dream she’d had about Jackson.
Her very own Moonlight Kiss.
They were in the library, alone, in the night.
She climbed the rolling ladder to fetch a book.
But the moment she stepped up, she felt Jackson behind her. Quiet, steady, close enough that the air shifted with his breath.
Jackson didn’t speak at first. His hand rested lightly on the ladder’s frame, steadying it. Steadying her. She looked down, and his eyes were already on her, dark and smoldering.
“I thought you were looking for a book,” he murmured.
“I was,” she whispered, though she couldn’t have said what book if her life depended on it.
“Still want it?”
She looked down and rational thought slipped away, replaced by the pulse of her heartbeat and the quiet electricity stretching between them.
His hands slid up the backs of her thighs, slow and sure, finding the hem of her skirt. The old wood creaked softly beneath her feet as he bunched the fabric in his fists.
Dream Zoe was warm and aching, and she wasn’t wearing anything under her skirt.
Jackson made a sound low in his throat, something between a groan and a prayer. He dropped to his knees at the base of the ladder, spreading her legs gently around the rails, pressing one kiss to the inside of one knee, and then the other, as he slowly made his way up her body.
The world narrowed to the sound of the ladder creaking, the warmth of his hands on her skin, the steady pull of her heartbeat matching his. Every inch of her leaned toward that next touch, that inevitable, impossible moment when his mouth found her center.
Zoe gasped, clutching the sides of the ladder as his tongue was there, slow and deliberate. His hands held her steady, one at each thigh, thumbs stroking her skin in time with his mouth.
She couldn’t move.
Not with the way her balance teetered on each rung, not with the way pleasure licked up her spine like fire.
Jackson licked deeper, firmer, dragging his tongue along her clit and making her vision blur. Her forehead pressed to the ladder’s cool wood. Her thighs trembled. The room around her swayed.
But his grip never wavered.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured against her, and then he did it again. He was slower this time. Savoring her. Driving her wild.
Zoe’s breath came in short, desperate bursts.
Her fingers clung to the rails, the old brass cold against her palms. Books towered around them and the smell of parchment and pine dusted the air.
Outside the stained-glass window, moonlight spilled through in fractured patterns, casting a kaleidoscope of light across the spines and shelves.
He sucked gently, just enough to make her cry out. Her hips jerked forward, instinct chasing pleasure, but the ladder rocked in warning, and Jackson’s hand flew up, steadying her.
“Careful,” he whispered. “I said hold on.”
“I’m trying,” she managed, breathless.
His fingers joined in then, sliding inside her, filling her in a slow, coaxing rhythm while his mouth stayed focused on her clit. She could feel herself coming apart, every part of her drawn tighter and tighter, and still, he kept her there. Breathless. On the edge.
And then she had woken up, heart racing, body aching with need.
It was rather cruel the way her body craved that orgasm even now, several hours later.
The feeling of Whiskers’s soft fur weaving around her ankles snapped Zoe out of her steamy thoughts.
“No, no, no, get back inside,” Zoe said to Whiskers, who was attempting to sneak out. “What has gotten into you lately? You, my friend, are an indoor cat.”
Whiskers sneezed and batted at her face.
“You heard me, back inside.” Zoe held the shop door open as Whiskers took her good ol’ sweet time sauntering back inside.
Zoe smiled after her, but her mind was already drifting to the mystery flower. She still hadn’t found any mention of the Northern Loop or Cherry Blossom Trail in the old books from the library, and it was starting to bug her.
Pulling out her phone, she texted:
Hey, Mom. Ever heard of the Northern Loop or Cherry Blossom Trail?
Her phone buzzed a minute later.
Oh sure, I remember the Cherry Blossom one. I think.
Any idea where?
It ran behind the orchard past Willow Glen, right before that one bridge.
The bridge by Mr. Alders’ place?
Could be! Or maybe the bridge by the cherry stand. Hard to say. I haven’t been up that way since I tried to picnic there and got chased off by geese. Terrible day. Good potato salad, though.
Zoe shook her head. Her mom really wasn’t much help, but she loved her just the same.
She pocketed her phone and turned to the next task at hand, which was switching out her welcome mat from winter to her spring edition.
The bright blue wicker mat was stenciled with white daisies and the word Welcome in a curly script.
She was also pulling out her miniature orange tree now that the danger of frost had passed.
She loved that little tree, even if the oranges it produced tasted more bitter than a lemon.
“Must be spring if that tree’s out,” Emily said. She owned the Pumpkin Pie Bakery across the street and a few shops down. Her blonde hair was pulled back in her usual top knot, framing her heart-shaped face. Judging by the bag in her hand, she’d made a quick stop at the local hardware store.
“Can’t resist bringing her out. It’s tradition,” Zoe said with a smile, adjusting one of the tree’s glossy leaves. “Clementine and I have survived five winters together. She’d never forgive me if I left her inside on the first warm day.”
Emily laughed softly. “Spring is such a beautiful season. All the flowers, baby animals, and pastel colors—love everywhere. I just need to find a man to stroll through the Spring Market with me.”
Zoe’s brows lifted with interest. “No luck yet?”
Emily gave a light laugh. “Please. Half the men in town are either already dating, married, retired, or allergic to commitment. I’m starting to think I should just date my mixer.
At least it never lets me down. Oh, which reminds me.
I have a citrus bar recipe that you’ve gotta try.
Those tart oranges of yours would be perfect. ”
“Ooh, tell me more.”
Emily went on to describe the recipe before heading on her way, but truthfully, Zoe had only been half listening. Instead, she was thinking about what it would be like to bake with Jackson.
They could be like any other couple, spending quiet time in the kitchen, mixing and stirring something while soft, jazzy music played in the background.
He’d come up behind her, put his arms around her waist, and nuzzle her neck while they swayed together.
She’d playfully tell him to stop, but secretly she’d love every second of it.
If she were his real girlfriend, she’d twirl in his arms, slip her hands around his neck, and pull him down for a kiss that would only escalate from there. She felt so safe in Jackson’s arms.
In a perfect world, she’d tell him that. She’d lay her heart out, bare her soul, and see where the cards fell. She’d almost done it once.
It was prom. They’d all gone in one big friendship group after she’d chickened out and didn’t ask Jackson.
In her defense, he didn’t ask her either.
And there was no one else she was remotely into.
Most of the boys were immature and childish.
Even back then, she’d known she wanted someone who saw her as a person, who cared about her mind, her dreams and not just her body. That was hard to find in high school.
She thought she’d found it with Jackson.
They were best friends, which was the only thing that stopped her from pouring her heart out as he twirled her around the dance floor to “You Belong With Me.” He’d looked at her, their eyes catching, her breath hitching, and she’d been ready to tell him she loved him.
Maybe it was the dim lighting, the soft music, the couples pressed close all around them…
It was their moment, just like in the music video.
Then he’d said something like, “I’m so lucky to have a friend like you. ”
Talk about a gut punch.
Jackson’s comment had her swallowing her words.
He wasn’t wrong. She was lucky to have a friend like him, and she cared about their friendship more than anything.
If they stopped being friends, she’d be heartbroken.
She couldn’t risk it, not when he’d never once made a pass at her.
Not when he left for boot camp. Not when he shipped overseas.
Not when there was a chance he might never come home again.
Not once at any going away party, bonfire, or kayak trip did he say or do anything to make her think he cared for her as more than a friend. So she’d kept quiet. Year after year.
But now?
Now something felt different. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he was just a very, very good actor, and she was falling for his performance.