The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook (Maple Falls #5)

Chapter 1

ONE

ROBYN

Robyn carried two cups of pumpkin spice latte down Oak Way, the breeze teasing strands of her chestnut hair from her face.

Slipping toward the lake, the sun cast everything in warm October light.

The downtown area was decorated with hay bales and pumpkins, and blooms accented wooden barrels and window boxes.

There were bushels of chrysanthemums in buttery yellows, burned oranges, and burgundy.

She inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of woodsmoke, cinnamon, and that warm, sunlit scent Maple Falls always seemed to bottle up this time of year.

This was what she was here for, an extended pause in her favorite season.

Yale had been kind enough to grant her a semester’s sabbatical from her job teaching literature.

And her heart had led her as it so often did, to her grandparents’ picture postcard town.

Robyn wasn’t at all used to taking a break from the career she loved, but after her recent break-up with the man who would now be known only as Professor Beige Cardigan, a getaway had been necessary.

Six weeks in, six to go. All she had to do was run a little bookstore while its owner, her best friend, Meg, was away. What could be more perfect?

The bookstore had been Robyn’s great-grandmother Isabel’s, long before it was Meg’s. Every corner held a memory. October mornings in the cozy space by the window that had been transformed this fall into the “pumpkin pie book nook.”

There, as golden leaves drifted down by the window, generous wedges of pumpkin pie from the local bakery could be slowly enjoyed while customers leafed through books.

A piece of Robyn’s heart lived in that book nook.

Her happiest childhood memories were visiting her grandparents in Maple Falls, and spending hours in that same special space: sunlight through the windows, brown sugar lattes.

Book boyfriends she’d fallen for time after time, curled up in that soft window seat.

So, yes, she couldn’t be happier to have this time in Maple Falls, living right above the bookstore she loved so much.

Expect… it wasn’t quite that simple. A few weeks ago, Meg had asked her and her part-time colleague, the impossibly handsome Tyler, to sell the bookstore.

At first Meg had only planned a short trip to Paris, leaving Robyn and Tyler in charge. But then the opportunity of a lifetime appeared and now she was going to open a bookstore in Paris instead.

Suddenly, they weren’t just holding the fort. They were showing the shop to buyers, tidying shelves, and getting it ready for its next owner, all while Meg lived her Parisian adventure.

Now it was no longer the nostalgic, restorative break Robyn had hoped for. It was such a wrench, to imagine the bookstore in the hands of someone she didn’t know. Still, if helping her best friend live her dream meant selling the store, she would do it. It was what best friends did, right?

But if she was going to have to turn this beloved bookstore over to a stranger, then Robyn had decided, at the very least, she would make sure it went to someone who deserved it.

And she’d already started a list, because it was Robyn, so of course she had.

The perfect buyer would be someone who loved Maple Falls, books, and, of course, cats.

Every good bookstore has a cat. She thought of her own black cat, Mr. Darcy, and how he’d made the bookstore home within forty-eight hours.

He’d claimed the sunniest shelf by 10 a.m. on day one, commandeered the armchair by the window by day two, and by the end of the first week had locals coming in specifically to bring him treats.

She’d also added financially stable and personable to her list, and then immediately second-guessed whether that was too specific, and then decided it wasn’t specific enough and added three more sub-points.

Robyn was mentally debating item five when she glanced up and lost the entire thread.

Her colleague Tyler was in front of the shop.

He was restocking the clearance table, lifting box after box of old books like they weighed nothing.

The sleeves of his green-and-white checked button-down were rolled to his forearms, and Robyn absolutely did not notice the way his shoulders flexed when he shifted the box against his hip.

Her brain, as brilliant as it was, turned traitorous at that moment, serving up an image of those strong, capable hands on her waist, lifting her with the same easy strength.

She swallowed hard and focused on the cups in her hands before she spilled coffee all over herself.

When it came to Tyler, she had a strict look-but-don’t-touch policy. Okay, make that a look-but-don’t-touch-but-100%-fantasize-about-him policy.

And honestly? She deserved some kind of award for sticking to it.

Because Tyler, who’d moved to Maple Falls not so long ago, was easy to want. The attractive single dad with the soft knit sweaters, a love of literature, and a salacious vocabulary made her pulse race.

Then there was his adorable daughter, Emma. The way Tyler doted on her made Robyn’s heart melt a little bit every time she saw them together.

But that’s where it ended.

Because Tyler wasn’t into her.

Or at least, she didn’t think he was.

She’d caught him looking at her more than once, and not in a casual colleague kind of way.

It was a look that lasted a beat too long, but then he’d just as quickly look away.

Whatever was going on behind those eyes, Tyler kept it firmly to himself.

He wasn’t crossing any lines, so she wouldn’t either.

Even if, some days, she wanted to drag the line into a dark corner and thoroughly ruin it.

Robyn shook her head, forcing herself back to sanity. They’d managed to keep things strictly professional for six weeks.

There was no reason she couldn’t last six more.

“Take a break from Yale,” she muttered under her breath. “Sell the bookshop. Do not fall in love with the hot single dad.”

She took a steadying breath, schooled her features, and met him at the table.

“Hey, I was just thinking about you,” Tyler said in his usual casual cadence, the one that suggested he had all the time in the world on his hands. Unlike Robyn, who was used to running from faculty meeting to lecture hall to office hours like a leaf caught in a gale.

“You were?” Robyn blinked up at him, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice, wondering if he thought about her as often as she thought about him. Probably not, because he was on her mind a lot. Daytime, nighttime, in her dreams…

“I thought maybe Emily might’ve kidnapped you at her bakery,” Tyler said with that slow smile of his, shaking his head as he accepted his coffee. It was his reusable mug, the one Emma had made for him, the side decorated with a rainbow and a cheery little Best Dad Ever.

Tyler’s fingers brushed hers—a fraction of a second, really, but it was enough for Robyn to want to lean in toward him.

She forced herself to take a step back.

“Ha, no. But she did bake some pumpkin cinnamon scones, and they are to die for. If she wants an official taste tester, I hate to say it, but you’re on your own here.”

“I’m wounded,” Tyler replied with mock offense, taking a sip and setting down his coffee before moving on to unload another box of books. “And here I thought you liked working with me.” He lifted his eyes, meeting hers. There was a spark in them, the gold in his coffee-colored eyes turning liquid.

But before she could open her lips, the bookstore door chimed, and Mrs. Bishop bustled out onto the sidewalk with her friend Mrs. C. at her heels.

“Yoo-hoo, kids!” Mrs. Bishop announced. “Look what we’ve found.”

The two older women had volunteered—insisted, really—on tackling the back inventory to help clear out old stock for the sale. Mrs. Bishop wore a burgundy knitted cardigan with not one but two pins on the collar: a gold leaf on one side and a pumpkin on the other.

Now she held up a small, thin book, her eyes bright with excitement.

“What is it?” Robyn asked, trying not to be annoyed at the interruption.

“An old book,” Mrs. C. said, matter-of-fact as always.

“A book?” Tyler repeated, his attention snapping fully into place. Robyn could almost see the editor part of him wake up and sit forward. Tyler only worked part-time at the bookstore, but his whole working life revolved around books. Namely fantasy ones with as many dragons as possible.

Robyn reached for the book carefully. It was handbound, the cover wrapped in soft, worn linen, a gold ribbon threaded through the spine. Faded, elegant lettering curled across the front.

Tyler leaned in at the same moment, his shoulder brushing hers. A quick and electric jolt shot straight through her.

Robyn fought to ignore it. Her eyes lifting to his. “I doubt it has any dragons,” she teased.

“Tragic,” Tyler said gravely.

Mrs. Bishop clutched the book. “No, this is even better!”

“Better?” Robyn tilted it toward the light and stopped short. Printed beneath the title, The Spell of October, was Robyn’s great-grandmother’s name, Isabel Valente. The woman who opened this bookstore seventy-five years ago.

“Mm-hmm,” Mrs. C. said, reading Robyn’s thoughts. “Your great-grandmother wrote it.”

“And!” Mrs. Bishop declared, her index finger punctuating the air. “She’s left us a mystery.”

Tyler leaned in closer at that. His hand dropping around Robyn’s waist as he dipped lower to read the cover.

Robyn was locked in place by the heat of his palm and the nearness of his body, every sensible thought slipping away.

She wanted him to move away. She wanted him to pull her closer.

Mostly, she wanted him to never stop touching her.

She didn’t dare look up at him. Not when she was certain every reckless thing she wanted was already written across her face.

“Wow, um… that’s something,” Tyler said, clearing his throat as he stepped back.

And Robyn was left with another mystery that needed to be solved: How soon could she get his hands on her waist again?