Chapter 2
TWO
TYLER
Tyler wasn’t sure what had possessed him to lean down like that, but one touch, just a hand on her waist, was enough to set him on fire.
Down the street, a gust of wind sent the hanging baskets outside Zoe’s flower shop swaying, sending petals floating to the ground and gold leaves scattering across the sidewalk.
Tyler forced himself to take a step back, embarrassed by how shaky his breath sounded even to his own ears.
How aware he still was of the shape of her beneath his palm.
The small hitch in her breath. The warmth of her through the thin fabric of her sweater.
It was madness, what being near this woman did to him.
She made him want things, things he told himself he didn’t need. Things that didn’t exist in his reality, not since his daughter Emma’s mom walked out years ago, and Tyler closed that chapter in his life.
Or so he thought.
Robyn was his undoing.
Whip-smart, strikingly beautiful, and entirely too easy to want. The Yale literature professor with dark, wavy hair, tortoiseshell glasses, and a mouth that made every sensible thought in his head abandon him.
He should have been focused on the book.
Instead, he couldn’t stop looking at her.
The late-afternoon light caught the side of her face, making the dark waves of her hair glow amber at the edges.
And those lips? Parted in surprise, and oh so kissable?
It was enough to make him want to turn and kiss her right then and there, letting the excitement of the discovery, and the chemistry that had been sparking between them for weeks, finally have its moment.
His hand flexed at his side.
But he didn’t touch her.
Of course he didn’t.
Because they were just two coworkers, standing outside the bookstore with Mrs. C. and Mrs. Bishop, having a normal conversation on a Tuesday afternoon.
Even if nothing about the day felt normal.
Tyler couldn’t explain it. He was drawn to this woman, to her life, even though he knew he shouldn’t be. Everything with Robyn was temporary.
She was here for a few months of Maple Falls’s charm before she went back to her real life in Connecticut. Back to Yale and tenure-track meetings and whatever else people did when they weren’t deciding between pumpkin or apple pie.
And even if she weren’t temporary… what then?
His brain did what it always did: It pulled Emma into the frame.
Tyler’s daughter was the quiet north star behind every decision he made. After her mother left, he’d promised himself he would never put Emma in a position where she’d get attached to someone who might disappear. Never again.
So he was going to keep his distance from Robyn.
He was.
Which was why he would never act on his desires. Never take whatever this was between them any further. The playfulness, the flirting, the stolen looks—that was all it could be.
He cleared his thoughts and took one step back, then another, giving Robyn a chance to scan the note inside the book before reading it aloud:
Dear Reader,
If you’re holding this, then you’ve found the first piece of my tale, written right here in my beloved bookstore.
The other three installments are hidden around Maple Falls, spirited away by my friends in the Maple Falls Book Club. The first clue waits here, tucked inside this envelope. Follow it, and it will take you to the next clue—and the next pages of my story.
Our hope is simple: that this little adventure brings people together, stitched by the same love of books that bound us. And when you reach the last page, perhaps you’ll feel me near—in your hearts, and in the golden leaves of autumn.
With love,
Isabel
“I didn’t know Great-Grandma Isabel was a writer,” Robyn murmured to herself.
“Well,” Mrs. Bishop declared, “this is the most exciting thing to happen around here in a hot minute.”
Mrs. C. plucked the manuscript neatly from her hands.
“We’ll take this straight to the library and make photocopies.”
“Wait—” Robyn began, but it was useless.
Mrs. C. handed the twine-tied envelope, which had been tucked inside the book, to Tyler. The first clue.
“We’ll return this shortly,” she said, acting as if she were borrowing a casserole dish and nothing more.
“Don’t open that clue yet,” Mrs. Bishop warned. “We must do it together.”
“Together… yes…” Mrs. C. was thinking, her eyes growing distant. “We must reinstate the Maple Falls Book Club.”
“Oh, yes. It’s been years since we’ve had one. Decades, really,” Mrs. Bishop chimed in.
“It’s been far too long. Leave it to me. I’ll arrange everything. We’ll read the story and follow the clues as a group. Do. Not. Open it,” Mrs. C. reiterated, pointing at the two of them like the bossy librarian she used to be.
Tyler felt mildly shell-shocked, but he was obedient to a fault. He held the envelope out to Robyn.
She took it carefully.
“We’ll be back in a jiffy!” Mrs. Bishop called, already marching down the sidewalk beside Mrs. C.
The moment they were out of earshot, Tyler let out a quiet laugh.
“You realize she’ll have book club flyers printed by tonight, right?”
Robyn exhaled. “Guess I’d better put this inside then.”
“Here, let me,” Tyler said, grabbing the door for them both.
The wind swirled around them, lifting the strands of her hair, scattering dried leaves, and sending the scent of her—crisp apples, sweet cinnamon, and amber—straight to his senses.
She’s not a freaking apple tart, he told himself. But then again, he’d bet that she’d taste just as sweet.
Tyler shoved his free hand into the pocket of his khakis to keep from reaching for her.
It was those thoughts that kept Tyler busy with the last boxes from the stockroom and away from Robyn, stacking them near the clearance table so they could sort them tomorrow.
He worked three, sometimes four days a week at the bookstore, and the rest of his time he spent editing remotely for a New York publisher—lots of reading, lots of deadlines, and a quarterly flight to the Big Apple that always made him miss Maple Falls before he’d even left it.
He hadn’t expected to care so much about this bookstore. He’d taken the job to help Meg out when his work slowed. It was supposed to be temporary.
Now, with the For Sale sign haunting the window, he felt… oddly protective. Like the place was part of the town’s heartbeat. Like it belonged to Robyn too, which was, again, not helpful.
He glanced toward the counter where Robyn was ringing up the last customer, her voice warm and polite, her smile easy in a way that made Tyler’s heart squeeze.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Tyler had to look away before he started imagining what it would feel like to do it for her.
Absurd.
He lifted another box and tried to focus on the weight in his hands.
“Pumpkin pie?”
Robyn had magically appeared at his elbow, holding a small plate in one hand and a fork in the other.
Tyler’s eyes caught on her jeans first—then her navy sweater, then the coppery highlights in her hair that looked almost golden under the warm shop lights. He forced himself to blink like a normal human.
“It was the last slice,” she said. “I figured we could share it.”
“Sure,” he said, like it wasn’t the easiest yes of his life.
Robyn led him to the café area in the back corner of the shop. An oversized window was on each side, letting in plenty of fall sunshine and views of Bear Lake through the maple trees beyond.
Meg had set up a complimentary coffee station along the back wall to accompany the daily pie delivery from Emily’s bakery, naming the space the pumpkin pie book nook. What had started as a pop-up had turned into a full-time arrangement, with Emily dropping off fresh pumpkin pie every morning.
Robyn perched on the cushioned bench, a café table between them, and angled toward him. He sat opposite her on a wooden chair and suddenly had no idea where to put his hands.
Robyn took the first bite and sighed.
“Okay,” she said, eyes bright. “This is criminal. How is pie this good?”
Tyler’s mouth twitched. “Emily has a gift.” He lifted his fork.
Robyn glanced at the display table just outside the café. “I see you put your dragon book back on top. Classic Tyler move.”
He followed her gaze. That morning he’d arranged spooky classics, witchy romances, small-town fall reads—and then, just to mess with her, slipped a hefty fantasy tome on top like a sleeping dragon guarding the pile.
“Dragons are essential,” he said solemnly. “And they deserve to guard the best literature.”
“So that’s why this dragon is hiding our classics?”
“Maybe it shares your weird obsession with Wuthering Heights.”
“Just because you hate romances…”
“Wuthering Heights isn’t a romance! It’s…” Tyler shook his head, words failing him. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll have you know Wuthering Heights is a masterpiece! Millions of people adore it.”
“They’re also delusional. Heathcliff and Cathy are two of the most selfish, toxic, morally corrupt characters English literature has ever known.”
Robyn rolled her eyes. “What, and dragons are saints?”
Robyn leaned forward to take another bite, and cinnamon crumble from the crust caught at the corner of her mouth. It was barely there, just a few sprinkles against her bottom lip.
Tyler tried to ignore it. But once he saw it, he couldn’t not see it.
Before he could think better of it, he lifted his hand.
“Hang on,” he murmured. “You missed—”
His thumb brushed the crumb away, skimming across her lip and the soft warmth of her skin.
Robyn’s breath stilled. Tyler’s entire body went taut.
He should’ve dropped his hand. Should’ve apologized. But instead, her gaze flicked to his mouth, and suddenly the air felt like it would right before lightning, electrons dancing in the air, waiting to collide.
Tyler’s palm slid into the curve of her cheek, cradling it like it belonged there. Like he’d done it a hundred times.
Robyn leaned in a fraction, her eyes lifting to his.
Tyler’s pulse kicked hard. He could kiss her. He could, and he wanted to so badly it made his heart squeeze and his pulse thunder.
His mind flashed with pictures so vivid they felt real even if they only existed in his imagination.
Robyn in his kitchen drinking coffee, Robyn laughing at Emma’s llama facts, Robyn sitting at the end of his couch with a book and her socked feet tucked under her—she fit in his life whether she realized it or not.
The alarm on his phone chose that exact second to beep.
Tyler’s hand dropped, and Robyn blinked as if she’d been pulled back into her own body.
“I—” Tyler cleared his throat, dragging his phone out of his pocket. The screen flashed: pick up emma.
Of course. Of course it was time.
“Sorry,” he said, voice rougher than he intended.
Robyn’s cheeks were pink.
“Right,” she whispered. “Emma.”
Tyler stood, suddenly aware of how tight his chest felt, how hot his skin was.
He set the empty plate aside, then hesitated.
“I’ll… see you at the book club,” he said, aiming for easy and landing somewhere near hopeful. “Assuming Mrs. C. has already picked a date.”
A small laugh slipped out of Robyn, and Tyler smiled because it was easier than admitting he felt shaken right down to his core.
“Try not to open the clue without me,” he added.
“I won’t,” she said softly.
Tyler held her gaze, then forced his feet to move.
He had to pick up Emma.
He had to be a dad.
He stepped out into the crisp autumn air and told himself the same thing he’d been telling himself all day. Get it together.
But the intention didn’t even make it to the sidewalk.
Because Robyn hadn’t simply walked into his life. She’d walked into the spaces he’d stopped believing anyone could fill. What the hell was he going to do when she left?