Chapter 11
ELEVEN
ROBYN
Robyn was nervous about going to Tyler’s house that night, which didn’t make any sense. They’d agreed they were taking it slow. They were just going to look through books, which was about as innocent as plans got.
And yet she’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring into Meg’s closet, which she’d emptied for Robyn to fill with her clothes.
It wasn’t some big, romantic date with dinner and flowers, but it was the first time Tyler had invited her over.
Which meant that it was something small, and perfect, and just for the two of them.
Normally, by this hour, she’d be in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie with her hair in a messy bun and a face that screamed, Do not perceive me. But that didn’t exactly say, Come over and sit close on a couch with a man you can’t stop thinking about.
On the other hand, showing up in a cute fall dress and boots felt… too much. She didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard.
So, she landed somewhere in the middle with black leggings and an oversized sweater in a rusty orange that made her feel like she truly belonged in a Maple Falls autumn. She added gold hoop earrings and two short layered necklaces, the kind that caught the light when she moved.
Krista texted her as Robyn crossed the parking lot toward her car, promising she’d call soon. A second later, another message came through. It was a picture of Krista’s miniature dachshund, Frankie, wearing a beret, standing beside a baguette that was bigger than him.
Robyn instantly smiled at the photo, feeling incandescently happy for her big sister, and texted back, Love it. Tell Joe I said hi. Miss you guys! Talk soon.
In no time, she was pulling into Tyler’s neighborhood.
Tyler lived in the residential district in a neat little tri-level, tucked between close neighbors with warm porch lights glowing on either side. When Robyn pulled up, she spotted him outside in the dark, watering a side garden.
She smiled, taking in his fitted jeans, sweatshirt, and muddy work boots. She was pretty sure she’d never seen a speck of mud on him before, but seeing him out there, working in his garden, it just worked.
Tyler glanced up when he heard her car door close, his expression shifting into that easy, happy look that made something in her chest loosen. “Hey,” he called softly. “Sorry—just finishing up.”
Robyn walked over, and then stopped short, because the garden was honestly amazing.
Pumpkins the size of bowling balls sat like proud orange boulders between sprawling vines. There were massive squashes tucked into leaves, gourds in every shape and color, and clusters of miniature white pumpkins.
“Okay,” Robyn said, staring. “Your gourds are… really something.”
Tyler’s mouth twitched, and Robyn felt heat go straight to her face. “I—” She cleared her throat. “I like your garden.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, clearly enjoying every second of this.
She told herself she wasn’t going to think about Tyler’s gourds in any other context. But that would be a complete, shameless lie.
Her writing had been… spicier lately. Tyler had no idea he was providing inspiration, but her readers certainly weren’t complaining.
Tyler shut off the hose and set it aside. “I’m about to harvest everything,” he said, nudging one of the pumpkins gently with his boot. “It’s been a passion project.”
She smiled like a person who had never had an inappropriate thought in her life. “It’s impressive. Liam would be jealous.”
“Glad you like them,” Tyler said, and he winked.
Robyn nearly melted into the soil.
“Come on,” Tyler said, nodding toward the house. “Let’s go in through the back.”
She followed him around the garage to the house’s side entrance and laughed, reaching up to pull a butterfly barrette out of his hair.
Tyler turned, and she held out the barrette. “Emma’s, I presume?” She smiled.
“Ah yes, we were playing barber shop. It turns out, butterflies are the accessory of the season,” Tyler replied as he kicked off his muddy boots and then opened the door.
Robyn loved that about him, that he wasn’t embarrassed to rock pink-painted nails or to be caught with barrettes in his hair.
When they walked in, a little fluffy white kitten came trotting into the kitchen, meowing eagerly.
“Oh my gosh.” Robyn crouched automatically. “Hi, there, Mochi.”
The kitten rubbed against her hand.
“Emma told me so much about you,” Robyn said softly, scratching behind the kitten’s ears. “And I can see why she’s obsessed.”
Tyler led Robyn from the entryway landing into the kitchen.
“I wasn’t sure about adopting one of Zoe’s kittens,” he said, “but it turned out to be the right move. Emma dotes on her. And I like that it gives her something that’s hers. She loves taking care of her.”
Robyn’s chest melted the way it always did when she saw Tyler being the world’s best dad. “That’s really sweet.”
The kitten meowed again, then darted away, her welcoming duties complete.
Tyler turned toward the fridge. “Okay. First important question.” He leaned his hip against the counter. “What do you want to drink?”
“Water,” Robyn started automatically, because she was predictable and responsible and—
Tyler raised an eyebrow.
Robyn sighed. “Fine. What are my options?”
His smile widened, clearly pleased by her answer. “I have hot apple cider. I can spike it if you want. I’ve got maple bourbon old fashioneds, honey whiskey sours, a cranberry mule, and”—he opened the fridge—“pumpkin spice cream soda. Don’t judge, Emma likes them.”
Robyn blinked. “You sound like you run a seasonal cocktail menu.”
“It’s a hobby of mine.” Tyler grinned. “I used to be a bartender way back in the day in college.”
Robyn laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Okay… cider. Spiked. But not too strong.”
“You got it.”
A few minutes later, warm mugs in hand, they headed down to the lower living room. The space was cozy and lived-in with soft lamps, a big sectional, and a blanket folded over one arm.
On the coffee table, the library books were already laid out in a neat stack. Tyler gestured toward the couch. “Alright, Book Detective. Ready to solve the ancient mysteries of Maple Falls?”
Robyn sank onto the sectional, tucking her legs beneath her. “Only if you promise not to let Mrs. C. barge in and demand her books back.”
Tyler sat beside her—close, but not touching. Yet. “If she does, I’ll protect you.”
Robyn lifted her mug, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with cider. “I’ll hold you to that.”
An hour later, they’d made it through every book.
It didn’t take long when they were only chasing one specific page number and nothing—absolutely nothing—jumped out at Robyn as remotely clue-ish.
No dramatic underlining. No mysterious margin notes.
No if found, proceed to the next location hidden in cursive.
“I’ve got nothing,” Robyn said, closing the last book with a soft thump and leaning back against the couch.
Tyler was sprawled beside her, one ankle crossed over his knee, a history book open on his lap. He squinted at his page, and then made a face.
“Yeah. Me either.” He tapped the paper with one finger. “Page sixty-two is all about the agricultural history of Maple Falls, and I’m pretty sure they didn’t hide the next clue in a compost pile.”
“I wish we had more history books at the store. I wanted to check the back, make sure I wasn’t missing anything… but I forgot. Ran out of time.”
Tyler glanced up, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You? Forgetting things?”
“It happens.”
“Not to you,” he said.
She reached for her drink. “Well. Guess I’m slipping.”
“Or,” he said, closing his book this time, “something else had your attention.”
Robyn didn’t look at him and took a sip, letting the warm spiciness of the cider slide down her throat. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
They both paused.
Tyler broke first. “You’ve been avoiding looking at me.”
She nearly choked on her sip. “I have not.”
“You have,” he said easily. “Since earlier.”
She let out a small laugh. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?”
Robyn finally glanced over and met his eyes. The challenge was there in the depths of his pupils, pulling her in.
Tyler watched her for a second, then said, “You get this dazed look. Right after I kiss you. Like you’ve forgotten your own name.”
She huffed and set her glass down. “I just forgot to look for some books, Tyler; I didn’t forget who I am.”
“Is that so? Hmm. Guess I’ll have to try a bit harder next time.”
The challenge hung in the air, crackling between them, and if Emma hadn’t mumbled something in her sleep, that moment on the couch might have gone in a very different direction.
Instead, Robyn let the feeling pass, saving it for later, when all bets would be off.
They turned back to their books and silence settled around them, and suddenly Robyn was hyperaware of everything. The soft glow of the lamp. The warmth of the couch. The fact that she’d been there for over an hour, and it still felt like she’d only just arrived.
She looked up, and Tyler’s eyes held hers. “It’s still relatively early,” he said. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
Robyn’s heart gave a small, stupid flip. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I’d like that.”
It didn’t take long to land on a romantic comedy they’d both seen before. Something familiar and low stakes.
Tyler pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and shook it out. “Come here.”
Robyn hesitated for half a second.
Then she shifted closer.
Tyler stretched out along the sectional and guided her with an easy hand at her waist until she was tucked in front of him, a perfect fit. His arm slid beneath her head, his forearm warm against her shoulder, and she settled back until her spine pressed into his chest.
Robyn stared at the TV screen as the opening credits rolled, but she couldn’t focus. Not with Tyler’s hand resting at her waist, not with his breath occasionally stirring the hair near her temple, not with the gentle, steady rise and fall of his chest behind her.
She felt like a teenager again, curled up on a couch with her crush, hyper-aware of every inch of space between them and every inch of contact that wasn’t space at all. When at any moment, one of them might make a move… and at any moment, an adult might come downstairs and ruin everything.
Tyler’s arm was heavy and warm around her, and every time he shifted, his hand brushed her waist like it belonged there.
On screen, the heroine made a dramatic decision that would absolutely backfire in twenty minutes.
Robyn scoffed. “She’s going to regret that.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” Robyn tilted her chin, still facing the TV. “Nobody quits their job for a man they met on a train. That’s how you end up living in a renovated barn with no cell service.”
Tyler chuckled, the sound low in his chest. “A renovated barn could be nice.”
Robyn laughed, then realized his thumb was moving—slow, absentminded—tracing the seam of her leggings at her hip.
Her pulse tripped.
“Tyler,” she said, trying for warning and landing somewhere closer to breathy.
His hand stilled. “Yeah?”
Robyn turned her head just enough to see his face in the lamplight. His eyes were on her, steady and patient.
“Are we actually watching this movie?” she asked.
Tyler’s mouth curved. “We’re making a very sincere attempt.”
Robyn’s lips twitched. “Mm-hmm.”
His gaze flicked to her mouth. “Do you want me to stop touching you?”
The question was so quiet, so careful, that it made something soft and bright bloom in her chest.
Robyn swallowed. “No.”
Tyler’s exhale was slow. “Okay.”
He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.
Robyn’s eyes fluttered shut on instinct.
Then he kissed her again, a fraction lower, just behind her ear, and Robyn’s whole body went warm like someone had turned the heat on inside her.
She turned in his arms, shifting clumsily on the couch until she was facing him. The blanket slid, their knees bumped, and Tyler steadied her with a hand at her waist.
For a second they just looked at each other.
Then Robyn closed the distance.
The kiss started soft, sweet, careful. Then Tyler’s hand slid up her back, and her breath hitched. Suddenly, it was harder to remember why they were supposed to be taking things slow.
She kissed him again, urgent this time; her hands couldn’t pull him close enough.
Tyler answered with a quiet sound that made her stomach flip, and he tipped his head, deepening it, patient and hungry all at once.
The movie kept playing, forgotten.
Robyn pulled back first, forehead brushing his. Her cheeks were hot. Her heart was racing at a very uneven tempo.
Tyler’s eyes searched hers. “You okay?”
Robyn huffed a laugh, still catching her breath. “I’m… very okay.”
“Good.” He kissed her once more, quick and tender, then pulled her back against his chest and held her there. She could feel the effort in it. His breath was still uneven, and his arm tightened around her just a fraction too much. He was holding on and holding back at the same time.
Robyn resettled, her head finding that same spot on his chest. Tyler pulled the blanket up again, and his hand rested back on her waist.
On screen, someone declared love in a crowded airport. Robyn’s eyes were getting heavy, but she wasn’t thinking about the movie anymore. She was thinking about his hand on her waist, and how little it would take for her to guide it somewhere else.