Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
ROBYN
Robyn woke to Mr. Darcy sitting on her chest, staring at her with the quiet intensity of a cat who had been patient long enough.
She blinked at the low ceiling beams of the flat above the bookstore, the fairy lights still twinkling faintly in the gray morning light, and for three blissful seconds she had no idea what day it was.
Then it all came back.
She groaned, gently relocated Mr. Darcy, and reached for her phone on the nightstand.
7:14 a.m. A WhatsApp notification from the book club group.
Two messages from Elsie, both with exclamation marks.
And a text from her mother, sent at eleven last night—a link to a colleague’s research article with a single line beneath it: Where’s your latest?
Robyn set the phone face-down and stared at the ceiling.
She’d left her mother on read. She couldn’t deal with that right now.
Not when Halloween was ten days away and the rest of Isabel’s manuscript was still missing.
The fate of the Maple Falls bookstore rested on making the Midnight in Maple Falls event a success.
It was their opportunity to find a buyer who’d keep it as a bookstore before Estevez’s offer became the only option left.
Elsie had said not to worry. That she’d handle the event details.
Which was sweet. And completely useless.
Robyn was a planner. She liked lists and timelines and the comforting click of a plan coming together the way it was supposed to. Maple Falls, apparently, had a personal vendetta against her Type A brain. The locals seemed ingrained with a go-with-the-flow attitude.
Four hours later, Robyn was behind the counter with a half-eaten slice of pie, her to-do list already in ruins, and her nerves no calmer than when Mr. Darcy had woken her.
She glanced over at Tyler. He was working in the front window, sleeves pushed up and his mouth set in concentration.
He’d found a set of paint markers meant for glass—the washable, chalk-style ones store owners used for seasonal décor—and he was using them with the ease of a natural-born artist. The window had transformed into a blustery autumn scene with swirling leaves blown sideways on an imaginary wind, a cozy stack of books at the bottom, and a tiny candle drawn near the spine of one title, its flame a soft golden flick.
It was… beautiful.
It also made her a little emotional in a way she wasn’t prepared for.
Tyler capped the marker and then leaned back to assess his work. “Don’t worry,” he said without turning, somehow knowing she was staring. “I’ve kept the dragons to a minimum this time.”
Robyn tried to laugh.
“Hey.” Tyler finally looked at her, and his expression shifted in an instant from easy teasing to attentive. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Robyn lied automatically, flipping open the nearest book on the counter.
Tyler came around the counter and stopped beside her.
The store was empty—a rare lull—and she felt overly aware of the soft hum of the lights and the faint scent of pumpkin pie.
She stared at the page, but the words kept swimming. His hand hovered near her elbow—not quite touching.
Her shoulders were still up around her ears, her breathing shallow.
“Robyn.”
She swallowed. “I know. I’m being foolish.”
“You’re not.” His tone was steady. “There’s a lot going on.”
Robyn barely nodded.
He rested his fingertips lightly on her arm. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll find the next clue soon enough,” he said in that low, unhurried way of his. “Your great-grandmother wouldn’t make it impossible. She wanted someone to piece together her story.”
Robyn’s eyes stung. She blinked hard and kept her gaze on the book.
“You’re right, I know that. I just… This bookshop means a lot to me.
And Elsie’s right, perhaps this Midnight in Maple Falls event is our opportunity to save the store, if we can get it into the hands of the right person.
It’s a big deal. And I hate not having everything lined up, feeling so unprepared and last-minute. It frazzles me.”
Tyler’s thumb brushed over her wrist. She looked up then, and something in his face relaxed. He leaned in, the movement tender. Robyn’s body answered, meeting him halfway in a kiss, needing the contact more than she’d realized.
Tyler deepened their connection. His hand slid to her waist, steadying her.
When she pulled back minutes later, her cheeks were warm, and her heart was thrumming pleasantly.
She blinked at him. “Okay,” she said, finding her voice again. “We should probably stop before I do something unhinged, like drag you to the back room.”
Tyler’s brows lifted. The look he gave her—part amusement, part heat—made her stomach flip.
Robyn swallowed. “Maybe after hours,” she managed, trying for breezy and landing somewhere between flirtation and a promise.
Tyler’s gaze held hers, and she knew that he was thinking the same thing she was.
He wanted to explore her, learn her, undo her just like she wanted to do to him.
The back room wasn’t much—just a small sofa that had survived a decade of staff lunches and late-night inventory. But in her mind, it turned into something else entirely.
As they stood behind the counter, her imagination carried her to the back room, like a spell whisking her away. The door swung shut behind them, the click of the latch loud in the quiet store. Her hand fisted in the front of his sweater as she walked him backward. Tyler’s eyes never left hers.
She pushed him back until the backs of his legs brushed the cushion. “Sit,” she told him, and the word came out steadier than she felt. It was as if she’d commanded him a thousand times.
Her pulse thudded in her throat as she sank to her knees between his thighs. The carpet was rough under her knees, the air warmer back here, smelling faintly of paper and cinnamon and his cologne.
She looked at the way his jaw tightened, the way his hand flexed like he didn’t know what to do with it, whether to touch her or hold back.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” she said, because she needed to hear it—needed to know they were choosing this, together.
Tyler’s voice went low, ruined already. “Don’t stop.”
She leaned in and made him feel it.
She started slow, teasing him through his khakis, rubbing back and forth, patient enough to make him breathe harder, to make his hands flex.
Then she undid his belt, eased down the zipper, freed him.
She lowered her mouth, teasing, just enough to make him jolt, before taking him deeper, her hand fisting him, matching the steady rhythm of her mouth.
She felt his control fray one careful inch at a time.
She took her time, because she could. Because the fantasy belonged to her, and for once she wasn’t overthinking, wasn’t planning, wasn’t trying to be good.
And when he finally came apart, she barely had time to savor it before he turned the tables, lifting her, setting her back, her bare legs draped over his shoulders as he sank between them.
His hands slid up her thighs, thumbs pressing in. Then his mouth was there. The feeling was warm and sure as he slowly dragged pleasure out of her.
She braced a hand against the wall, teeth sinking into her bottom lip to keep herself quiet, but the sounds still built in her throat.
He kept her right there, hovering, teasing her closer until her whole body shook with it, and then he eased back just enough to make her gasp, to make her chase it.
“Robyn?”
She blinked.
Tyler was looking at her from across the counter, head tilted, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You okay? You went somewhere.”
Her face burned. “Fine,” she said. “Totally fine. Just… thinking about inventory.”
Tyler’s grin widened, like he didn’t believe a single word. “Sure you were.”
“Yoo-hoo! I hope I’m not interrupting anything…” Edith called, her tone lifting on the last word. “But this just couldn’t wait.”
The mayor’s wife, and Madison’s grandmother, swept in with a tote bag on her arm and an expression that said she had the juiciest bit of gossip Maple Falls had seen this fall.
Her silver hair was pinned up in its usual twist, though a few wisps had already made a break for it, and her green eyes, those striking eyes with their gold flecks that Madison had inherited, were sparkling with mischief.
Robyn pasted on her professional smile and ignored the fact that her pulse was still sprinting. “Hi, Edith.”
Tyler cleared his throat, recovering faster than Robyn. “Hey. What’s up?”
Edith stepped forward with excitement. “I found something. I was going to share it in the group chat but thought I’d surprise you first instead.”
Robyn’s stomach dropped—then leapt. “You did?”
Edith marched right up to the counter, then pulled out a photocopied page and slapped it down dramatically.
“City Hall records,” she announced. “You’re welcome.”
Robyn leaned in, scanning quickly.
Page sixty-two.
It was a black-and-white photo taken during the planting of a maple tree in front of the Cinnamon Spice Inn. A time capsule was being buried at the base of the tree during the dedication ceremony.
Robyn’s gaze snapped to Tyler’s.
“That has to be it,” she whispered. “Right?”
Tyler read over her shoulder, his focus sharpening. “It must be.”
Edith tapped the caption again, triumphant. “Read the rest.”
Robyn’s eyes skimmed the last line, and her skin prickled.
The time capsule was buried in 1955 and, according to Isabel Valente, it was meant to be opened “when the time is right.”
She looked up at Tyler, excitement and nerves tangling together in her chest.
Tyler waited until Edith’s attention was called elsewhere, then leaned against the counter beside Robyn, close enough that his arm pressed warm against hers. “So,” he said, his voice dropping low. “I guess our plans for the back room will have to wait a little longer.”
“Another raincheck?” Robyn asked, hoping the heat she felt all over wasn’t climbing up her cheeks.
Tyler nodded. His eyes darkened, just for a second, and Robyn felt it everywhere.
“Alright, but just so you know, I’m going to be collecting soon.” She turned back to the page before she lost what was left of her composure.
They had a time capsule to find. A bookstore to save. And a secret Isabel had left behind decades ago.
Still, with Tyler next to her, Robyn had a feeling that the hardest part of the afternoon wouldn’t be finding the next clue.
It would be waiting until they were behind a locked door.