Page 21 of The Cinnamon Spice Inn (Maple Falls #1)

FIFTEEN

MADISON

Madison didn’t know exactly when it happened, but sometime between the first break and her next shot, she started to have fun and relax like she hadn’t in a long time.

The tavern itself hadn’t changed in years.

The din of laughter and the clicking of glasses filled the air.

In the corner, a TV shot off the keno numbers, and locals gathered around, trying to see if their numbers had been picked.

Mr. Alders sat on his favorite barstool, waiting for the next person to saddle up and chat the night away.

Maybe it was the familiar weight of the pool cue in her hand or the thrill of the game.

Or maybe it was the way Zach crossed his arms every time she sank another shot, his jaw set tight, his expression dark.

She knew he was getting hard; she knew that look.

It must be killing him. And it felt so good to wind him up, right here in this place where he’d broken her.

The feel of the pool cue sliding through her fingers and the slow burn of Zach’s gaze following her every move shifted something inside of her.

Soon, it wasn’t just about getting one up on him because even though she still burned with anger, her little game of revenge was turning her on too.

She couldn’t help it; she liked this flirtatious game they were playing.

The heated looks, the spiky banter. It was fun, addictive, and dangerous.

Madison leaned across the table with a practiced ease, one she didn’t know she still had. Her sweater hitched up, exposing a sliver of bare skin above her jeans. She stretched out her arm, deliberate and slow, feeling the air tighten between them.

She drew out the moment. “You good there, Zach? You’re looking a little… tense.”

“Just shoot already,” Zach shot back, pretending not to care. But oh, how he cared. Madison could read the desire in his eyes.

Then, with a quick pump of the cue, she sank the ball.

Gram whooped.

“Now that’s a sexy shot,” Kit said, raising her drink in approval.

Madison grinned and clinked her drink with Kit’s, enjoying it all.

The bar had grown quieter, more eyes turning toward their game. She didn’t care. She had forgotten how good she was at this. That’s what happened when you spent a childhood playing pool at the Kettle.

The moment transported her back in time—to the many nights spent in this exact spot, a quarter burning in her palm as she and Zach battled it out at this very table.

The Kettle had always been the local gathering spot—pool tables in the back, exposed brick walls, and the scent of wood-fired pizza wafting through the air.

The adults would sit at their usual booths, nursing beers and laughing loudly.

Meanwhile, the kids—Madison, Zach, Emily, Liam, Jackson—had lived at the pool tables, fueled by soda and quarters their parents handed out as long as they stayed out of trouble.

Liam leaned in. “Come on now, Maddie, aren’t you at least gonna give us a shot?”

She tapped her cue against the floor, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. I suppose I can do best two out of three. It is your birthday, after all.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Liam said dryly.

Madison was already lining up the final shot when she felt him move behind her.

Zach.

She had just drawn her cue back when he bent down low, his breath grazing the side of her neck.

“Don’t overshoot it,” he murmured, voice low, just for her.

The heat of him at her back, the warmth of his breath against her skin, the scent of cedar and whiskey lingering from his flannel.

Her grip faltered.

The cue slipped at the last second, and she struck too hard and too high.

She watched in horror as the cue ball smacked into the eight ball, sending it rolling toward the corner pocket.

“No, no, no—” she whispered.

The eight ball dropped with a loud clack.

Madison whipped around, practically nose-to-nose with Zach.

“You did that on purpose!”

Zach smirked. “Damn straight.”

Madison glared.

“You said best two out of three?” Zach reached for the triangle to re-rack the balls.

Kit elbowed Madison. “You want me to deck him?”

“Not worth it,” Madison said, narrowing her eyes at Zach. “He wants to play with fire?” She grabbed her cue. “He’ll get fire.”

“Alright, alright,” Liam cut in. “Seeing as we’re making this interesting, let’s have a wager, shall we? If the ladies win, Zach has to… go out with Madison?” He looked around the room, eyebrows raised.

“I’ll throw ten on that!” Mrs. Bishop shouted from across the bar.

Zach nearly choked on his beer. It was clear from his expression that he couldn’t imagine anything worse.

Nice. Madison tried to play off his reaction by taking a drink, but it stung.

The feeling was sharp and deep, and hurt more than she would have expected.

She didn’t want to date Zach. That was the last thing she wanted.

But seeing him look so horrified, like the idea of being with her was the worst thing imaginable, hit a nerve she didn’t realize was still raw.

Maybe it was because, deep down, she wanted him to want her. To at least see her. To acknowledge that whatever had been between them hadn’t just disappeared.

“And if the boys win?” Kit pressed.

Liam nudged Zach. “Yeah, Zach. What do you want?” Liam was clearly enjoying this.

Zach locked eyes with Madison.

That wasn’t just anger, was it? There was something else there. It was hot and deep, primal. Madison’s breath hitched, and her pulse fluttered. He felt it too; she was sure of it.

Then he looked away, letting the moment die between them. “Losers buy drinks,” he said with a shrug, his voice flat, like it meant nothing.

Madison shook her head and looked away. He wanted to ignore whatever this was?

Fine.

Two could play that game.

Maybe it was the Old Fashioned flowing through her veins, or maybe it was the slow burn of Zach’s gaze following her every move, but suddenly, Madison didn’t feel cautious or careful anymore.

She felt dangerous. Vengeful. She wanted him to feel the way she felt when she walked into this bar all those years ago and saw him with that other woman—ignored, replaced, insignificant.

Madison picked up the chalk, rolling it between her fingers before dragging it across the tip of her cue with slow, deliberate strokes. Her gaze locked onto Zach the entire time, daring him to look away. “You’re going down.”

Zach raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

Madison tilted her head, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before he could respond, she reached for the hem of her sweater and slowly pulled it over her head, revealing a ribbed tank top that hugged her in all the right places, leaving very little to the imagination.

Gram cheered from across the bar. “That’s right, honey. You show him who’s boss!”

Zach visibly swallowed. His fingers flexed around the cue stick so tight she thought it might snap.

Madison smirked. “Just a little warm in here, don’t you think?” she mused, tossing her tangle of curls over her shoulder.

Zach grunted, lining up his shot, determined not to reply. But Madison saw the way his broad shoulders tensed, the way his focus wavered before he exhaled sharply and took his turn.

“Please don’t,” Emily said with a laugh, seeing the way her brother reacted.

“Sorry,” Madison mouthed to Emily, but didn’t back down. It was way too much fun tormenting Zach.

Madison quickly regained control of the game, sinking shot after shot. They hit the pockets with a satisfying thud.

They were quick to the last shot of the game.

She felt Zach step closer, just like before, close enough that she could feel the heat of him against her back, drink in the scent of whiskey that clung to him.

“Is that the only trick you know?” she said over her shoulder, tossing the words casually—until she turned her head fully and realized how close he really was.

Zach’s lips parted as if he had been about to say something, something most likely dry or sarcastic. The air simmered between them. It was dizzying, being this close to him.

For a split second, Madison thought he might close the gap. Capture her lips in a searing kiss in front of everyone. It would be madness. But she felt it. Their desires mingling together, the air a dance of pheromones.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. It throbbed through her fingertips, her throat, the very tips of her toes. The world shrank to just Zach.

To the roughness of his stubble, the tensed muscles in his jaw, the way his gaze dipped for the barest second to her lips.

Then Zach took a slow step back as if he was physically forcing himself to pull away.

Madison smiled, masking how shaken she was, how she had to tamp down her frustration into a ball deep in her stomach.

She turned back around, rolling her shoulders, forcing herself to refocus.

This time, when she took the shot, she didn’t miss.

Kit cheered, throwing her hands in the air while Liam groaned, and Zach shook his head despite himself.

“Now that’s how you do it!” Kit exclaimed as if she’d dominated the game herself.

Madison smiled, but the feeling of victory was weak compared to the thrum of emotions Zach stirred in her.

As the night wound down, the crowd at the Kettle thinned, leaving just a handful of locals lingering about. Waitresses wiped down tables and flipped up chairs. The lights would be coming back on soon.

Madison looked at her glass, planning on tossing the whiskey back and heading home, when Zach slid onto the stool beside her.

Her heart gave a little traitorous skip.

“You here to ask me out on that date?” Madison asked matter-of-factly. The alcohol buzzed in her brain, making her feel braver, bolder.

Zach braced the bar top. Knuckles white. She’d caught him off guard. Good.

“You didn’t have to react that way, you know.” Her voice was soft. “You could’ve played along; it was just a joke.”

Zach gave her a level stare. “Nothing with us is ever a joke.”

Whatever insult she was about to sling back died on her lips.