Page 24 of The Cinnamon Spice Inn (Maple Falls #1)

SEVENTEEN

MADISON

After a sleepless night, Madison hit the trail behind the inn just as the first hints of dawn broke across the lake.

She tilted her chin up to the pink- and gold-streaked sky, hoping it would warm her face.

The air was sharp with the bite of coming rain and cold wind.

Nothing serious. No storms, thank God, but it was chilly.

She pulled her sweatshirt sleeves over her hands and picked up her pace, her sneakers crunching over the winding, leaf-strewn path.

Running always helped clear her mind. At least, it used to.

She didn’t run as much as she’d like in New York because she preferred running outside rather than on a treadmill.

In the city you couldn’t just step outside and start running.

Well, you could, but she didn’t like it.

There were people everywhere, so you had to take a ride to the park and even there, you couldn’t mentally check out. Not like here.

And this morning, Madison definitely needed the run. Last night kept replaying on an endless loop—the heat of Zach’s body, the rough drag of his hands around her waist, the fierce, desperate kiss they’d shared like neither of them had any choice.

She still felt it, in her chest. In her blood.

And God, she wanted more.

Madison pushed herself harder, arms pumping, heart hammering in time with her feet.

She had no business wanting more. What was she playing at?

She was leaving soon. She had a life back in New York—a career she loved, a future she’d fought for.

She’d interviewed for Plated for God’s sake.

The top culinary magazine in the country had wanted her for an editorial job, and the position might still be hers.

Zach had never left Maple Falls and he never would.

Besides, what was last night really? A kiss stolen in the dark? Two people caught up in the past? It didn’t mean anything.

She ran faster, as if she was trying to chase the memory out of her body. But it was branded onto her, that kiss that had knocked the air out of her lungs, the bones from her legs. The best she had ever had, intoxicating, electric.

Until Zach had said it was a “bad idea” and stepped away from her like she was poison.

He certainly didn’t want more. He clearly didn’t want her. In fact, Madison couldn’t help but think that if Zach had his way, Madison would just disappear. Because she was a bad idea.

That kiss, and its abrupt ending, haunted her more than she’d like to admit. All night, in fact. Which was why Madison had tugged an orange knit beanie over her messy curls, zipped up her sweatshirt, and slipped quietly out the back door of the inn.

The last thing she had wanted was to get sidetracked by conversation or, worse, run into Gram before she’d had coffee. Madison was pretty sure Gram had left early with her date last night, and Madison definitely didn’t want to hear about that.

So, Madison ran until her legs screamed and her lungs fought for breath. If you could win a medal for running away from your problems, Madison would come in first.

When she couldn’t run any longer, she slowed near the edge of Bear Lake, bending low, hands on her knees, sucking in air as the sun burned off the fog across the water.

As she stood, catching her breath, she watched the waves lapping along the shore, the falling amber leaves, and the ducks that paddled near the shoreline, dipping their beaks underwater.

Maybe I’ll come back later and bring them something to eat , she mused.

Then the memory settled over her, how when she was a little girl, she and her mom would come down to feed the ducks.

Her mom had kept a bag of cracked corn under the kitchen sink.

Madison would fill her pockets with it, and they’d head down to the lake hand-in-hand to feed the ducks.

She used to name them, making up elaborate stories about their duck families and adventures before they flew south for the winter.

There were a million memories to be found in this town, and each one was precious.

It was funny how she’d forgotten about feeding the ducks with Mom.

How could she have? It was like realizing part of her childhood had slipped through her fingers without her even noticing. Had she really been gone that long?

By the time she finished her lap around the lake, Madison had waved to a handful of early risers—joggers, dog walkers, and a fisherman unloading his boat at the dock.

Memories of her mom had nudged her thoughts back to her purpose here: Save the inn. So, as she’d run, she’d forced herself to focus, banishing the kiss from her mind. And she’d come up with a brilliant plan. Well, brilliant in her mind.

The inn was in dire need of a refresh. Halloween was at the end of the month.

What if they closed down for a couple of weeks and relaunched the inn on the thirty-first? They could have a big Halloween-themed party.

Her mind raced with ideas. Not just pumpkins on the porch, but the works—cider stations, caramel apple bars, pumpkin carving contests on the lawn.

They could raffle off a free night’s stay, maybe a dinner-for-two certificate.

They’d partner with local businesses—Liam’s fledgling farm shop for gourmet jams and cider, the outdoor outfitter for cozy knit mittens, Emily’s bakery for fall-themed pastries.

Visitors could stay at the inn and sample everything Maple Falls had to offer at a discount.

Maybe the tree crashing through the roof had been a good thing, in an odd way. It was an excuse to shut down and start fresh.

She was just rounding the final curve, coming back upon the inn, mentally ticking through the list of businesses they could partner with for the Halloween launch, when she stopped dead in her tracks.

Zach was standing outside the honeymoon cabin wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung jersey shorts. Barefoot. Bare-chested. Despite the bite of chill in the air.

The golden morning light caught on his bare shoulders, highlighting the taut muscles in his arms, the way his chest rose and fell with each deep breath. His hair was damp, like he’d just finished showering, and he looked completely unbothered by the cold.

Madison wished she had even a fraction of the calm he exuded.

She dragged her gaze up—past his carved stomach, past his broad chest—to his face. His jaw was rough with stubble, his mouth slightly parted. His eyes grabbed hold of hers as if they’d never let go again.

Her brain screamed at her to look away, but her body didn’t get the memo. Heat flooded her cheeks, her chest, rushing straight through her core.