Page 28 of The Cinnamon Spice Inn (Maple Falls #1)

TWENTY-ONE

MADISON

A few hours later, Kit pulled up in front of the inn. She waved from the driver’s side. Madison noticed how perfect and seasonal her bright orange beret looked against her dark hair.

Madison was dressed in the same clothes she’d worn to lunch.

Time had gotten away from her. She had meant to spend a few moments hunting for the carnival games in the basement, but ended up spending hours cleaning up the front porch instead.

She used her mom’s wicker broom, the same one that had been in the front closet since she was a kid, to brush off all the dried leaves.

Then she used one of her dad’s rags from the shed to dust off the rocking chairs.

What they really needed was a fresh coat of paint.

Maybe she’d find time to tackle that, too.

It wasn’t perfect yet, but it was a start.

As Kit and Madison pulled into Liam’s family farm, Madison had to admit that she was nervous. It had been years since she’d been out here. She had heard that Liam had taken it over from his father, but she had yet to see it.

When they were in high school, Liam used to have the wildest parties with the biggest bonfires.

Everyone wanted to come to Liam’s house on Friday nights, which always ended up with a game of hide-and-go-seek in the corn stalks at midnight—and Liam and Zach scaring everyone to death when they jumped out at them.

Madison smiled at the memory, but what had once been a quaint little farm now looked to be the destination for fall family fun.

A wrought-iron archway swooped over the drive with the words “Winding Creek Farm” etched out in big, blocky script.

The entire archway had been decorated with artificial sunflowers and brightly colored leaves.

A parking area was off to the side, with workers directing traffic down the lane.

The pumpkin patch and market would be open every weekend from now through November, and it was packed.

“Wow, this is a production,” Madison said, taking it all in.

“It wasn’t like this when you lived here?”

“Not at all. We always got our pumpkins from Liam’s dad, but he didn’t sell them to the public, not like this.”

In the distance, Madison could see a tractor pulling guests around for hayrides. Bouncy houses and a petting zoo were also set up, and the barn looked like it had been turned into a retail shop with various décor for sale. A food truck serving spiced cider and donuts set off the space.

Visitors could pick a pumpkin from the stands out front or take a wagon out to the fields to choose their own.

A photo station had been set up with a charming wooden bench framed by potted mums and pumpkins, and families were lining up to take pictures.

Nearby, oversized wooden cutouts of smiling scarecrows, pumpkins, and ears of corn invited visitors to poke their heads through for a fun photo op.

“Help me carry these in?” Kit asked, popping the back end of her SUV. She had it stacked with goodies.

“Do you want me to grab one of the carts?” Madison asked. Metal carts with oversized wheels were all lined up in front of the barn.

“Yeah, that would be perfect.”

Madison quickly fetched a cart and returned to load up the boxes. Together, they made their way toward the barn.

Even though it wasn’t yet three o’clock in the afternoon, a bonfire was already crackling out back, sending up wisps of fragrant smoke. Families sat around it, wrapped in flannel blankets, sipping on steaming cups of cider while kids ran around, their laughter filling the air.

And if Madison wasn’t mistaken, the same musician from the Kettle last night was strumming a guitar in the background.

“Hey, you made it. And look who you brought with you,” Liam greeted them inside the barn.

“This is amazing,” Madison said, taking the barn in.

The place smelled so cozy, like a candle factory in the fall—nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves blended together, wrapping around Madison like a warm blanket.

Shelves overflowed with hand-stitched towels, handmade soaps, artisan candles, decorative wreaths, baked goods, and plenty of sweatshirts with the farm’s logo.

Kids were eating sticky caramel apples and handfuls of kettle corn while their parents browsed the selection of gourmet jams, local honey, and handcrafted gifts.

“Here, let me take that from you.” Liam took the handle of the cart and maneuvered it behind the counter.

“I’m going to have to keep a few of those, though,” Kit said, turning back to Liam. “I promised Madison she could sample them before we finalize what we serve at the inn.”

“Works for me. I’ll set you up with a plate.”

But before Liam could even grab a dish, a shout rang out across the farm. “Hey! The tractor’s stuck! We need some help over here!” a farmhand hollered.

“Again?” Liam shook his head. “Always something.”

Madison followed him out. She wasn’t wearing muck-around boots like Liam, but she’d help if she could. It was just her way.

But when she got to where the tractor was stuck, she stopped short.

There was Zach. He stood behind the trailer, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing strong, tanned forearms corded with muscle. His jaw was clenched in concentration, his brows furrowed as he braced his stance, boots digging into the dirt as the farmhand revved the engine.

The mid-afternoon sun hit just right, highlighting his blonde hair, the sharp angles of his face and the sheen of sweat at his temple as he exhaled hard and pushed with everything he had.

God, he was something. Brutal, stubborn, beautiful.

Madison found herself staring, heat pooling low in her belly before she could even try to stop it.

For a brief moment, nothing happened. The wheels spun, stuck in the soft earth, but Zach didn’t let up. He adjusted his grip, bending slightly, his broad shoulders flexing beneath his shirt.

Madison felt her breath hitch, her entire body hot and under pressure, like a volcano waiting to blow. Memories of his strength, the way he’d once held her up against the side of his truck, making love to her under a starlit sky, came rushing back with dizzying force.

Then, with one final powerful shove, the tractor lurched forward, breaking free of the rut.

The crowd erupted into cheers, clapping and whistling. Even Liam gave an impressed nod.

Zach, meanwhile, just rolled his shoulders, brushing it off as if he rescued hayrides on a regular basis.

Madison, however, could barely breathe. She swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Because, hell.

Zach Whitaker had always been strong, but there was something about seeing him like this. He looked solid, capable, completely in control, and it sent a shiver racing down her spine.

There was a primal, magnetic pull to him now.

Not just the way his muscles flexed, but the way he threw himself into the work without hesitation.

The stubbornness. The grit. The heat. He was grounded in a way that made something inside her twist and ache.

The feeling was deep and secret and hungry.

All Madison could think about was how it had felt to have that body pressed flush against hers the night before. The alley. His hands. His mouth.

She was feeling way, way more than she should. The need, sharp and electric, hummed under her skin. The memories, bittersweet and aching, pressed against the edges of her heart.

Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how many walls she’d tried to build, one look at Zach, and she was right back to where it had all started.

Now the question was, what was she going to do about it?