Page 31 of The Cinnamon Spice Inn (Maple Falls #1)

TWENTY-FOUR

ZACH

Ever a creature of habit, Zach stood barefoot on the front porch of the honeymoon cabin.

He was holding a mug of black coffee in one hand, the other on his hip, as he stared across the lake.

He’d grown accustomed to starting his mornings this way.

There was no better view, except for when Madison stopped by on her daily run.

This cabin had seen better days with its missing window screens, loose porch rails, and dated fixtures, but it still had charm and he liked it out here.

Liked the quiet, the space to breathe, especially when he was preparing for a busy day ahead.

Three days ago, he’d overheard Madison’s grand plan to revamp the inn in time for Halloween.

She had fire in her eyes when she spoke about it, and whether or not he wanted to admit it, that fire still got to him. What she cared about, he cared about.

He’d already repaired the ceiling in the dining room and fixed up the exterior, and now, he wanted to talk to her about adding pine overlay to tie everything together. Make it feel cozy, warm. Something that felt like her mother’s touch still lingered here. Meredith would have liked that.

Zach missed Meredith. He had never talked to Madison about it. Couldn’t share his condolences because she’d avoided him at the funeral. He’d longed to go to her, to give her a hug, but she’d kept her distance and he’d respected that.

Her mom had been the kindest, warmest soul.

She’d brought out the softer side of Madison, and she’d welcomed Zach into the family.

It couldn’t have been easy, your only daughter getting serious with her first boyfriend.

But Meredith and George hadn’t made life hard for them.

If anything, they’d made it easy—inviting Zach over for the holidays, buying him a present for his birthday, treating Madison and Zach’s relationship with respect.

The inn felt like his second home. And now he could build, fix, patch, shape things back into something worth loving again.

He took a last sip of lukewarm coffee, and soon he was headed toward the inn to look for his tools. He swore he’d left them in the kitchen. Or maybe it was the office. After coming up empty-handed in both spots, he stood in the middle of the lobby.

The space was mostly empty except for Cocoa, who immediately bounded over, barking like Zach was public enemy number one. The tiny pup pranced on the worn floral carpet, begging for attention. Zach bent low and scratched her between her ears.

“You seen my tools, girl?” he muttered.

“Back pantry,” Edith’s voice said as she joined them. “I saw them last night when I was making shortbread.”

Sure. Why not? The pantry makes perfect sense.

Zach managed an “Alright, thanks,” and headed that way.

It wasn’t Edith’s fault he was such poor company.

No, the problem was Madison. He’d been working hard on the inn each day, and yet Zach hadn’t slept a full night since he’d kissed her behind the Kettle. And now he knew she might be staying, but he didn’t know if he could believe it. Not yet.

He’d lain awake hour after hour, staring at the cabin ceiling, one arm slung over his face like it could somehow block out the memories.

The way her body had curved into his. The way she used to brush sleepy kisses over the side of his neck before sliding on top of him, warm and so eager, it made him crazy just remembering.

He swore he could still smell her some nights—coffee and ginger, like autumn leaves clinging to his sheets.

He hadn’t even touched her since that kiss in the alley, but it didn’t matter. Every nerve ending he had was already attuned to her again.

Every time he heard her voice across the lobby, or caught a glimpse of her laugh crinkling the corners of her eyes, something inside him went hot and restless and furious all at once.

Zach strode toward the small pantry in the corner of the kitchen. Why the hell someone had stored his tools here was beyond him. He should’ve just kept them at the cabin.

As soon as he stepped inside, he smelled her.

Apples and ginger. A sweet and spicy scent that made his pulse race and his blood rush.

Zach shook his head and focused on finding his tools.

A light would’ve been good; the pantry was original, built in the home in the late 1940s. It was more like a broom cupboard than anything else.

He had half a second to reach for his phone, to flick on the flashlight, when?—

Someone walked right into him. It was Maddie. He could tell by the little surprised sound she made when the door clicked shut.

His hands instinctively caught her arms, steadying her. “Mads,” Zach said, voice low, rough, already betraying everything he was trying to hold back.

She sucked in a breath, her hands bracing against his chest. “What are you doing in here?”

“Looking for my tools. You?”

“Cast-iron skillet. Kit’s coming over… we’re making cornbread.” Her voice wavered. Just enough for him to hear it.

Just enough to make every cell in his body tighten with need. Zach hadn’t thought it was possible to want the woman any more than he already did. But here they were, mere inches apart, and his body was aching to hold her.

The pantry was tiny, barely big enough for one person let alone two. They stood together in the darkness, her hands on his chest. He could feel her pulse syncing with his.

And he knew with absolute certainty that if she let him in, it would change everything.

In the darkness, trapped there together, it felt like they were suspended in time. The air was different. Thicker. Charged.

Zach feared moving. Feared breaking the moment. But he couldn’t stand there forever. Not when the woman he wanted more than breathing was mere inches away.

Zach took a step closer, reaching for her waist, pulling her against him.

And when she didn’t pull away, when her fingers curled slightly into his shirt, hesitant but inviting, it was all the permission he needed.

His hand found her cheek, tilting her face toward him. He didn’t need to see her. He knew her—the curve of her lips, the slope of her nose.

He could feel the way her breath hitched, the way her body leaned into his without hesitation.

Her hands slid to his hips, gripping, anchoring. He bent forward, achingly slow, and captured her mouth in a kiss.

It was soft at first; his lips grazed hers, once, twice, three times before she pulled him deeper, taking charge and not letting him go.

It was everything he wanted and not enough at the same time.

He shouldn’t want Madison anymore, not after all these years. He shouldn’t even dream of wanting her.

But by God, all he could think about was her. The fire in her eyes, the sharp wit of her tongue.

He didn’t know when raw animal instinct had taken over. But suddenly, his hands were gripping her waist roughly, desperately, sliding beneath the hem of her soft sweater, fingers finding the bare skin at the small of her back. Her voice whispering his name.