Page 6 of The Cinnamon Spice Inn (Maple Falls #1)

FIVE

MADISON

Madison woke up hours later to the sound of banging below her.

She squinted and rubbed her temple with two fingers, feeling very much like she was hungover, but not from drinking too many martinis at the Village Vanguard.

No, this was an emotional hangover fueled by exhaustion, stress, and a vividly inappropriate, unfinished dream.

No amount of caffeine could fix this.

Madison groaned, flopping back against her pillows for a second.

She had absolutely, positively not needed that dream.

It wasn’t enough that he’d barged into her life again looking unfairly good.

Her subconscious had decided to serve up a full-body, heart-racing, orgasm-teasing fantasy just to torment her.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

She sat up.

Zach.

Hadn’t she explicitly told him she didn’t need his help? Hadn’t she made it perfectly clear that she would handle this on her own?

Madison willed the memories of last night, the dream, to go away. But no matter how hard she tried, they flooded in. Uninvited. Unabated.

Zach, waiting for her in the cabin, their cabin, with his taut abs and broad shoulders, standing there drinking her in. The way his touch burned. His kisses left her breathless. His fingers. His mouth. The way he worked her body, so close to the edge…

She squeezed her eyes even tighter, trying to stop the flood of delicious images.

She clearly hadn’t had the same effect on him.

His loss , she told herself, ignoring the twinge of pain in her chest at his fiery reception.

It wasn’t like she’d expected him to wrap her in a hug and spin her around like she’d returned from war.

And she’d hardly been thrilled to see him.

But still, there was something about the heat in his expression.

The bite of his words. Like he hated her guts, like she was the last person on Earth he’d ever want to see.

And now he was downstairs banging around like he owned the place.

Her place.

Although… it didn’t feel like hers.

When she’d arrived last night, the wide-covered front porch, with its stately pillars and wooden rocking chairs, had been entirely empty. One of the rocking chairs was even missing. It was practically a crime.

Madison’s mom had always decorated the porch.

This time of year she would’ve had swooping boughs of autumn garlands and bundles of cornstalks tied to the pillars.

There would’ve been pumpkins. So many pumpkins.

And chrysanthemums—white, yellow, orange, purple, any and every color.

And bales of hay. There’d always be hay.

Guests would trample it in on their feet, their luggage. Gram would complain about always having to pick up hay halfway down the hallway, but Mom loved it.

Her wreaths too. She had such a collection. There’d always been one displayed front and center on the main door. Meredith would switch it out every season. Right now it should’ve been the brown wicker wreath with orange ribbon and golden sunflowers.

It wasn’t just the decorations outside.

Inside, the wooden floors had always gleamed, and the scent of apple cider and cinnamon lingered.

Madison supposed it still did a little, but it wasn’t the same.

Her mom had had a way of making sure every guest felt at home.

She’d set out a tray of her freshly baked apple scones by the coffee station, swap out the throws in the sitting room, and decorate the mantel with candles and knickknacks.

It had always been warm, inviting, effortlessly beautiful.

And now, the reality hit her like a cold gust of wind off the lake. The inn wasn’t the same. The warmth was missing.

Madison took a steadying breath.

All wasn’t lost. Gram had promised to make her legendary shortbread. It was the same recipe she’d taught her daughter, and which Madison’s mom had taught her. And maybe Maurice, the inn’s chef, would make his famous pecan French toast.

Not to mention the views. They were still there—thank God.

The inn’s two-story great room, which you entered as soon as you walked through the front doors, still took her breath away.

It had a stone fireplace mantel and soaring windows that framed the lake beyond.

This time of year, the lake would shimmer in golden sunlight filtered through the fiery red and gold maple leaves.

Just thinking of seeing that lake again made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t expected, as if some part she’d thought she’d outgrown was still here, waiting for her to come home. She couldn’t wait to get out for a walk around it.

Behind the inn, a cobblestone path wound toward the lakefront, creating a walkway perfect for weekend strolls with takeaway coffees. Madison used to walk it as a girl, pretending she was off on some grand adventure.

Now, she just wanted to bring that magic back.

That was her first priority.

THUMP. THUMP.

Or make that her second priority. She had an annoyingly attractive contractor to deal with first.

But just as she swung her legs off the bed, her phone buzzed. She smiled at the hearts flashing across the screen.

“Tell me you’ve come to kidnap me,” Madison said to her best friend.

“Well, good morning to you, too. I see all is well at home sweet home,” Jo said with a throaty laugh.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Jo waited on the other end of the line for Madison to elaborate.

“A massive storm rolled through here last night, and a maple tree crashed through the roof.”

“Oof. I know how much you love storms.”

“Yeah. That and… everything else. It’s a lot.”

Hammering continued in the background.

“At least someone’s fixing it?”

Madison hesitated. “Uh. Yeah.”

Jo caught the hesitation instantly. “Wait. That’s not a good thing?”

Madison sighed. “Do you remember Zach?”

Jo gasped so dramatically that Madison swore she could hear her clutching imaginary pearls. “Sexy carpenter Zach? The guy who could melt your panties with a single look?”

“How do you remember that?”

“I remember all the good bits. Now tell me everything.”

Madison rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “He’s the one fixing the roof.”

Jo squealed loud enough to make Madison yank the phone away. “Things just got interesting.”

“Doubt it. He looked more annoyed than anything.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jo drawled. “And yet you’re lying in bed thinking about him. Interesting.”

“You are deeply unhelpful.”

“Oh, I am your most helpful friend. I’m just waiting for the inevitable. The sizzling chemistry. The heated arguments. The eventual panties removal.”

Madison whipped off the covers. “Okay, I’m officially done with this conversation.”

Jo snickered. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m letting this go.”

Madison laughed. “I know you won’t, but I’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

Jo sobered instantly. “Like the letter?”

For the first time since she’d woken up, her thoughts drifted back to the moment she’d walked through the front door, Gram’s gasp of surprise, the way her dad had teared up as he’d pulled her into a hug. The way she’d had to swallow the lump in her throat.

She hadn’t meant to arrive so suddenly. Hadn’t even given them a heads-up.

She hadn’t wanted her dad to tell her he was fine, that he didn’t need her help, when she knew he did.

It had been three years since she’d been home, six months since she’d seen them in New York, but the minute she’d read that letter, she’d just… come home.

“Madison?” Jo prompted, pulling her back. “What’s going on?”

Madison exhaled, rubbing her forehead. “I haven’t told my dad the real reason I came back.”

“Why not?”

“Because it would hurt his pride,” Madison admitted. “I told him I needed a break from the city. But the truth is, he’s been struggling so much, trying to handle everything on his own. Gram can only do so much…”

Gram had lived at the inn ever since Gramp passed away when Madison was a little girl.

Gram didn’t have an official title; she always just helped with things.

Half of the time, you didn’t even need to ask.

But still, the woman couldn’t do everything Madison’s mom used to, and it wasn’t fair to expect her to.

Jo’s voice softened. “That’s a lot.”

“Yeah. And last night, we stayed up for hours, drinking hot chocolate by the fire, just talking. I can’t even remember the last time any of us relaxed like that.”

“Yeah, no clue,” Jo agreed. Life was hectic like that.

“He’s happy I’m here. I can tell. Just like I think he’s secretly relieved, even though he keeps telling me they’re getting by just fine. But I know better.”

“So, you’re making it seem like you came back for you , not for him,” Jo said.

“Exactly.”

“And have you figured out who sent the letter?”

“No. I haven’t had time to think about it.”

Jo gasped. “Excuse me? Madison Kelly, lover of all things mystery, hasn’t investigated something thoroughly?”

“Hey now, I’ve been a little busy with tree damage and unexpected run-ins with ex-boyfriends.”

“Mm-hmm. Priorities, darling. Priorities.”

Oh, Madison knew all about priorities.

Priority number one was downstairs right now, wielding a hammer with a tool belt slung across his waist, and she was about to confront him.