Page 9 of The Cinnamon Spice Inn (Maple Falls #1)
SEVEN
ZACH
Zach pulled into the hardware store. The air was brisk, and the sky was that bright, cloudless blue that only seemed to show up in the heart of fall. Any remaining low-lying fog would disappear within minutes.
The shop was easily within walking distance from the inn, but he needed his truck to haul the drywall.
He cut the engine and stared out the windshield for a moment, trying to clear his head.
A gust of wind sent leaves fluttering down from the maple trees that lined the sidewalk, scattering them across the wooden benches and the brick walkway.
On the sidewalk, Mrs. C. and Mrs. Bishop strolled past, arms linked, with their knit scarves and tweed coats, on their way to the bakery, no doubt, talking about last night’s storm.
There were a few branches down, more leaves scattered in the road.
Nothing a few helpful neighbors wouldn’t have cleaned up by lunch.
The inn had taken the brunt of it in town.
The women waved. It took Zach a second to realize it was directed at him. He replied with a head nod, forcing a smile he didn’t feel.
“Get the drywall, fix the inn, and keep away from her,” Zach told himself with as much conviction as he could muster.
It was self-preservation at its finest. Even after all these years, the sight of Madison did something to him.
He was convinced she’d have that pull on him until the day he died.
She would forever be the love of his life. He didn’t deny that.
But he couldn’t let those feelings take over; he couldn’t fall for her again. Wanting Madison had never been the problem. Surviving her leaving was.
Zach got out of the truck and walked up to the entrance. Old Man Perkins was relaxing out front in one of the wooden rocking chairs placed there for locals to socialize. He had a Styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand and was just polishing off the rest of his glazed donut when Zach approached.
“Morning, Zach,” Perkins greeted, chewing the last of his donut. “That tree falling through the inn’s roof got you already working?”
Zach slowed his stride. “Morning, Perkins. Yeah, gotta grab some drywall.”
“Heard all of Popple Lane lost power.” He took a sip of his coffee.
“Doesn’t surprise me. It was a hell of a storm.”
“Yep. Sure was. Hey, do me a favor.”
“What’s that?” Zach paused, waited to hear what errand he’d be adding to his list.
“Tell Edith she still owes me for that blackberry jam from last summer,” Mr. Perkins said, rocking back in his chair. The motion caused the chair to creak under the weight.
“Will do,” Zach said, pulling open the glass door and stepping inside.
The hardware store in Maple Falls was more than just a place to get a few nuts and bolts; it sold everything from paint and lumber to dishware and winter gear, mixed in with a selection of local goods, including Zach’s apple butter.
The recipe had been his grandmother’s. Zach had found it in the back of a kitchen drawer while demoing the old kitchen.
The first time he’d whipped up a batch, it had tasted like his childhood when he’d had sleepovers at Nana and Pop’s house.
Nana would serve freshly baked biscuits and apple butter for breakfast before Zach and Pop would head out for a morning of fishing.
Without thinking, he walked over to the display of his spread and rearranged the glass jars. He took a mental inventory, noting he’d have to restock soon. His bourbon apple butter was always the best seller, and by the looks of it, he’d need to bring in more in the next day or two.
Just as he was finishing up the display, a voice behind him purred, “I sure do like that butter of yours,” and Samantha Weiss sidled up next to him.
Zach hadn’t even seen the recent divorcée come up behind him. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Samantha was all smiles as she leaned toward the apple butter, feigning interest in the glass jars, but in reality, she was showing off her impressive cleavage.
It might have been fall and only fifty degrees out, but Samantha was wearing tight black jeans, a low V-neck tank top, and an oversized cardigan that she let slip off her shoulder just so.
She ran a manicured nail along the glass jar. “Of course, maybe I could afford some of your apple butter if I wasn’t spending all my money trying to fix my back door,” she said, eyes flicking up at him.
Zach barely registered her words. “Uh-huh,” he replied, jotting down a reminder on his phone to restock the bourbon one.
He was about to wish her a good day when she reached out and squeezed his forearm.
“You know, Zach…” She lowered her voice, making it softer somehow, silkier. “You’re so good with your hands…” She trailed off suggestively.
Zach blinked. “I guess. I mean, it comes with the job,” he said, clearly not catching on.
Samantha let out a soft laugh. “They’re so strong and capable.” Her eyes flickered up to his. “And my back door just needs a bit of work. I was thinking maybe you could come by and… take care of it?” She cocked her head playfully.
Zach was staring off in the distance, trying to remember everything he needed to pick up. There was the drywall, screws, seam tape. Probably should grab a new sanding sponge.
Samantha cleared her throat.
“What was that?” He looked back at the woman.
“My back door. Will you take care of it?” Samantha looked up at him with innocent doe eyes.
Zach still missed her point entirely. “Oh, um, sure. No problem. I’ll grab my toolbox and stop by this weekend. Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”
Samantha clapped her hands together in front of her chest. “Perfect. I’ll make us a nice dinner as a thank you.”
Zach looked genuinely confused. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be in and out quick.”
Samantha laughed again, slow and teasing. “Promise?” She trailed her fingernail down Zach’s shoulder before squeezing his forearm one last time and sashaying out of the hardware store.
“Bro, that was painful to watch.” Zach’s best friend, Liam, emerged from the next aisle, grinning.
Zach turned away from the apple butter display and started heading toward the drywall. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he muttered.
Liam fell into step beside him, their strides and height almost equal. “You do realize she just invited you over for more than handyman work, right?”
Zach frowned. “What are you talking about? She needs her back door fixed.”
Liam snorted and scratched his beard. “Oh, she definitely wants something fixed.”
Zach shook his head, realization dawning a second too late. “Oh, hell.”
Liam cracked up, his dark eyes sparkling. “Man, I forgot how awful you are at this. It would almost be too painful if it wasn’t funny as hell.”
“I’m just a bit…” Zach trailed off, unsure how to finish.
“A bit preoccupied with the fiery redhead who’s back in town?” Liam prompted.
Zach shot him a look. Liam held up his hands.
“If looks could kill—I’m gonna let it slide and use Madison as the excuse for why you haven’t wished your best buddy a happy birthday yet.”
Zach blinked. “Sorry, man. You’re right. It is the twelfth. Happy birthday.”
“Wow. When you say it like that…” Liam laughed. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special. But that’s okay, you can make it up to me tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“The Kettle. Seven o’clock. Be there.”
The Kettle was short for the Copper Kettle and was the only place in town to grab a cold beer and play a round of billiards, darts, or keno—patrons’ choice. Zach was pretty sure they even had pull tabs.
“I don’t know… I’ve got a lot of work going on. There’s a bunch of projects. I don’t even have power?—”
Liam cut him off. “No excuses. You owe me.”
Zach glanced past the pegboard full of power tools. “I fixed your porch last year for free.”
“Different situation. This is a social obligation.”
Zach sighed. “You won’t be alone. I’m sure you’ve got the entire town lining up to buy you drinks.”
“True, but none of them are as fun to mess with as you.”
Zach weighed his chances of getting out of it.
Liam grinned. “Just agree to show up and get it over with.”
“I don’t know, man. The house, the orchard…” Zach tried one last time.
“What, harvesting apples on a Friday night?” Liam smirked.
Zach shot him a look. Liam damn well knew he didn’t need to harvest apples tonight.
He knew how it worked. They’d both helped Pop with the orchard back when Liam didn’t have his own farm to manage.
Now, though, Liam had an entire produce operation, a fall harvest to oversee, and way more land than Zach.
Zach’s was more of a hobby farm, focusing on small-batch apple butter and supporting a few local businesses, like his mom’s café and the bakery. The rest he bagged up as deer feed, selling that too at the hardware store.
Zach liked it that way, simple, relaxed. Ten acres, an apple orchard, and views of the lake. He couldn’t ask for better—well, maybe a house that wasn’t about to fall apart.
“No, but if I’m ever going to fix the house up, I’m going to have to work on it nights and weekends,” Zach said, rationalizing.
“I’m all for that. I’ll even lend a hand,” Liam offered. “But you’re not getting out of this, man. It’s my birthday. Shake on it.” Liam stuck out his hand, the same way he had since they were nine years old.
Zach shook his head but reached out anyway. “I’ll stop by. Promise.”
It was only when he walked away that he realized Madison might be invited too.