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“It smells divine in here. What have you two been up to?” Pulling Lily in for a hug, Maggie’s eyes sweep across the covered dishes scattered across the countertop.

I scratch the back of my head, my cheeks heating. Why am I embarrassed? She’s going to love this. I get the feeling Maggie isn’t used to others taking care of and pampering her. “It’s been a long week, so we made you dinner.”

Lily puffs out her chest as she pulls out of her mother’s arms, like she’s the one who did all the cooking… not me. “Yeah, chocolate and vegetables. Your favorite!”

Biting my lip, I try to hold in the laughter clawing up my throat, but I fail, a booming chuckle ringing through the kitchen.

“You have a great laugh,” Maggie says, a soft smile on her lips.

Lips I can’t stop dreaming about every damn night. Are they soft and sweet like her personality? Does she taste as good as she smells? Like crisp, succulent apples.

Right on cue, her intoxicating apple scent swirls around me, clouding my senses for a second before I blink and push those thoughts away. Far away… for now. “Thank you. Are you done with work for the day?”

“All done.” She wipes her hands on her jeans, drawing my eyes to the wide set of her hips and her thick thighs. Saliva pools in my mouth, fangs aching to sink into her supple curves .

“Sorry I’ve been putting in long hours this week. We’re gearing up for harvest, so I need to make sure everything is in place.”

Turning away from her lingering gaze, I busy my hands in the cupboard, grabbing a stack of plates. “I get it. This place doesn’t run by itself.”

Maggie grabs silverware and napkins from one of the drawers. “It’s such a beautiful evening. We should eat outside. You’re staying? Right, Viktor?”

“Pleeeeeeease,” Lily adds with her bottom lip pushed out. No one could say no to those big eyes and cute face.

“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t miss such a wonderful feast.”

Maggie’s eyes heat at the word feast , but she clears her throat. Dropping her gaze to her plate, she fills it with grilled chicken breast, sauteed veggies, and creamy fettuccine alfredo.

“ T hat was amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever had chocolate raspberry cheesecake.” Maggie dabs her mouth with a paper napkin before setting it on her plate.

“ Double chocolate raspberry cheesecake,” I correct, following suit.

She laughs, the lyrical sound floating on the evening breeze. “Nothing like death by chocolate. Thank you for cooking. You enjoy it, don’t you?”

Smiling, I lace my fingers together and rest my hands on the table. “I do. It helps me express my emotions. If I’m sad, I cook. If I’m happy, I cook. If I’m stressed… I cook. You get the idea.” When I’m trying to impress someone, I cook. But I keep that part to myself.

“I suppose there are worse habits to have. I certainly won’t say no to more delicious desserts.” Her wink catches me off guard.

“Momma, watch me!” Lily calls out from the trampoline. Like most children, she ate a few bites of her dinner, declared she was full, and ran off to the play set and trampoline while Maggie and I finished eating. However, when I brought dessert out, she suddenly had more room in her belly.

Sufficiently sugared up, she’s been bouncing on the trampoline for the past fifteen minutes or so.

“I’m watching!” Maggie yells, head turned toward her daughter. Lily falls back onto the trampoline, letting it spring her up onto her feet again.

With Maggie working long hours this week, I haven’t gotten many opportunities to have an adult conversation with her. I want to know everything about her. Where did she grow up? How did she end up the owner of an orchard? Most importantly, how did she end up a widow?

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I blurt, “How did your husband pass?”

Smooth, Viktor. I wince, removing my foot from my mouth—metaphorically speaking.

Wide-eyed, Maggie’s gaze slides from Lily to me, and I’m unable to decipher the emotion that flits behind her pale-green irises.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s just… I’d like to get to know you better.”

Her throat works, but she nods. “It’s okay. I-I’m used to people asking. It’s been over four years, for crying out loud, and Maple Ridge Hollow is kind of a small town.”

“I noticed.”

Reaching onto the table, she fiddles with the edge of her balled-up napkin.

“Roman and I were high school sweethearts. We grew up in the same town a few hours north of here. My parents actually still live there. Anyway, after college, we got married and lived in the city for a while. But we were miserable—especially Roman.” She smiles at me, eyes watery.

“He hated the noise of the city. The smells. All the people. And he especially hated working inside all day.”

He sounds a lot like me.

“When I found out I was pregnant with Lily, the decision kind of made itself.”

“What do you mean?”

“We didn’t want to raise our kids in the city, so knowing we had a baby on the way forced us into action. This place was up for auction. It needed a lot of work. And I mean a lot . But Roman was determined.” With her eyes focused on Lily, she releases a content sigh.

I turn, watching the little girl run after a firefly as the sun’s last rays fade along the horizon.

“Hindsight, we were idiots .” She chuckles. “We didn’t know the first thing about running an orchard, two thirty-year-olds who grew up in the suburbs. Who were we kidding?”

My eyebrows scrunch. The abundance of apples on the trees would prove otherwise. “It seems like the trees are thriving. ”

“All thanks to Jean-Luc. I don’t think you’ve met him yet. He’s a grumpy bastard, but he took Roman under his wing and taught him everything. He was the foreman for the previous owners and graciously agreed to work for us once we took over.”

Silence falls over us, only interrupted by the crickets chirping and Lily’s distant laughter.

“Jean-Luc is the one who found him.”

Before I can second guess myself, I reach across the table to squeeze her hand. “I-I can’t even imagine the pain you’ve been through, Maggie. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. You don’t have to tell me anything else if it’s too hard.”