Page 14 of Treated to a Mountain Man (Fall for a Mountain Man #11)

Cinnamon

Halloween night in Woodbridge Falls turned Main Street into a river of miniature ghosts, witches, and superheroes.

Jack-o'-lanterns flickered in every shop window, casting dancing shadows on the sidewalk.

I adjusted my blue gingham dress and ruby slippers—Dorothy had never worked a candy counter, but tonight she would.

"Hold still," I said, trying to fix Sawyer's silver face paint where it had smudged. He stood rigid in his Tin Man costume, the cardboard and aluminum foil contraption we'd cobbled together making him look absolutely ridiculous, but somehow it worked on him.

"This is torture," he grumbled, though his eyes showed nothing but humor.

"You're the one who insisted on couples costumes." I dabbed more paint on his jaw. "Besides, you make a very handsome Tin Man."

"Even without the heart?" he joked.

"Especially with yours," I said, pressing my hand to his chest. "It's my favorite part."

Lucy squealed from behind us. "That's adorable!

Can I post that?" She'd embraced being one of Santa's elves with enthusiasm—green tights, pointed ears, and enough jingle bells to announce her presence from a block away.

She'd been documenting our presence on social media, which had exploded with followers since the competition.

She checked her phone for the tenth time in as many minutes. "The party at Mason's farm just started. Would it be okay if I headed out? I mean, I can stay if you need me—"

"Go," I laughed. "No sixteen-year-old should spend all Halloween night working. We've got this."

"You're the best!" She grabbed her overnight bag from behind the counter. "I'll post those photos tonight!"

The bell above the door jingled as she left, immediately replaced by a wave of trick-or-treaters. "Midnight Maple Shadows!" a boy dressed as Spider-Man shouted. "The winning candy!"

I handed him one of the special Halloween boxes we'd created—black with gold maple leaves, each containing two of the now-famous truffles. Business had been better than I'd dared hope since Sunday.

Throughout the evening, familiar faces stopped by. The hardware store owner bought three boxes. A woman I recognized from the post office smiled as she selected treats. "Congratulations on your win. We're glad you're staying in town."

Each friendly nod loosened something in my chest that had been wound tight for years. People I'd only passed on the street now stopped to chat, to congratulate me, to welcome me properly to Woodbridge Falls.

During a lull, I leaned against Sawyer. "I keep waiting for something to go wrong."

"Why?"

"This." I gestured at the shop, the steady flow of customers, the stack of orders. "It feels too good to be real."

He turned me to face him, his painted face serious despite the costume. "You earned this."

"Even after what I've been through?"

"Because of what you've survived." His thumb traced my cheek. "You fought for this. You deserve every good thing that's coming."

My phone rang—not a text, an actual call. Mom's number lit up the screen.

"Cinnamon?" Her voice was tentative when I answered. "We saw the news about your competition win online. Some food blogger shared the story."

"Mom." My voice cracked slightly. Sawyer squeezed my hand.

"We're so proud of you, sweetheart. Your father and I would love to come for Thanksgiving, if you'll have us."

I hadn't seen them since my life imploded. "I'd love that."

"Good." She paused. "You sound happy, really happy."

I looked at Sawyer, this stubborn tree farmer who'd helped me rebuild. "I am, Mom. I really am."

"Then we can't wait to see you and your new life there."

After we hung up, I stood there for a moment, phone in hand.

"You okay?" Sawyer asked.

"They want to reconnect. After what I put them through."

"They love you. That never stopped, even when things got bad."

"I want you to meet them when they come."

"I'd like that," he said simply.

Chief Morrison knocked on the window, giving us a thumbs up. He'd stopped by yesterday to tell us they'd found evidence at my shop—Garrett's fingerprints, security footage from the bank showing him breaking in.

"Garrett confessed," the Chief had said. "Said Belinda put him up to it. They both took plea deals. Community service, probation, hefty fines. Word is Belinda's already listing her shop."

I'd felt no satisfaction at the news, only understanding. Desperation made people do terrible things. I knew that better than most. I glanced across the square at Belinda's dark storefront and hoped she'd find peace. We all deserved another chance.

As the evening wound down and the trick-or-treaters thinned out, we cleaned up together. I looked around my shop with fresh eyes. The vintage candy molds on the walls. The displays I'd carefully arranged. Congratulations cards still arriving daily.

"You know what I realized?" I said suddenly.

"What's that?"

"I spent so long waiting for others to accept me, to prove I was worthy.

But the person whose forgiveness I needed most was my own.

" The words came out quiet but sure. "Once I forgave myself—really forgave myself—for my past, for my mistakes, for the pain I caused.

.. that's when things started changing."

Sawyer pulled me close. "And now?"

"Now I understand that every part of my story led me here. The addiction, the work I did to survive, the recovery—it all shaped who I am. Sweet Cinn kept me alive long enough to become just Cinn."

"And Cinn is pretty incredible," he said.

"Even the messy parts?"

"Those are what made you strong enough to rebuild. To fight for this dream when most people would have given up."

We locked up the shop, the last of the Halloween festivities winding down around us. Orange lights still glowed in windows, and we could hear the last few children comparing their candy hauls.

"So what's next?" Sawyer asked as we walked to his truck.

"Tomorrow we start working on Christmas flavors. I need to hire help. Learn to cook a turkey." I smiled. "What about us?"

He answered by kissing me.

The future stretched ahead, no longer out of reach. My shop was thriving, the town had accepted me, and my family was coming back. Best of all, I had Sawyer—who knew everything about me and chose to stay.

"Ready to go home?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, and for the first time, I knew exactly where that was.