Page 23

CHAPTER 23

NATE

The crunch of snow under our boots echoes through the crisp morning air as Amelia, Jason, and I make our way from the forest toward the Moon Meadows Maple Farm shop. The sun glints off the fresh powder, making everything sparkle like diamonds. It would be beautiful if I wasn’t so concerned about the damage report we need to deliver.

“The good news,” I begin, watching Jason’s expression carefully, “is that most of your trees weathered the storm well. The infrastructure you have in place protected the majority of your collection system.”

Jason nods, his hazel eyes—almost golden in the winter light—showing relief and lingering worry. “But there’s bad news too, right?”

Amelia adjusts her clipboard before speaking. “We found some stress fractures in about fifteen percent of your older trees. The weight of the ice, combined with the strong winds, caused more damage than usual.”

“Shit.” Jason runs a hand through his brown hair, disturbing the few snowflakes that settled there during our inspection. “That’s what I was afraid of. The weather patterns have been getting more extreme every year.”

We pause as we walk past the entrance to the sugar shack, and I can smell the distinctive sweet aroma of maple syrup wafting from inside. “Your thesis focus on diversification couldn’t be more timely,” I tell him, thinking about the detailed plans he’d shared earlier about tapping different species of trees.

“Yeah.” Jason leans against the wooden railing of the porch. “I’ve been researching birch and beech particularly. Their syrup production is different, but they’re hardier against climate fluctuations.”

Jason’s sister Brie comes out of the shop as we enter. “Hey, guys, how was the assessment?”

Jason sighs. “Looks like it could be worse.”

“I’m on my way to the farmhouse,” Brie says. “Dad’s in the office, and he’ll want to hear about the report.”

I nod.

“Actually, I have a meeting right now,” Jason says, checking his watch and then turning to Amelia and me. “But you two should definitely go in. If you’re lucky, Sheila might have made her chocolate chip cookies.”

Amelia’s eyes light up at the mention of cookies. “Oh. Count me in!”

I reach out to shake Jason’s hand. “I’ll email you the detailed report later today.”

As we follow Brie out, movement at the bottom of the steps catches my eye. My heart flips when I see Caspian bundled up in my coat. Seeing him in my coat will never not make my heart skip a beat.

“Oh hey, everyone!” Caspian’s bright voice carries through the cold air, his cheeks pink from the winter chill.

“Caspian!” Amelia practically bounces down the steps to hug him. When she pulls back, she eyes the coat with a knowing smirk. “That’s a nice coat. Looks familiar somehow…”

I feel heat creep up my neck that has nothing to do with the temperature. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, since that night at his place, and just the sight of him wearing my clothes makes my pulse quicken.

“Does it?” Caspian’s eyes meet mine briefly, a playful glint in them that makes me want to grab him and kiss that teasing smile right off his face. “I think it suits me.”

“It definitely does,” I manage to say, my voice rougher than intended.

Jason clears his throat. “Hey, Caspian, thank you for coming. Do you want to come inside? I’ve got the samples all ready for you.”

“Right, yes!” Caspian straightens, all business now. “I’m really looking forward to trying them all.” He starts to follow Jason but pauses to look back at me. “See you around, Nate?”

I nod, probably too eagerly. “Definitely.”

As they walk away, Amelia elbows me in the ribs. “Real smooth, Stone. Real smooth.”

I give her a little push as we follow Brie up the path to the farmhouse. “Shut up and go get your cookies.”

The meeting with Jason’s dad goes quickly, and soon, we’re heading back outside. Amelia clutches her box of cookies like it’s made of gold, the smell of butter and chocolate making my stomach growl despite having eaten breakfast.

“These are mine,” she declares, holding the box closer. “All mine. Sheila gave them to me specifically.”

I laugh, shoving my hands in my pockets against the cold. “I wouldn’t dare try to steal them. I value my life too much.”

As we approach her car, I spot Caspian’s familiar vehicle still parked next to Amelia’s. My heart does that ridiculous flutter again, and before I can overthink it, I turn to Amelia.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I say, trying to sound casual.

She raises an eyebrow, hugging her cookie box. “I’m listening, but if it involves sharing these cookies, the answer is no.”

“You can keep all the cookies,” I assure her.

Both her eyebrows shoot up. “What do you want?”

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling like a teenager asking someone to cover for him with his parents. “If you could head back to the office without me…you can email me your notes, and I’ll write the report at home.”

Her eyes dart to Caspian’s car, and a knowing grin spreads across her face. “Oh, I see. And how exactly are you planning to get back to town? We’re miles out.” She pauses dramatically. “Unless…you’re hoping a certain coffee shop owner might offer you a ride?”

“Something like that,” I admit, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks despite the cold.

Amelia’s grin widens as she unlocks her car. “Deal. But only because you look so adorably smitten right now.” She slides into the driver’s seat, rolling down the window. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“That doesn’t rule out much,” I call after her as she drives away, her laughter carrying on the winter wind.

I turn back toward the building, my heart starting to race.

Leaning against Caspian’s car, I stuff my hands deeper into my pockets to ward off the cold. The metal is freezing through my jacket, but I don’t mind. The anticipation of seeing him again keeps me warm enough.

After what feels like forever but is probably only fifteen minutes, the office door opens. Caspian emerges with Jason, both carrying boxes I’m betting contain varied grades of maple syrup. Their laughter carries across the snow-covered ground, and I try to ignore the tiny prick of jealousy in my chest.

Caspian spots me first, his bright smile faltering into confusion as he glances around the parking lot. “Nate? Where’s your car?”

“Looks like I need a ride,” I say, pushing off his car and stepping closer. “If you’re heading back to town.”

Jason shoots me a knowing look as he helps Caspian load the boxes into his trunk. “The syrup samples should work great in your specialty drinks,” he tells Caspian. “Let me know how the testing goes?”

“Absolutely,” Caspian promises. “I’ll call you once I’ve tried them all out.”

After Jason heads back inside, Caspian turns to me with a raised eyebrow. “So…do you actually need a ride somewhere? The office, maybe?”

I step close enough to catch the scent of coffee and vanilla that seems to follow him everywhere. “My schedule just opened up for the rest of the day. What about yours?”

His eyes sparkle with understanding. “Funny thing, mine suddenly cleared up too.”

“In that case,” I say, reaching out to tug gently on the lapel of my coat that he’s wearing. I pull him closer and capture his lips with mine, savoring the warmth and sweetness of his mouth before pulling back with a smile. “I’m taking you out.”

“Oh?” His smile is playful as he unlocks the car. “Where are we going?”

I slide into the passenger seat, waiting until he’s settled behind the wheel before answering. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Caspian starts the car, the heating kicking in immediately. “Mysterious,” he teases.

Following my directions, Caspian drives us back into town. When we turn onto Maple Street, his eyes widen as I point him toward Red’s Restaurant.

“This is amazing,” he says, taking in the classic Worcester Lunch Car with its white paint and red trim. “It looks like something out of a movie.”

“Wait until you’re inside,” I tell him, unable to hold back my smile at his enthusiasm. “Red’s is one of those places where time just…slows down.”

As we walk up the switchback ramp to the entrance, Caspian asks, “Is this where the famous diner feud I keep hearing about started?”

“You’ve heard about that already?” I hold the door open for him, the familiar bell chiming above us. “Yeah, this is half of it. Though nobody really knows what actually started it anymore.”

“Reminds me a bit of being offline during the storm,” Caspian says softly as we enter the main dining area. “Like the rest of the world just fades away.”

The comparison makes my chest warm. “Exactly like that.”

Mickey approaches our booth with menus, and I watch Caspian’s eyes travel over the classic interior—the gleaming chrome, the weathered Formica countertops, the checkered floor. Everything here has history, stories embedded in every crack and chip.

“What’s good here?” Caspian asks Mickey, who’s hovering with his notepad ready.

“Everything,” Mickey answers with practiced ease. “But whatever you do, save room for the maple custard pie. It’s what we’re famous for.”

Caspian’s eyes light up. “In that case, I’ll just have the pie.”

“He’ll share my food,” I cut in, giving Mickey my usual order. “Denver omelet, extra crispy bacon, and hashbrowns.”

“Don’t think this means I’m sharing my pie,” Caspian says once Mickey walks away, but his playful smile tells me he’s joking.

“How’s everything coming along with the shop?” I ask, watching as Caspian unconsciously arranges the sugar packets in their holder. His need to organize things, even in spaces that aren’t his, is endearing.

“Actually, I’ve decided to open during the Winter Wishes Festival,” he says, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Everything’s ready, and Bo and everyone at the community development office have been amazing with helping coordinate the details for the coffee stand, so I’m confident I can do both. The committee is even letting me bring one of my machines to make specialty drinks at my booth.”

The enthusiasm in his voice makes me smile. In just a few weeks, he’s managed to weave himself into the fabric of Maplewood like he’s always belonged here. Something warm and tender unfurls in my chest as I watch him talk about his plans, his hands moving animatedly as he describes the coffee station setup.

Mickey returns with our food, setting down a plate piled high with the omelet, perfectly crisp bacon arranged in a red ceramic mug, and golden hashbrowns. The familiar sight makes my stomach growl.

“The pie will be out in a bit,” Mickey says with a wink before heading back to the counter.

I push the plate to the center of the table and hand Caspian a fork. “Dig in. Mickey makes the best omelets in town.”

“In town?” Caspian raises an eyebrow as he takes a bite. His eyes widen. “Okay, maybe in the state. This is incredible.”

We fall into a comfortable conversation as we share the food, occasionally battling for the last bite of bacon or a particularly crispy bit of hashbrown. It feels natural, sitting here with him in my favorite diner, watching the winter light filter through the windows and catch in his dark hair.

Mickey returns with a generous slice of maple custard pie, and Caspian’s face lights up like it’s Christmas morning.

The pie barely touches the table before Caspian’s fork is diving in for the first bite. His eyes close in bliss as he savors it, and I find myself watching his reaction more than wanting a taste myself.

“Oh my god,” he moans softly. “This is…I mean…wow.”

I chuckle. “I take it you approve?”

“Approve?” He takes another bite, shaking his head. “Nate, this is a life-changing pie. I need to figure out how to incorporate these flavors into a coffee drink.”

“Don’t let Mickey hear you say that,” I warn him, only half-joking. “The pie recipe is sacred territory around here.”

Caspian glances at the counter where Mickey is wiping down the surface, then leans forward conspiratorially. “I wouldn’t dream of copying it. But maybe a maple custard latte…” He trails off, and I can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

The way he gets lost in his coffee creations, the spark of creativity in his eyes—it’s incredibly attractive. I find myself leaning forward too, drawn into his enthusiasm.

“Speaking of your coffee creations,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite how much I want to kiss him right now, “what do you say we get out of here? I’d love to see how the shop’s coming along.”

His eyes meet mine, and the heat I see there tells me he’s thinking about more than just showing me the shop. “Yeah,” he says, voice a little rough. “Yeah, let’s do that.”