“Oh, we’re calling them missions now?” she teased.
He arched a brow. “You’re the one who’s got me undercover as your fake boyfriend. Seems appropriate.”
Zoe laughed softly, the sound curling right around his heart. “Touché.”
Anita dropped off their orders a few minutes later—thick pancakes bursting with blueberries—and left them to their cozy corner.
The light hit Zoe’s face just right, the blue in her eyes bright as spring sky. She caught him staring and cocked her head. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, too quickly, taking a bite of pancake. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
He hesitated, then met her gaze. “How easy this all feels.”
The low hum of conversation and the smell of coffee and warm pastry wrapped around them.
Zoe’s breath hitched, the sound barely audible, but he heard it. He felt it.
She looked down at her plate, smiling to herself, but her voice was quieter when she said, “Yeah. It really does.”
He forced himself to look away, out the window where the town was bathed in sunshine and everyone was out enjoying their Sundays.
Jackson had been through storms and fire, lost friends and years. But nothing had ever undone him quite like this woman sitting across from him, sunlight transforming her into a mirage he could never have—but couldn’t stop wanting.
NINE
ZOE
Sunday, March 9th
The Maple Falls library didn’t open until 1p.m. on Sundays, which meant they had a bit of time.
“Want to take a walk around the lake?” Jackson suggested.
Zoe smiled, because honestly, there was nothing she would love more than stolen moments in the sunshine with him.
“I’d love that,” she said softly, and when he held out his hand, she took it.
Bear Lake shimmered in the late-morning light, the surface dappled with ripples that caught the sun like scattered diamonds. The air smelled faintly of damp pine and earth, with the sweet undertone of something blooming nearby—wild violets, maybe. A pair of loons glided across the water. They took turns, disappearing under the water. Behind them, downtown Maple Falls buzzed in the background. A bell chimed from the church on Oak Way, a dog barked, a child’s laughter carried from the park.
Zoe had walked this path a hundred times before, but somehow, today felt different. The light seemed warmer, the colors more vivid, every sound more alive. Maybe it was theway Jackson’s fingers brushed against hers as they walked, or how his quiet presence seemed to ground her even as her heart fluttered wildly in her chest.
They followed the path that turned away from town, past budding birch trees and benches carved with names of loved ones. The town council had planted tulips along the edges, tiny pops of red and yellow peeking through the fresh spring grass.
“I love being outside,” Zoe said. “I love my flower shop, too. But out here there’s no ribbon scraps, loose petals, or glitter glue in my hair.”
Jackson’s mouth hitched, almost a smile. “You get glitter in your hair often?”
“Occupational hazard,” she said solemnly.
He stopped walking, inclining his head as he reached toward her. “You, uh…actually do have some right now.”
“What? No, I don’t.”
“Hold still,” he murmured, brushing his fingers lightly through her hair. His touch lingered longer than necessary, the faintest tug of static sparking between them. When he pulled his hand back, tiny specks of gold glitter clung to his fingertips. “See? Evidence.”
She laughed. “Guess I really am a walking craft project. Admit it—you’d miss the old me if I suddenly became neat and sensible.”
