“It’s my gift,” she’d said, pressing a chocolate bourbon truffle into his hand. And after one taste, Jackson was convinced Cassidy knew what she was doing.
Now, on his way to Zoe’s shop, he tried to convince himself this was normal. He was just a guy showing up for a date with chocolates. A guy doing his damnedest to look the part of the perfect boyfriend.
Zoe stood behind the counter, arranging a last-minute bouquet for a final customer, and for a heartbeat, Jackson lost the ability to breathe. She wore a soft, blush-pink dress that brushed her knees, paired with a cream cardigan. The color made her skin glow, like she’d bottled the first warmth of spring and carried it with her. Her hair was loose around her face, a few strands tucked behind her ear as she concentrated on the flowers.
She was beautiful, Jackson thought. Just beautiful. The word seemed inadequate, but it was all he could think.
He was grateful Mrs. Bishop was still manning the register, because it gave him an excuse not to hide his reaction. He closed the distance in three long strides, sliding his free hand gently to Zoe’s hip before leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Hey, beautiful,” he murmured, surprising himself with how natural it sounded.
Zoe blinked, the slightest pink blooming on her cheeks. “You’re early,” she said, recovering fast.
“Couldn’t wait,” he said, softer than intended. He cleared his throat and offered her the box. “Cassidy said these are your favorite.”
She looked down, a smile tugging at her lips. “You didn’t have to?—”
“I know.” His mouth hitched, almost a smile. “But I wanted to.”
Mrs. Bishop let out a knowing “hmm” from behind the counter. Zoe shot her a warning look. Jackson hid a grin.
“Just finishing up here,” Zoe said, flustered now, fingers fumbling with a ribbon. “Two minutes.”
“Take your time.” Jackson leaned against the counter, pretending to study the tulips while sneaking another look at her.
Her cardigan hung a little off one shoulder, revealing just enough skin to make his pulse kick. It was enough to make any man forget the game they were supposed to be playing.
When she finally joined him, purse slung over her shoulder, she nodded toward the door. “Ready?”
“Sure. You just want to walk down?”
“May as well. The weather’s perfect.” She dropped her voice, adding with a sly smile, “And there are plenty of people out and about.”
Right. He was her fake boyfriend. He had to play the part. But not too well.
Zoe’s hand was tucked into the crook of his arm as they walked toward the Cinnamon Spice Inn, and every few steps, her hip brushed his. He told himself to relax, to breathe, but that was hard when she smelled like flowers and spring. Every inch of him ached with wanting her.
Behind them, Mrs. Bishop poked her head out of the flower shop and called, “There go Maple Falls’s cutest couple! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
Zoe blushed, her grip tightening on his arm, and Jackson felt his chest tighten in response. He forced a smile. He was doing what he was supposed to do, looking proud, looking like the guy lucky enough to win Zoe’s attention. So he dipped his head closer and whispered, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone pull off pink the way you do.”
Her laugh was soft, but she ducked her head, looking flustered.
Emily was locking up her bakery for the night when Zoe waved. Emily winked back, clearly entertained, and Jackson had the sinking feeling the entire town was holding its breath,waiting for him to sweep Zoe off her feet, dance her down the middle of the street, or kiss her under the streetlight.
The intensity of how bad Jackson wanted to do that blew him away. He didn’t just want one stolen kiss in a greenhouse; he wanted all of her kisses.
When the Cinnamon Spice Inn finally came into view, its porch lit by lanterns and the smell of Kit’s cooking drifting into the street, Jackson swallowed hard. It should’ve felt like a role, a game. He had never been much of an actor, but he should be able to pull this off. Going to dinner with friends shouldn’t make his pulse unsteady. But here he was, wishing he wasn’t faking anything. Wishing he could pull Zoe just a little closer as if she were really his.
Stepping into the lobby, the smell of something buttery and garlicky hit him, and his stomach growled right on cue.
“Hey, kids, ready to eat some delicious food?” Kit called as she came out to greet them, allowing them to bypass the hostess completely. Kit wore her white chef’s coat over dark jeans, Converse sneakers on her feet, and a red bandana tied at her hairline.
The foursome was tucked into her private chef’s table, a cozy nook Zach had built during the inn’s renovations last fall. The spot sat just off the kitchen, close enough to hear the clatter of pans and smell everything as it came hot from the stove.
“Doesn’t everything smell amazing?” Madison remarked, reaching into her purse for her notebook.
Zach groaned. “Wait. No. You promised you weren’t going to work tonight.”
Madison rolled her green eyes. “This doesn’t count as work. I’m a food writer—it’s literally my job to appreciate great food. And Kit said she had a brand-new spring menu for us to sample.”
