Jackson’s name lit the screen, but instead of a reply, the three dots appeared. Then vanished. Then appeared again. Her heart thudded each time they blinked in and out, like watching him wrestle with his reply.
Finally, the words settled.
I’ve got the list ready. I’ll pick you up at five if that works.
Zoe huffed out a breath. She brushed her fingers over Whiskers’s fur and whispered, “Five it is.”
TWENTY
JACKSON
Friday, March 14th
Jackson spent most of the morning and half the afternoon out in the paddock working with his stallion, Xavier. The big bay was temperamental on his best days, too smart for his own good, and prone to testing boundaries. Today was no different. But Jackson liked the challenge, the quiet communication between man and animal. The soft thud of hooves, the creak of leather, the steadying sound of his own breathing.
Still, every now and then, his focus slipped. He’d catch himself glancing toward the ridge, where the trailhead waited, and picture Zoe there with the wind in her hair, eyes bright with that unshakable optimism. He told himself to focus on Xavier, on the work. But the more he tried, the more his thoughts wandered to the way her laugh had lingered in his head all morning.
He hadn’t realized until now just how much he was looking forward to seeing her again.
He thought about taking the motorcycle to meet her. He loved the feeling of Zoe behind him, arms wrapped snug aroundhis waist, her laughter catching on the wind as they raced through backroads.
But he didn’t know what type of gear she’d have or where exactly the trailhead was located. His truck would be a smarter option. Which was why, at 4:45p.m., Jackson slid into the farm’s dusty pickup, the one with feed bags in the bed and a faint smell of hay clinging to the upholstery, and pointed the truck toward town.
Maple Falls seemed to glow in the bright spring sunshine. It reflected off shop windows, making everything seem cleaner, fresher, ready to welcome in the new season. His window was down, and as he drove through town the air was thick with the scent of sugar from the Pumpkin Pie Bakery and roasted coffee drifting down from Anita’s café. Flower baskets hung from the lampposts; soon they’d be overflowing with purple and pink petunias as the days grew longer and temperatures inched hotter.
As soon as he pulled into a spot in front of the Cherry Crush Flower Shop, he caught sight of Zoe through the front window, standing with her arms loosely folded, pretending to listen to Mrs. Bishop, who was animatedly chatting with a customer at the counter. The bell over the door jingled, and a moment later Zoe stepped out, the glow of the shop spilling around her before the door clicked shut.
“Right on time,” she said, sliding into the passenger seat more relaxed than he expected, seeing how they’d ended things a few nights ago.
Jackson gave a small nod, his hands steady on the wheel, though his pulse ticked faster at the faint trace of her perfume. It was something floral, lighter and softer than the blossoms she worked with every day.
She wore fitted jeans tucked into scuffed hiking boots and a soft navy sweater that made her eyes look bluer than the skyoutside. A loose braid fell over one shoulder, though half of it was already escaping in curls. Her canvas backpack sat at her feet, the zipper slightly open, a corner of a folded map sticking out alongside a granola bar and what looked suspiciously like a pair of pruning shears.
“Ready?” he asked.
She grinned, tugging the strap of her backpack up. “I brought snacks, the map, and a wildly inaccurate sense of direction.”
Jackson chuckled under his breath. “So, business as usual.”
“Exactly.” She leaned back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure how clear the trail is, but I think we should start near the old covered bridge off Route 22. Part of the trail used to pass right under it, and there’s a good spot to pull over by the shoulder.”
Jackson nodded once, the memory already unfolding. “I know it. Liam and I used to fish under that bridge when we were kids. It’s more creek than river at that point, but you can wade upriver to where it widens out.”
He should’ve said more, should’ve kept the conversation moving like any friend would. Instead, he found himself too aware of her. His nerves felt alive, his pulse quickening at her scent, her nearness. In that moment he was back in her apartment. Her, perched on the table, cheeks flushed, sapphire eyes sparkling.
By some miracle he forced his attention back to the road, reminding himself this was Zoe. His best friend. Their friendship was the steadiest and most precious thing in his life, and he couldn’t afford to ruin it.
And thank God she was acting normal. She picked up the conversation, talking about the trail, the high points where she thought the flowers might be.
Zoe shifted in her seat, turning slightly toward him. “Edith and the mayor’s wedding is next Friday. You’re still good to gowith me, right? I’ll have to handle the flowers beforehand, but once they’re delivered, I’m just a regular guest like everyone else.”
“Absolutely.” His tone was even unlike hers. He could hear the doubt in her voice. But Jackson was a man of his word, no matter the tension snapping and crackling inside of him.
“What other fake dating events are you roping me into this week?” he asked, glancing her way as the truck turned off Oak Way and onto the two-lane road leading toward the foothills.
Her smile tilted. “If you’re sure…How do you feel about Walleye Weekend? The Cherry Crush is one of the sponsors, and it’s a good chance for us to be out and about with the community and get people wanting to vote for us. Afterwards, they’re having a fish fry, and rumor has it there’s even fireworks. It should be fun!”
Jackson could already picture the community park, picnic blankets spread in bright patches, kids running wild while the council handed out fried perch and French fries. Down by the shoreline, boats would drift across Bear Lake as fishermen cast their lines toward the reeds, patient and hopeful for walleye.
