Zoe caught sight of Cassidy weaving through the crowd. “Is that actually an Easter sweater?” she teased as Cassidy reached for a bouquet.
Cassidy tipped her head, showing off her tiny pastel bunnies that sparkled in the sun. “Yep, but don’t worry, I’ll have my festive ones back out soon. Christmas is in 257 days…”
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you know that,” Zoe said with a smile.
She was arranging a bucket of blue blossoms when a familiar shadow stretched across the booth. She looked up to see Jackson, hands in his pockets, a half grin tugging at his mouth.
“Can I persuade you to come away with me?” he asked, his voice low.
Zoe tilted her head, amusement sparking in her eyes. “Away? From my busiest day of the year?” She gestured to the bustling booth behind her, where a reporter was snapping photos andMrs. Bishop was haggling over three bouquets at once. “You’re asking a lot, Mr. Hawthorne.”
Jackson leaned one elbow against the counter, casual but insistent. “I know. But the Spring Fling isn’t going anywhere, and neither are your flowers. I’m asking for five minutes. Maybe ten. Just you and me.”
Her lips quirked. “Five minutes, huh? What’s in it for me?”
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear despite the spring breeze. “Sunshine. Cotton candy. Possibly a dance under the cherry blossoms. Come on, Zoe. You’ve given Maple Falls its flowers. Give me a little of your time.”
She glanced at the booth, at the line forming. Then back at him. Her heart tugged toward the square, toward him. “Ten minutes,” she said finally, sliding her hand into his.
“Deal,” Jackson murmured, squeezing her fingers. “Though I was hoping you’d say forever.”
Zoe rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Forever’s negotiable. Cotton candy first.”
He laughed, pulling her gently from behind the booth as petals drifted through the air, the town square blooming with color and music all around them.
“Why are your hands sweaty?” Jackson asked, his tone teasing, though his thumb smoothed over her knuckles.
“I’m nervous,” Zoe confessed. “I know we’ve got a good chance, but what if the votes went to someone else? What if it’s Cassidy and Liam? Everyone adores them. Remember the Christmas Light-Up? They practically had the whole town under their spell.”
Jackson opened his mouth, but Zoe pressed on.
“And Madison and Zach—the Cinnamon Spice Inn is beloved. People root for them. What if there’s another couple we’re not even thinking of? Edith and the mayor even? It’s normally a young couple who wins, but they did just getmarried…” She sighed. “I just…I don’t want to disappoint Mom.”
Jackson squeezed her hand, steady, grounding. “How much did she wager?”
Zoe winced. “Five thousand. Maybe more. Maybe I should raise the flower prices, try to cover it. Or dip into savings. I could?—”
“Zoe.” Jackson stopped her mid-spiral, tilting her chin so she’d look at him. “Listen to me. Everything will be okay. Whether we win or not. We didn’t make your mom place that bet. And if anyone in this town can’t see how crazy in love I am with you, then they’re fools.”
Zoe smiled. “Crazy in love, huh?”
“Completely.” His grin widened. “You, Zoe Hart, are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And you are the love of my life. If I’m lucky, you’ll be by my side forever.”
“Jackson, I?—”
“I loved you when we were kids making mud pies. I loved you in middle school, when you got up on stage and sang Beyoncé at the talent show.”
Zoe laughed, cheeks warming. “It’s Beyoncé. What’s not to love?”
“I loved you when you dragged us all to prom as a group. You thought I didn’t notice, but I knew—it was because you were scared to ask me, and I was just as scared to ask you.”
Zoe blinked fast, her chest tightening.
“I loved you when you moved away, chasing your dreams. And when you came home to take over the flower shop, turning it into something even more beautiful than your mom’s. I loved you when you looked at me and actually saw me. I’ve loved you longer than I know. And I’ll keep loving you—for the rest of my life.”
Before she could answer, a hush swept through the square.
Mayor Bloomfield, punctual as ever, stepped up to the gazebo at five o’clock on the dot. His outfit was a vision in pastels with powder-blue slacks, a pale yellow shirt, and a crisp white tie that gleamed in the sun. His fashion sense always made her smile.
