Page 12 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

When she glanced up, Tyler was already watching her. There was that glint of amusement again, but something softer, too. Something that said he’d seen the shift in her before she had. His mouth curved, slow and private, and Robyn felt her own smile answer it before she could stop herself.

Then Cassidy cleared her throat.

Robyn blinked and looked away, heat rising in her cheeks.

Cassidy’s eyebrows had climbed halfway to her blonde hairline. “So,” she said, dragging the word out with far too much interest, “are we calling Zoe, or should we give you two another minute?”

SIX

TYLER

The bookstore had gone quiet. The overhead speakers had cycled through their playlist twice already, and the pumpkin pie book nook smelled like cinnamon and cold coffee. It was just Tyler and Robyn now. Mrs. C. had been the last to leave, Robyn practically ushering her out the door so she could lock up.

Outside, night had settled over Oak Way, the streetlights flickering on one by one. A soft autumn rain had started to fall, tapping lightly against the front windows and turning the bookstore into a warm little pocket of light and quiet.

Tyler loved this time of year—how the world went dark early, how the air smelled like wet leaves and crisp apples, how Maple Falls looked like it had been lit from the inside. The book club had carried out their plates and napkins and crockpots with plenty of excitement for tomorrow’s hike. But still, they left behind crumbs, a crumpled napkin here, a stray fork there, and trash that had to be taken out. Tyler saw to those tasks while Robyn pushed the tables back and tucked in the chairs.

He glanced toward her as she tidied the space, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair falling in loose waves around her face. The overhead lights made the copper in her chestnut hair glow, and all Tyler could think of was how beautiful she looked in that moment.

With just the two of them in the store, the atmosphere shifted into a deeper kind of quiet that made every sound sharper. The rain tapping against the window. The hum of the furnace. The faint creak of old wood settling.

Tyler exhaled and looked around the closed bookstore. At Robyn. And reminded himself to stick to his boundaries. He should leave soon. His friend Jackson had asked him to meet him for a beer at The Kettle, and Zoe was still watching Emma. He didn’t want to get home too late.

But first, he remembered the shelf that was slanting. In the home improvement section of all places. He was rarely here when the shop was closed as he needed to pick his daughter up from school. Now was the perfect time to see to it before the entire shelf collapsed.

He grabbed the small toolbox Meg kept behind the counter and crouched down in front of the shelf. It took just a moment to realize all that it needed was an extra bracket. The weight of the shelf had caused the previous screw to pull out.

“Thank you.” Robyn’s voice floated over. “I noticed it the other day and then forgot about it.”

He focused on the bracket and started tightening the screw, the metal squeaking faintly as it caught.

The rain kept tapping at the window.

He felt her step closer, the shift in the air. Robyn moved into his peripheral vision, hands clasped behind her back as she leaned in to inspect his handiwork.

He tightened the last screw and sat back on his heels, lifting his gaze to hers.

Robyn was close enough that he could see the tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose. The warmth of her filled the space between them like a living thing.

Tyler pushed to his feet, slow.

Neither of them stepped back.

The air felt charged, as if the whole bookstore had narrowed down to this one aisle, this one breath, this one second where Tyler’s instincts were screaming at him to do the smart thing.

Then Robyn’s hands—almost as if she didn’t realize she was doing it—settled at his waist.

That was his undoing.

Tyler lifted his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks with a gentleness that didn’t match the force of what he felt. His thumbs brushed the edge of her jaw as he leaned in and took her mouth with his.

He thought it would be tentative.

It wasn’t.

The kiss hit like a lightning strike—hot and immediate, like their bodies had been waiting for permission. Robyn made a small sound against his mouth and fisted his shirt, rising onto her toes.

Tyler’s hands slid from her cheeks to her waist, pulling her in until there wasn’t space for doubt. He turned them instinctively, guiding her back until her shoulders met the bookshelf. Not hard, just firm enough to hold her there, as if the whole world might try to steal her away if he let go.