Page 26 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

Robyn’s eyes fluttered shut on instinct.

Then he kissed her again, a fraction lower, just behind her ear, and Robyn’s whole body went warm like someone had turned the heat on inside her.

She turned in his arms, shifting clumsily on the couch until she was facing him. The blanket slid, their knees bumped, and Tyler steadied her with a hand at her waist.

For a second they just looked at each other.

Then Robyn closed the distance.

The kiss started soft, sweet, careful. Then Tyler’s hand slid up her back, and her breath hitched. Suddenly, it was harder to remember why they were supposed to be taking things slow.

She kissed him again, urgent this time; her hands couldn’t pull him close enough.

Tyler answered with a quiet sound that made her stomach flip, and he tipped his head, deepening it, patient and hungry all at once.

The movie kept playing, forgotten.

Robyn pulled back first, forehead brushing his. Her cheeks were hot. Her heart was racing at a very uneven tempo.

Tyler’s eyes searched hers. “You okay?”

Robyn huffed a laugh, still catching her breath. “I’m… very okay.”

“Good.” He kissed her once more, quick and tender, then pulled her back against his chest and held her there. She could feel the effort in it. His breath was still uneven, and his arm tightened around her just a fraction too much. He was holding on and holding back at the same time.

Robyn resettled, her head finding that same spot on his chest. Tyler pulled the blanket up again, and his hand rested back on her waist.

On screen, someone declared love in a crowded airport. Robyn’s eyes were getting heavy, but she wasn’t thinking about the movie anymore. She was thinking about his hand on her waist, and how little it would take for her to guide it somewhere else.

TWELVE

TYLER

There was a woman asleep on his couch, and Tyler couldn’t stop smiling.

The house was still, quiet in the way that only existed before the day began—before the coffee maker beeped, before Emma’s feet padded across the hallway. Outside the kitchen window, the sunrise had turned Maple Falls into watercolor: a soft wash of purple with thin streaks of gold breaking through like the sky was cracking open.

He stood at the counter with a mug in hand and glanced toward the living room. Robyn was asleep on the couch, curled under the throw blanket. Her hair had slipped loose, spilling across the pillow, and her face looked softer in sleep—less guarded. Less like she was always thinking two steps ahead.

Tyler should’ve woken her the minute he’d noticed the time. He should’ve been practical. He had thirty minutes before he had to get Emma up for school, and his sleepy eight-year-old didn’t need to walk downstairs and find Robyn on his couch. Not yet. Not when he hadn’t even figured out how to explain it without making it feel too big or too complicated.

But he hadn’t moved.

He’d just stood there for a few seconds, watching her breathe, feeling protective in a way that surprised him. Like the universe had dropped something precious into his living room and he’d been told, very clearly, not to mishandle it.

He poured coffee anyway—quietly, carefully—then grabbed a second mug. His favorite one, the one he’d used since college.

Tyler crossed the room, the floorboards barely creaking beneath his socks. He stopped beside the couch and looked down at her, his mouth curving.

She looked so peaceful. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Robyn stirred immediately, blinking. Her gaze landed on him and went wide.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, pushing up on one elbow. Her voice was raspy with sleep. “Tyler. I… I fell asleep.”

“You did,” he said gently, holding out the mug. “But you also looked like you needed it.”