Page 33 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

Robyn was a planner. She liked lists and timelines and the comforting click of a plan coming together the way it was supposed to. Maple Falls, apparently, had a personal vendetta against her Type A brain. The locals seemed ingrained with a go-with-the-flow attitude.

Four hours later, Robyn was behind the counter with a half-eaten slice of pie, her to-do list already in ruins, and her nerves no calmer than when Mr. Darcy had woken her.

She glanced over at Tyler. He was working in the front window, sleeves pushed up and his mouth set in concentration. He’d found a set of paint markers meant for glass—the washable, chalk-style ones store owners used for seasonal décor—and he was using them with the ease of a natural-born artist. The window had transformed into a blustery autumn scene with swirling leaves blown sideways on an imaginary wind, a cozy stack of books at the bottom, and a tiny candle drawn near the spine of one title, its flame a soft golden flick.

It was… beautiful.

It also made her a little emotional in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

Tyler capped the marker and then leaned back to assess his work. “Don’t worry,” he said without turning, somehow knowing she was staring. “I’ve kept the dragons to a minimum this time.”

Robyn tried to laugh.

“Hey.” Tyler finally looked at her, and his expression shifted in an instant from easy teasing to attentive. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Robyn lied automatically, flipping open the nearest book on the counter.

Tyler came around the counter and stopped beside her.

The store was empty—a rare lull—and she felt overly aware of the soft hum of the lights and the faint scent of pumpkin pie.

She stared at the page, but the words kept swimming. His hand hovered near her elbow—not quite touching.

Her shoulders were still up around her ears, her breathing shallow.

“Robyn.”

She swallowed. “I know. I’m being foolish.”

“You’re not.” His tone was steady. “There’s a lot going on.”

Robyn barely nodded.

He rested his fingertips lightly on her arm. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll find the next clue soon enough,” he said in that low, unhurried way of his. “Your great-grandmother wouldn’t make it impossible. She wanted someone to piece together her story.”

Robyn’s eyes stung. She blinked hard and kept her gaze on the book. “You’re right, I know that. I just… This bookshop means a lot to me. And Elsie’s right, perhaps this Midnight in Maple Falls event is our opportunity to save the store, if we can get it into the hands of the right person. It’s a big deal. And I hate not having everything lined up, feeling so unprepared and last-minute. It frazzles me.”

Tyler’s thumb brushed over her wrist. She looked up then, and something in his face relaxed. He leaned in, the movement tender. Robyn’s body answered, meeting him halfway in a kiss, needing the contact more than she’d realized.

Tyler deepened their connection. His hand slid to her waist, steadying her.

When she pulled back minutes later, her cheeks were warm, and her heart was thrumming pleasantly.

She blinked at him. “Okay,” she said, finding her voice again. “We should probably stop before I do something unhinged, like drag you to the back room.”

Tyler’s brows lifted. The look he gave her—part amusement, part heat—made her stomach flip.

Robyn swallowed. “Maybe after hours,” she managed, trying for breezy and landing somewhere between flirtation and a promise.

Tyler’s gaze held hers, and she knew that he was thinking the same thing she was.

He wanted to explore her, learn her, undo her just like she wanted to do to him.

The back room wasn’t much—just a small sofa that had survived a decade of staff lunches and late-night inventory. But in her mind, it turned into something else entirely.

As they stood behind the counter, her imagination carried her to the back room, like a spell whisking her away. The door swung shut behind them, the click of the latch loud in the quiet store. Her hand fisted in the front of his sweater as she walked him backward. Tyler’s eyes never left hers.

She pushed him back until the backs of his legs brushed the cushion. “Sit,” she told him, and the word came out steadier than she felt. It was as if she’d commanded him a thousand times.