Page 5 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

“Pumpkin pie?”

Robyn had magically appeared at his elbow, holding a small plate in one hand and a fork in the other.

Tyler’s eyes caught on her jeans first—then her navy sweater, then the coppery highlights in her hair that looked almost golden under the warm shop lights. He forced himself to blink like a normal human.

“It was the last slice,” she said. “I figured we could share it.”

“Sure,” he said, like it wasn’t the easiest yes of his life.

Robyn led him to the café area in the back corner of the shop. An oversized window was on each side, letting in plenty of fall sunshine and views of Bear Lake through the maple trees beyond.

Meg had set up a complimentary coffee station along the back wall to accompany the daily pie delivery from Emily’s bakery, naming the space the pumpkin pie book nook. What had started as a pop-up had turned into a full-time arrangement, with Emily dropping off fresh pumpkin pie every morning.

Robyn perched on the cushioned bench, a café table between them, and angled toward him. He sat opposite her on a wooden chair and suddenly had no idea where to put his hands.

Robyn took the first bite and sighed.

“Okay,” she said, eyes bright. “This is criminal. How is pie this good?”

Tyler’s mouth twitched. “Emily has a gift.” He lifted his fork.

Robyn glanced at the display table just outside the café. “I see you put your dragon book back on top. Classic Tyler move.”

He followed her gaze. That morning he’d arranged spooky classics, witchy romances, small-town fall reads—and then, just to mess with her, slipped a hefty fantasy tome on top like a sleeping dragon guarding the pile.

“Dragons are essential,” he said solemnly. “And they deserve to guard the best literature.”

“So that’s why this dragon is hiding our classics?”

“Maybe it shares your weird obsession with Wuthering Heights.”

“Just because you hate romances…”

“Wuthering Heights isn’t a romance! It’s…” Tyler shook his head, words failing him. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll have you know Wuthering Heights is a masterpiece! Millions of people adore it.”

“They’re also delusional. Heathcliff and Cathy are two of the most selfish, toxic, morally corrupt characters English literature has ever known.”

Robyn rolled her eyes. “What, and dragons are saints?”

Robyn leaned forward to take another bite, and cinnamon crumble from the crust caught at the corner of her mouth. It was barely there, just a few sprinkles against her bottom lip.

Tyler tried to ignore it. But once he saw it, he couldn’t not see it.

Before he could think better of it, he lifted his hand.

“Hang on,” he murmured. “You missed⁠—”

His thumb brushed the crumb away, skimming across her lip and the soft warmth of her skin.

Robyn’s breath stilled. Tyler’s entire body went taut.

He should’ve dropped his hand. Should’ve apologized. But instead, her gaze flicked to his mouth, and suddenly the air felt like it would right before lightning, electrons dancing in the air, waiting to collide.

Tyler’s palm slid into the curve of her cheek, cradling it like it belonged there. Like he’d done it a hundred times.

Robyn leaned in a fraction, her eyes lifting to his.