Zach would have known exactly how annoyed Liam had felt when he’d looked out of his window and seen a beautiful woman pacing barefoot in heavily falling snow. Snow was not something to be trifled with. This time of year, people ought to be careful, and he knew that more than most.
She’d checked her door handle multiple times, then peered through the windows. And while he didn’t know her personally, he could tell she was the type who’d try to break into her own shop just to avoid asking for help.
So, he’d sighed, tugged on his boots and flannel jacket, and made his way outside.
And now, introductions over, she was beaming back at him like he was the angel Gabriel.
This woman was gorgeous—too gorgeous, in fact, for a man trying very hard not to notice things like the fullness of her lips or the red polish on her toes.
But he was no angel, not this time of year. He did not smile back.
“You alright?” His voice came out low and rough, with a barely masked touch of frustration.
She nodded, her smile slipping, mug clutched to her chest in a defensive pose. “Totally fine. Just… bonding with my door.”
“Is that so?” He huffed a laugh despite himself, which only annoyed him more.
She was flustered, trying so hard to pretend she had everything under control. But her lip quirked, and she looked to be one sarcastic comment away from either laughing or crying, and his frustration cracked just a bit.
“I’m guessing you’re locked out?” he asked.
“Yes. But it’s fine. I was just about to scale that drainpipe,” she said, pointing at it confidently, then squinting up. “Okay, maybe not. But it did seem like a viable option five seconds ago.” She lifted her mug. “Hot cocoa is a gateway beverage to all sorts of poor decisions.”
“Going out barefoot in the snow being one of them?” He raised an eyebrow.
She glanced down at her feet and wiggled her toes with a wince. “It would appear so. Don’t suppose you have a magical spare key?”
“Rita didn’t mention one?”
“Not that I remember. And if she did, I have no idea where it’d be.” She glanced toward the shop’s front door. “Maybe there’s a flowerpot or a fake rock or something?”
“Something like that,” he said, already walking. He motioned for her to follow him around the side of the building, where the gutter met the curb. He bent down, peeled a small magnetic key box off the back of the downspout, and handed it over.
“Rita had a tendency to lock herself out too,” he added as an explanation.
“Kindred spirit,” she said with a smile.
They made their way back to the front door and Liam watched her turn the key, saw the tension drain from her shoulders when the lock clicked open. She turned to him, snowflakes in her hair, chocolate still on her cheek, and she looked so happy. Bright. Full of hope.
It was the kind of hope he hadn’t let himself feel in years—four years, to be exact. He should have walked away then, should have left once he saw she was safely back inside. But he didn’t. Because when her eyes met his, something sharp and hot cut through the layers he’d built around his heart, leaving him exposed in a way he hadn’t expected.
It wasn’t just attraction. It was gravity. The kind that pulled a man down and made him forget his better judgment.
And the worst part was, a reckless part of him—buried deep and aching—wanted her to keep going. To tear through every last wall until there was nothing left to hide behind.
THREE
CASSIDY
Monday, December 1st
“It’s showtime,” Cassidy told herself while instinctively reaching for her grand-maman’s gold locket around her neck. “Wish you could see this,” she added before adjusting her braids and taking a calming breath.
It was Monday morning, and she was ready. In the last few weeks she’d posted about the grand opening on the Maple Falls community board, pinned a flyer outside the hardware store, and run a promotion on the shop’s brand-new social media page, offering a free hot spiced cocoa to the first ten customers. She’d even practiced saying, “Welcome to the Cocoa Corner,” in the mirror.
Before her nerves could get the best of her, she marched to the front door and flipped the sign to “Open.” She refused to acknowledge her trembling hands.
Snowflakes sparkled like glitter in the sunlight outside the shop’s giant floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the early December morning was dusted in frost, and just across the street, she could see Liam’s farm shop with its wood crates stacked neatly out front.
