Page 44 of Not Until I Found You

We both grin, the tension between us eases a fraction, especially as we turn and watch Sven jumping and nipping at the air, chasing a wasp away. As we make our way back down the trail, Zane’s presence brushes close enough to make my skin tingle. Every now and then, our shoulders nearly bump, and neither of us bothers to create more space. It’s a small thing, but I find myself secretly hoping the trail never widens enough for us to drift apart.

Before we know it, the cabins appear ahead of us. There’s a flutter of anticipation flowing through me, knowing the evening is about to end. When we reach my front porch, I drop my pack onto the first step with a soft thud, and Zane lets out a low whistle.

“Well, we didn’t have to wrestle a bear today, so I’d say this was a successful hiking experience.” He chuckles, though I can’t ignore the subtle weight in it, like he, too, might be reluctant to break our time together.

I glance up at him. “Yeah…it was.”

He rubs the back of his neck, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but then he changes his mind before trying again. “Can I have your phone number?”

I raise a brow. “Yeah, sure.”

“In case you need me for anything. You know, while you’re here,” he adds quickly.

I pull my phone from my pocket and hand it to him. His fingers tap a few times before he hands it back to me. I look down and see that he’s saved his number into my phone and sent himself a message so that he can have my number too. A wide grin spreads across my face.

“Thank you. For today,” I tell him.

“You too.” He steps past me toward his cabin. “Good night, Butterfly.”

He turns around, and I watch as he and Sven disappear into his home. I glance down at his contact in my phone, my chest feeling strangely full. Covewood is supposed to be a temporary stop in my life, but the longer I’m around Zane, the harder it is to remember that.

Chapter Eleven

Zane

“This,” Olivia declares with a wave, “is my official summer-menu taste-testing day, and y’all should feel honored to have been selected.” She gazes proudly at the assortment of cakes and cookies placed neatly across her table.

Sunlight pours through the open kitchen windows of Olivia’s little bungalow, heating the already crowded space, making the whole room a few degrees too hot. The air is thick with sugar, lemon zest, and fresh coffee—sweet enough to make my teeth ache before we even dive into the taste testing. Even Olivia’s spoiled cat, Buttercream, has picked up on the opportunity. She’s camped beneath the table, patiently waiting for a crumb to fall.

“We should feel nervous.” Wren reaches for a cookie, but Olivia swats her hand away. “Last time you experimented, Edna almost started a riot over blackberry frosting.”

“That frosting was delicious,” Edna argues from across the table.

Luke chuckles into his coffee while I lean back in my chair, eyeing the lineup in front of us.

Olivia’s tiny kitchen table is so overloaded with baked goods there’s barely any room left for our elbows. Honey-lavender sugar cookies sit beside elderflower shortbread dusted in powdered sugar. Mini lemon cakes glossed with glaze, one lavender, one blueberry, and a plate of thumbprint cookies filled with homemade jam sits dangerously close to Edna’s side of the table.

She’s stolen three already.

Olivia places both hands on her hips. “Alright, everyone has to try everything before you can give your opinion.”

“I already have an opinion.” I eye the lavender cookies with disgust. “Lavender belongs in soap. Not desserts.”

Wren gasps dramatically. “You uncultured swine.”

“I’m serious,” I tell her. “Flowers shouldn’t be a dessert flavor.”

“Then how do you explain the core ingredient? You can’t make these without flour,” Edna snaps.

“Eddy, he meant actual flowers,” Olivia laughs.

Edna waves her off, and when she thinks no one is looking, she slides three thumbprint cookies into her lap.

“I can literally see you stealing cookies,” Luke says.

“These are for later.”

“You said that about the deviled eggs at the cookout the other day.”