Falling in Vermont (Cozy Nights in Vermont #2)

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

SOPHIA

L o-fi beats pumped through Sophia’s headphones as she stared at a blank piece of paper in the dining room of the Clovely Inn.

Who knew that writing the introduction to a cookbook would be the hardest part she’d faced thus far in her scramble to get it finished?

The first two introductions she’d written had been easy. They’d been about her initial fan base, then about the launch of the first cookbook. This was maybe the last cookbook she’d ever do, and she felt the weight of responsibility in each of the empty lines on her notebook page.

Should she talk about her parents? Her grandmother? Her sister? Her trusty enamel pot? Should she convince the publisher to skip it, because who even read the introduction in a cookbook anyway?

She nibbled on her salad as she made a word cloud, starting with her loved ones. Her pencil decided to write the words Star and Blake , which then turned into writing “I heart Blake.”

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. It’s just a casual dating thing.

She had to rip the whole page out and start all over again.

Get your head in the game. The first two cookbooks had been labors of love, and for some reason, this one had felt like pulling teeth.

Maybe because it didn’t feel true.

She wasn’t normally surrounded by end-of-season fresh vegetables in a farmhouse or a gorgeous restored inn. She never surrounded herself with flannel and pumpkins and chilly morning walks. She usually sat in her condo, staring at a screen in five-second increments as she swiped, trying to get content ideas.

She felt like she actually had lived for the first time in years, being away from the grind of content creation.

She’d broken her rule and posted a silly video with Star enjoying her pumpkin treats. She’d decided to use it as engagement bait for pre-ordering her cookbook that would include the recipe.

She logged in once she got on the inn’s Wi-Fi to check the comments as a guilty pleasure, and of course, they were all abuzz after her first post in weeks (aka a lifetime online).

Soooo cute.

Was that your dog?

They couldn’t wait to try the recipe.

Was she alive?

They missed her.

And then there was always the alternate side:

Why does she think she’s so special?

That dog looks purebred. You should adopt, not shop.

That could kill the dog, you have to list all the ingredients.

Never feed your dogs pumpkin.

No, pumpkins are good for dogs.

This one time, my dog ate pumpkin…

“Neeeevermind.” She’d forgotten how much brain space all those opinions took up. She promptly closed the web page and opened up her notebook instead.

Maybe I’ll work on photos.

Her recipes would be photographed in a professional studio, but the editors liked mixing in her personal photos too. It added a layer of authenticity that her audience appreciated. As she waited for her phone and computer to sync with the Wi-Fi, she finished the fresh autumn salad she’d ordered.

Roasted sweet potatoes had a touch of heat and cinnamon, and they contrasted with the fresh greens, pecans, and savory gorgonzola cheese.

Cheese , she sighed, savoring the creamy, sharp bite of it. She could probably do an entire cookbook dedication just to the dairy available in the state of Vermont. I’m pretty sure they’ve outlawed processed American cheese slices at the border.

She closed her eyes, savoring the interesting contrast with a bit of apple and pecan.

“It looks like you’re having a moment,” Beverly said, laughing and wiping her hands on her apron.

“This tastes unreal,” Sophia said, pointing to the salad. “Bits of fennel layered in? I would have never thought to do that.”

“It’s nothing compared to what I’ve been hearing about that you’ve been serving. You all have made quite an impression on Clovely this year,” Bev said, sitting down beside her at the four-top. The dining room had quieted down that afternoon as all the tourists were out seeing the leaves. “My kitchen staff raved about your cheddar and sage biscuits. The new server said I should try to copy your recipe before I explained to him that’s not how this works,” she said with a laugh.

Sophia grabbed her phone. “Here, let me write it down for you.”

“Oh you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s my pleasure. Honestly,” Sophia said, jotting out the recipe from memory. “And interestingly, the one with the half cheddar, half pepper jack cheese was the winner. It’s been so fun to actually see people eat what I’m making. Get their feedback, see what they like, see the stories behind it. Food has so much emotion.”

And then it struck her. That was what she had to write about—all of the emotions and memories she associated with each of the recipes. She’d need several pages to talk about how much she’d treasured her time here.

“I've loved being here. There’s nothing like a pumpkin farm in the fall.” Or a very hot, very sexily capable farmer . “I’m supposed to leave in a few weeks, which feels too soon.” She sighed and fiddled with her salad.

Beverly nodded. “Where are you off to next?”

“Uh,” Sophia faltered, not mentally ready to move on from her life as it was right now. “My sister’s apartment for the holidays. Then eventually, back to Dallas.”

God. It filled her entire body with dread just thinking about it.

Beverly patted her hand. “We’ll miss you here, and I hope you'll come back anytime. We’ve never seen Blake happier,” Beverly said with a sad smile.

Sophia’s heart dropped at the thought of leaving. She bit her lip, unable to speak. Too many thoughts crashed in her head at once.

Do I really have to leave? Why go back to a city that doesn’t fit anymore? What if when I move here, everything goes sour with Blake ?

Wait. When she moved here? When had her brain jumped the tracks to moving here?

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Beverly said, looking over Sophia’s shoulder at the handsome man filling the dining room doorway.

Blake wore a dress shirt that hugged his muscles and jeans that hung perfectly on him.

His face lit up when he clocked them just staring back at him, and it gave her goosebumps. Goosebumps . Who even was she anymore?

“Thought I’d find you here,” he said.

Beverly slapped the table and moved to stand. “I’ll leave you to it.” She patted Blake on the shoulder as she walked back to the kitchen.

“Are you coming to have a very late lunch with me?” Sophia gestured to an empty seat.

“Nope, you’re coming with me.”

“Ooh, surprises,” she said, wiggling her shoulders in excitement. She shoved her things in her canvas tote bag, happy to have a distraction from her work. “Is it a sexy surprise?” she whispered, getting up, and his eyes simmered with unspoken heat as he looked down at her.

“No,” he murmured, his eyes on her lips. “It’s a long overdue token of my appreciation. Here, let me take that.” He grabbed her heavy tote bag and offered her his hand as they walked through the lobby.

“Damn,” she said, turning to the door. “I was really hoping it would be a sexy surprise.”

They walked slowly down Clovely’s Main Street. As they crossed each street, he’d quietly step in between her and the road.

She shook her head as she bit back giddiness. It was an old, silly, leftover custom of gentlemanly manners, but damn if it didn’t make her insides flutter.

They passed the general store where she’d found the best maple syrup she’d ever had in her entire life, as well as an odd assortment of home goods. It was rare to find beeswax candles, apples, and bear spray all in one convenient location, but Roy’s Hardware Store seemed to have its finger on the pulse on the heartbeat of the town.

Leaves blew in the chilly wind, and purple and yellow mums lined the streets. Each of the businesses had gone all out for the local Main Street decorating competition. A few Halloween decorations were spotted here and there, but this town seemed to linger in the dreaminess of autumn.

“Have you been to Bookslingers?” He hefted her tote bag onto his shoulder, completely unfazed by holding the neon pink bag covered in flowers.

She bit her lip, finding that oddly sexy. “Not yet. I’ve just been running between every business that sells groceries and the farm.”

“Come on, I wanted to show you something.”

There was a puddle at the crossing point, and he held her hand out so she could jump over it. She was getting too used to having somebody there with her, one step ahead of her.

She felt a dangerous tug on her heart, huddling against him as the wind blew.

The clang of the antique bell on the door sounded, and that magical musty smell of a used bookstore mingled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and a fireplace somewhere in the back.

Thick, deep chairs were scootched this way and that into corners, and small children played at a toy area in the corner while some townies wandered through.

A young woman with teal highlights turned from the register with a smile.

“Hey, Abby,” Blake said with a wave. “This is Sophia.”

“I am such a fan.” Abby fanned her hands in excitement. “I’ve watched all of your videos. I’m obsessed, truly. You are entirely the reason I purchased brand-new spices after mine had been lingering for a decade in my cabinet.”

Sophia lit up as she pulled Abby in for a quick hug. “Oh, wow, it’s nice to meet you. I don’t get to talk to many people that follow my content in real life.”

“I haven’t had a chance to get out to the patch yet, but I’ve been hearing amazing things about all of your recipes that are going into your new cookbook. In fact…” Abby waggled her eyebrows at Blake. “Come with me.”

They followed her through the store up to the front where special books were on display. Sophia gasped as she spotted a large stack of her first book, New Italian Comfort . Her cookbook was rarely sold in small bookstores, since she wasn’t famous or anything.

“What is this?” She glanced at Blake, who was beaming.

“I asked Abby if she would do me a favor and order lots of copies so I could try to pay back all of the kindness that you’ve done for us since you’ve been here.”

Several dozen copies sat underneath and on top of a large oak table with a small, handwritten sign that said “Local(ish) Author.”

She’d never found her book in a bookstore outside of the one signing her publisher had set up. For the first six months after her first cookbook had come out, Sophia had always looked anytime she’d been in a bookstore. But shelf space was limited in most stores, and her cookbook was one of thousands. She was just an influencer, and a small one at that.

She’d never stumbled upon it like this.

She was gobsmacked and had to take a quick photo—not for posting, but just for herself. Just to savor the moment of being appreciated and seen.

“They just came in yesterday, and I sold three this morning,” Abby said with a smile.

“I’m taking five,” Blake said, piling them into his hands.

“Do you want to sign some?” Abby’s hopeful smile was contagious. “Let me get a Sharpie.”

Sophia turned to Blake, who had his arms full of the heavy cookbooks. “You don’t even cook. There’s no recipe for a protein powder shake in there.”

He shrugged. “Maybe there should be. Do you think there’s a rustic fall protein shake recipe you should add into your next one?”

She bumped his hip with hers. “You’ll know I have been lobotomized if you ever see that in my cookbook. Blake…” She laid a hand on his arm. “This was very nice.”

“You wouldn’t take my check, and I know that your social media thing is paused. I just wanted to show you how much, um—” He cleared his throat. “How much we all care about you. How much I …” he faltered.

“Here you go,” Abby interrupted brightly, coming back with two Sharpies. “Let me grab a pile and you can sit down in that comfy chair and sign your little heart away.”

As Abby gathered up books and walked them to the chair, Blake’s unspoken words lingered in the air. Their eyes connected; it would be so, so easy to get lost in his gaze.

“I’ll meet you at the front, Abby.” Blake grabbed one more book and walked to the register.

Sophia settled into the overstuffed armchair with fifteen heavy books and closed her eyes, savoring this moment. She was signing her books in a cozy little bookstore on a perfect autumn day, just the way she’d always dreamed about.

She soaked in the moment as she lovingly signed her name with an XOXO in big swoops on the page.

She and Blake carried the signed copies back to the display table, and Abby put up a “Signed by the Author” placard in front of her books.

Abby fussed over the display, trying to make it perfect. “Blake said your second cookbook is coming out in a few months. Do you want to schedule a signing? We’d love to do something here for you.”

“I’ve been waiting for almost a year for it to come out. Sure,” Sophia said without thinking.

Wait . Sophia looked up at Blake, and her mind froze.

“Uhh, well, maybe. Let’s just see how things go,” Sophia said noncommittally. “Though I guess I can always come back and visit,” she said quickly to Blake. “I mean, they have trains and cars and planes to Vermont, right?”

“Okay, let me know and we can set something up. I’ll ring you up when you’re ready,” Abby said, gesturing at Blake to come with her to the checkout counter.

“Sorry,” he said quietly to Sophia as they were walking out, “I hope that didn’t make you uncomfortable. I’d mentioned the idea to Abby and I just…didn’t think.”

“It’s fine,” Sophia said, squeezing his arm and trying to wave away the awkwardness. “It’s easy to forget that I’ll be gone in a couple weeks.”

He was quiet for a few moments before he finally cleared his throat. “Not so much for some of us.”

Her stomach dropped, and she hated seeing that sadness in his eyes. She slyly smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood. “Is Star taking the news poorly?”

“She was inconsolable,” Blake said with a dry smile. “She specifically requested at least one container full of Pumpkin Treat-o’s before you leave.”

“As if I would leave her anything less,” she said with a smile, feeling like she was on even ground with him again.

They stopped at the end of the street. The sun had set while they were in the bookstore. His hair caught in the breeze, and she wanted to kiss him so badly. Wrap her arms around him and live in the scent of ivory soap and woodsmoke and crisp air forever.

“I was wondering if an early dinner might be included in roommates with benefits?” she asked. An old log cabin that looked like it’d been turned into a restaurant was across the street.

With only two weeks left, she needed to maximize every minute with him.

That wasn’t any more of a date than anything else they’d done, right?

“Only if my roommate likes to split dessert,” he said, wrapping an arm around her as they walked toward the restaurant.