Page 14 of The Sugar Maple Inn

Grace felt something warm spread through her chest. Her son really had been paying attention all those times she’d fought the small fights.

Mabel looked between her daughter and grandson, clearly realizing she was outnumbered. Her face cycled through several emotions before settling on something that looked almost like defeat.

“Fine,” she said, her voice tight. “Fine. You want to throw your life away? Go ahead. But don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

She turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving Grace standing there with the uncomfortable knowledge that she might have just burned several bridges at once.

But Zach just bumped her shoulder with his. “Don’t worry about Grandma. She’ll come around. She always does.”

Grace wasn’t so sure about that, but with her son’s support and with Reese Spencer still watching her every move, the fire flickering in Grace’s belly suddenly roared to life. Her son—her too-cool-for-school son—was proud of her.

She turned to face Reese, crossing her arms and meeting his calculating gaze head-on. “See you tomorrow then,” she said, her voice steady and sure for the first time all evening.

If Reese Spencer wanted a competition, he was about to get one.

Six

Reese

Reese’s Porsche Cayenne handled the winding lake roads like it was built for them, and he used the speed to work off the restless energy that had been building since he’d watched Grace’s son defend her in front of half the town.

The kid had stood there in the middle of a family meltdown, black eye and all, daring the world to underestimate his mother. Reese recognized it instantly. He’d been that kid once: angry, stubborn, throwing himself in front of trouble because someone had to protect his mom when his dad wasn’t around. That kind of loyalty made a woman dangerous competition. Having a kid believe in you like that? It was a force multiplier.

The road climbed higher into the hills surrounding Solace Lake, and Reese pressed the gas harder than he needed to. The familiar rush of speed helped settle something in his chest, the same restless energy that had driven him to take bigger and bigger risks in business. Most people called it ambition. His doctor back in Vancouver had suggested it might be something that could be managed with medication, but that wasn’t for Reese. He preferred natural remedies.

The rational move would’ve been to point the car toward Seattle, where an old girlfriend and hot-shot lawyer Sasha Slater lived. Smart, accomplished, beautiful. She’d all but laid out the itinerary: late dinner at Canlis, drinks back at her condo, a night that ended in her silk sheets. Easy. Safe. No complications.

But something kept him on the lake road instead of turning toward the highway. Something about this place, about tomorrow’s meeting with the Blackwells, about the way Grace Sullivan had looked when she’d declared her intention to fight for that inn.

The image rose uninvited: her hair catching the autumn evening light, those long legs braced as she shouldered through the crowd, her son looking at her like she hung the damn moon. He imagined doing something reckless and driving to her place if he could find out where it was, telling her to take the inn, letting it all drop so she’d fall into his arms. Her body pressed against his, her mouth hot on his neck, kisses scattered wherever she wanted to put them. The thought tightened his grip on the wheel.

Damn it, no! He needed that inn. He needed to stop letting his desire do the thinking. Needed to force those hot thoughts to safer ground. Safer ground like his online mentee, AutumnDreams87. The one person he could spill his brain to without consequence.

On impulse, Reese pulled into the overlook halfway up the ridge. Solace Lake spread out below him like black glass. The inn was invisible in the darkness, but he knew it was out there, holding whatever secrets his dad had taken to the grave.

He opened up the Reddit app and went to his inbox.

WildTrailGuide: You up?

AutumnDreams87: I am. Slightly drunk.

WildTrailGuide: Drunk, eh? You come up with any ideas to beat this garden-center queen while half-cut?

AutumnDreams87: Actually yes. I went to a thing tonight. Made sure the right people saw me being all community minded. She was there too. Looking all out of place.

WildTrailGuide: Good. That’s exactly what you should be doing. You’re already winning where it counts.

AutumnDreams87: Maybe. But here’s the thing I can’t figure out. Why does she even want it? The garden center, I mean. He’s clearly not local. Doesn’t know anything about the business. What’s the angle?

WildTrailGuide: He?

AutumnDreams87: SHE. Sorry, I mistyped.

WildTrailGuide: Could be anything. Investment angle. Tax write-off. Some folks with cash just buy stuff cause they can.

AutumnDreams87: That’s so depressing.

Reese paused, looking out at the island. At the inn’s tower, just about viewable under the moonlight, peeking above those maple trees. He thought of something buried out there. Something that mattered to his dad. To the Spencer family.