Page 98 of The Sugar Maple Inn

“That’s not ominous at all.”

Reese smiled, eyes on the road. “Trust me?”

And for a second, he thought she might actually say no. But then she gave this small, nervous laugh and looked out the window instead. That was Grace: cautious heart, brave face.

They drove through Solace Springs in easy silence. The town rolled by in its autumn best, maples burning red, gold leaves spilling across the road. Grace watched it all with the faintest smile, and Reese stole glances when she wasn’t looking.

“You really flew back,” she said finally, breaking the silence. “From Cuba. Because I didn’t text you back?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s insane.”

“Probably.” He tightened his grip on the wheel. “I know what this looks like. Some rich guy overdoing it because he can. But that’s not…” He paused, finding the right words. “When you didn’t respond, I thought I’d already screwed it up. And I needed to know you were okay. That we were okay.”

Her head turned, eyes soft. “I wasn’t trying to punish you. I just…got in my head. Started thinking about all the reasons why this is a terrible idea.”

“And?”

“And I came up with about a million.”

He couldn’t help the grin. “I can probably match you reason for reason, if it helps.”

“You’re the one with doubts?”

“Grace, you’re terrifying.”

“I’m terrifying? You’re the goddamn billionaire.”

“Yeah, and you dumped food on me, have called me an arrogant asshole and didn’t blink while doing it. Most people flinch when I walk into a room. You looked at me like I was a parking violation. Do you have any idea how rare that is?” he said quietly. “How refreshing?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, just turned off onto the smaller dirt road he’d memorized from the map Erika had sent over. The tires crunched over gravel, the trees parted and the view opened up. The old barn had been transformed into something out of a Visit Britain ad…if Visit Britain came with mood lighting and Reese Spencer’s credit card.

Fairy lights draped from the rafters, the air thick with the smell of roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, and gravy that could’ve converted a vegetarian. A battered sign over the entrance read The Maple & Crown in curling gold paint, and beside it stood the pièce de résistance: an actual red phone box, complete with rain-speckled glass and a faded Mind the Step sticker.

Grace’s eyes widened as she took it all in. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Reese smiled, coming around to open her door. “You said you wanted to see the UK countryside in autumn. Closest I could plan in twelve hours.”

Her eyes widened, darting from the twinkling fairy lights to the phone box to the little pub scene as they stepped inside. There was an actual bar stocked with British beer, hand-pulled cask pumps and a blackboard listing Sunday Roast: £Free with Charm.

Behind it stood a gray-haired man in an apron polishing a pint glass. A soccer match played on a small wall-mounted TV in the corner, muted but recognizable: Zach’s favorite team, Chelsea, by the look of it.

Grace turned in a slow circle, shaking her head. “You did all this?”

“Technically,” Reese said, “I had help. I’m told that’s a proper British pub carpet, by the way.”

Grace looked down at the swirling red-and-green monstrosity underfoot and burst out laughing. “It’s hideous.”

“Apparently, that’s the point.”

They were shown to a small table by the fire. The plates arrived steaming: golden roast potatoes, beef so tender it practically apologized when the fork touched it, and a mountain of sticky toffee pudding waiting for dessert.

Grace moaned softly after her first bite. “Oh my God. This might actually be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Reese grinned into his pint of bitter. “Told you. The British may not do sunshine, but they’ve nailed comfort food.”

“You even got the smell right,” she said, glancing around. “Old wood, beer, someone’s damp dog.”