Page 104 of The Sugar Maple Inn

Recognition flickered across the woman’s face. “Oh. You’re Reese Spencer. We haven’t formally met. I’m Victoria Warren, from Solace Springs.”

He knew that name. The richest person in town, according to his research. Owned several restaurants. Sat on multiple committees.

“What did you say to her?” Reese repeated, his voice hard.

Victoria’s expression shifted, something that might have been guilt if it wasn’t wrapped in defensiveness. “I had no idea she didn’t know. I genuinely thought you two had discussed it.”

“Discussed what?”

“Your plans for the inn. The demolition permits. The excavation.” Victoria pulled out her phone. “Your assistant reached out to me last week. I’m on the development committee, so she needed my approval for—”

“Show me.”

Victoria hesitated, then handed over her phone.

Reese read the email. Felt his stomach drop with each word.

Demolition. Excavation. Historical Spencer family artifacts.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Grace clearly didn’t know,” Victoria said quietly. “About any of it. I showed her this email and she just…she looked devastated. I really am sorry. I assumed—”

“You assumed wrong.” Reese shoved the phone back at her, his mind racing. “I never said I wanted to tear the place down.”

But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t entirely true. It had been an option. One option among many that his team had explored. It was due diligence. Business planning. Exploring all possible angles. But he’d never decided anything. Had never told Erika to move forward with permits.

Except apparently Erika had got the ball rolling. She’d seen it as a viable option and taken initiative, the way she always did, and now everything was ruined, thanks to her.

No.

Reese stopped that thought in its tracks. He couldn’t blame Erika for this. She was doing her job. She didn’t know about Grace, didn’t know that the inn meant something different now, didn’t know that Reese had been considering…what? Letting Grace have it? Sharing it somehow? He hadn’t even figured that out himself yet.

He should have told Grace from the start. Should have been honest about his family’s history with the property, about the options his team was exploring, about all of it. Instead, he’d just…avoided it. Let himself get caught up in Grace and her spike and the way she looked at him like he was something other than a means to an end.

And now she thought…Christ, she thought he’d been using her.

“I have to go,” Reese said, already moving toward the exit.

“Mr. Spencer, I really am so—”

He didn’t hear the rest. Was already out the door, already calling his driver, already mentally calculating how fast they could get back to Solace Springs.

Three hours. Maybe two and a half if they pushed it and traffic was clear.

Too long. Way too long.

Reese climbed into the car when it arrived, called Grace’s number again. Still off. So he left a message.

“Grace, it’s me. I know what Victoria told you and I need you to know—” He stopped. Started again. “The excavation thing, the permits, that was just my team exploring options, I swear to God. I never decided anything. I never told Erika to move forward with it. And I know how that sounds, I know it looks bad but please, just—” His voice cracked. “Please call me back. Let me explain. Let me—”

The voicemail cut him off.

Reese stared at his phone, then dialed again. Left another message. And another. Each one sounding more desperate than the last, more hollow in his own ears.

What was he going to say? Sorry my assistant filed demolition permits while I was busy falling for you? Sorry I didn’t mention there might be something important to my family buried under your dream inn?

It all sounded like excuses. Like exactly what a rich guy would say when caught in a lie.