Page 20 of The Sugar Maple Inn

She found her phone and typed, fingers still trembling.

AutumnDreams87: What did we just do?

A pause, then his reply:

WildTrailGuide: Something I’m not going to forget anytime soon.

Grace stared at the screen, chest still heaving, horrified and exhilarated. She’d never done anything like this before. Never even thought she would.

And even more surprising, she’d pictured Reese Spencer, her competition, as she’d done it…and she’d have to face him the next day, those images in her mind.

Eight

Grace

Grace hurried down the dock toward Luke’s boathouse the next afternoon, her stomach a knot of nerves and anticipation.

Luke was standing on his dock with his brother Finn, the two men staring out at the increasingly choppy water. Luke’s expression didn’t exactly scream confidence. “I’m not convinced this is a good idea, Grace. The front’s moving in earlier than I thought.”

“Yeah,” Finn said, raking his fingers through his curly brown hair. “Look at those swells.”

Grace followed his gaze across the lake. The water that had been relatively calm an hour ago was now white-capped and restless, and dark clouds were gathering on the horizon like an army preparing for battle.

“It’s just a little choppy,” she said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Your new boat can handle it, right?” She nodded toward Luke’s dock, where his new boat bobbed in the ripples. He’d built it himself. Five months, scrap parts, stubborn determination. Not yacht-club pretty, but solid. Like everything Luke touched, it worked.

Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not so sure.”

“Please, Luke.” Grace grabbed his arm. “The Blackwells are expecting me at two!”

He studied her face for a long moment, then sighed. “Let’s give it twenty minutes. Go see Sophie, she wants to debrief your little announcement last night,” Luke suggested, nodding toward the Cherry Blossom Book Shop. “I’ll keep an eye on the weather.”

Grace practically sprinted to Sophie’s boathouse-turned-bookshop, the familiar smell of vanilla and books greeting her as she pushed through the door. The place was gorgeous, with floor-to-ceiling shelves curving perfectly with the old boathouse walls, painted in soft shades of sage melting into pink. Light poured through the big arched window onto the built-in seat beneath it, upholstered in sage-green fabric embroidered with tiny books. Every table gleamed with neat stacks of paperbacks, each one crowned by Sophie’s tidy little handwritten notes: This made me cry on the train in London…in the best way. –S. Nearby, a corner dedicated to Solace Springs’ history displayed faded photographs of boatbuilders, families on docks and a cracked old journal that looked like it still smelled of varnish and sweat.

It was all perfect: warm, nostalgic, the kind of place people came to find themselves, or to escape. Grace’s chest tightened, just a little, because she wanted this too. Her own space. Her own success. Something that smelled of more than coffee and compromise.

“Grace!” Sophie looked up from where she was arranging books on a display table, her face lighting up. “Perfect timing. I just put the kettle on. You can grab a quick tea before—” She stopped, taking in Grace’s expression. “Oh no. What’s wrong?”

“Storm,” Grace said simply, sinking into the ridiculously comfy window seat as she stared gloomily out at the lake. “Luke thinks it might be too rough to get to the island today. He said to give it twenty minutes.”

Sophie grimaced then headed toward the refreshment area at the back of the bookshop. “Well, at least it’ll give us time to chat. I can’t believe you told the whole town you wanted to buy the inn last night. Your mom didn’t look happy.”

“Oh, she so wasn’t.”

“Mr. Entrepreneur did well,” Sophie said, swirling a teabag around Grace’s mug. “I couldn’t help but—”

Grace put one finger up. “Don’t go talking about how hot he is, I’ve already had half the town going on about it this morning in the café.”

Sophie pretended to zip her lips shut and walked over, pressing a steaming mug of cranberry orange tea into Grace’s hands. Grace took a sip, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders. “God, I so need this. I hardly slept last night.”

Sophie sat next to her, tucking her feet under her as she blew at her tea. “Nervous about the meeting?”

Grace felt heat creep up her neck. “Yes. But I was also…distracted.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Distracted how?”

“Let’s just say I had a very interesting conversation with the guy I’ve been chatting to online, WildTrailGuide.”

“Are you telling me you were sexting your mystery business mentor?”