Page 82 of The Sugar Maple Inn

That wolfish look again, sharper this time. “You sure you want that answer?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Reese pulled her on top of him, hands sliding up her thighs. “I want to play a game.”

“We just played Monopoly—”

“A different kind of game. A game where I give all the commands. A game that allows you to let go.”

Grace froze.

Wait.

Wait a minute.

Those words. That exact phrasing. WildTrailGuide had said that. Word for word. Two nights ago when they’d been messaging and he’d—

No.

No, that was impossible.

Grace’s brain scrambled, pulling up memories like evidence. The typing style. The direct commands. The way WildTrailGuide talked about business and ambition and—

Competitiveness isn’t a character flaw. It’s a resource.

Reese had said almost the same thing last night. About being hungrier than everyone else.

When I’m inside you, I want you desperate for it.

The same dominant edge. The same absolute certainty.

Oh God.

Was Reese WildTrailGuide?

“Grace?” Reese asked, a look of concern on his face. “You all right there?”

“What did you just say?”

“I asked if you’re okay? What’s going on?”

“No, before that.”

“I said I have an idea for a game—”

“No. The exact words. Say them again.”

He frowned. “A game where I give all the commands. A game that allows you to let go.”

“You say this to all your online girlfriends?”

“Online? I don’t understand.”

“Are you WildTrailGuide?”

Reese’s face drained of color.

Thirty-One