Page 81 of The Sugar Maple Inn

“Do you like it there?”

Grace sighed. “It’s not terrible. Obviously rent’s below market because Mom owns the building.”

“Sounds like she’s doing you a solid.”

“Is she?” Grace shifted to look at him. “Or is it convenient? She gets a reliable tenant who won’t complain, I get affordable housing and we’re close enough that she can pop up whenever she wants. Win-win, right?”

Reese shuddered. “Christ, the thought of my ma being able to let herself into wherever I’m living…”

“Exactly.”

“You could move,” Reese said carefully.

Grace turned to look at him, eyebrow raised. “That’s the plan. Did you miss the part where I’m scraping together every penny to buy this inn? The annex out back is four times the size of my apartment. It’ll be ideal for me and Zach. Not big, not fancy. Just…ours. A place where we could close the door and nobody else has a key. Where Zach could have friends over without me getting in the way.” Her voice caught. “Somewhere that feels like home instead of just a place I sleep.”

“You’ll have it,” he said quietly.

“What?”

Reese pulled her back against him, kissed her neck. “That annex? You’ll get it. Hell, you can have the whole damn place, far as I’m concerned.”

“Reese, do you realize what you’re—”

“I do.” He kissed her. “We can talk about it properly tomorrow. But first, more wine?”

Over the next couple of hours, they finished the wine. Then found another bottle. Then possibly a third. Grace lost count somewhere around the point where Reese was telling her about a disastrous business meeting in Tokyo and she was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

“I’m drunk,” she announced.

“Same here.” Reese was sprawled on the bed, naked apart from the vintage tie he’d found, looking deliciously rumpled.

“We should probably sleep. It’s two in the morning.”

“Probably.” Neither of them moved.

Grace rolled onto her side to look at him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why did you really want this inn? Like, really really. Because it’s different from your other purchases.”

Reese’s expression flickered—just for a second—and Grace saw something there. Something he wasn’t saying.

“It’s complicated,” he said finally.

“Everything with you is complicated.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“It’s an observation.” Grace reached out, traced the line of his stubbled jaw. “You’re very mysterious, you know that?”

“I’m an open book.”

“You’re a locked vault with the combination hidden in another vault.”

Reese caught her hand, brought it to his lips. “Maybe you just haven’t figured out the right questions to ask.”

“Okay. Here’s a question.” The wine made her bold. “What do you want? From me? From us?”