Chapter Six Reese
Six
Reese
Reese’s Porsche Cayenne handled the winding lake roads like it was built for them, and he used the speed to work off the restless energy that had been building since he’d watched Grace’s son defend her in front of half the town.
The kid had stood there in the middle of a family meltdown, black eye and all, daring the world to underestimate his mother.
Reese recognized it instantly. He’d been that kid once: angry, stubborn, throwing himself in front of trouble because someone had to protect his mom when his dad wasn’t around.
That kind of loyalty made a woman dangerous competition.
Having a kid believe in you like that? It was a force multiplier.
The road climbed higher into the hills surrounding Solace Lake, and Reese pressed the gas harder than he needed to.
The familiar rush of speed helped settle something in his chest, the same restless energy that had driven him to take bigger and bigger risks in business.
Most people called it ambition. His doctor back in Vancouver had suggested it might be something that could be managed with medication, but that wasn’t for Reese. He preferred natural remedies.
The rational move would’ve been to point the car toward Seattle, where an old girlfriend and hot-shot lawyer Sasha Slater lived.
Smart, accomplished, beautiful. She’d all but laid out the itinerary: late dinner at Canlis, drinks back at her condo, a night that ended in her silk sheets. Easy. Safe. No complications.
But something kept him on the lake road instead of turning toward the highway. Something about this place, about tomorrow’s meeting with the Blackwells, about the way Grace Sullivan had looked when she’d declared her intention to fight for that inn.
The image rose uninvited: her hair catching the autumn evening light, those long legs braced as she shouldered through the crowd, her son looking at her like she hung the damn moon.
He imagined doing something reckless and driving to her place if he could find out where it was, telling her to take the inn, letting it all drop so she’d fall into his arms. Her body pressed against his, her mouth hot on his neck, kisses scattered wherever she wanted to put them.
The thought tightened his grip on the wheel.
Damn it, no! He needed that inn. He needed to stop letting his desire do the thinking. Needed to force those hot thoughts to safer ground. Safer ground like his online mentee, AutumnDreams87. The one person he could spill his brain to without consequence.
On impulse, Reese pulled into the overlook halfway up the ridge. Solace Lake spread out below him like black glass. The inn was invisible in the darkness, but he knew it was out there, holding whatever secrets his dad had taken to the grave.
He opened up the Reddit app and went to his inbox.
WildTrailGuide: You up?
AutumnDreams87: I am. Slightly drunk.
WildTrailGuide: Drunk, eh? You come up with any ideas to beat this garden-center queen while half-cut?
AutumnDreams87: Actually yes. I went to a thing tonight. Made sure the right people saw me being all community minded. She was there too. Looking all out of place.
WildTrailGuide: Good. That’s exactly what you should be doing. You’re already winning where it counts.
AutumnDreams87: Maybe. But here’s the thing I can’t figure out. Why does she even want it? The garden center, I mean. He’s clearly not local. Doesn’t know anything about the business. What’s the angle?
WildTrailGuide: He?
AutumnDreams87: SHE. Sorry, I mistyped.
WildTrailGuide: Could be anything. Investment angle. Tax write-off. Some folks with cash just buy stuff cause they can.
AutumnDreams87: That’s so depressing.
Reese paused, looking out at the island. At the inn’s tower, just about viewable under the moonlight, peeking above those maple trees. He thought of something buried out there. Something that mattered to his dad. To the Spencer family.
WildTrailGuide: Sometimes folk grab on to stuff because they’re trying to fill a hole somewhere else. Not everything’s about money.
AutumnDreams87: Yeah. Maybe
There was a pause. He could see the typing indicator appear and disappear several times.
AutumnDreams87: You ever feel lonely? Like, really lonely? Even when you’re surrounded by people?
WildTrailGuide: Yeah. More often than I’d like to admit.
AutumnDreams87: Is that why you’re awake at midnight talking to a stranger on Reddit instead of…I don’t know, doing whatever successful business owners do at midnight?
WildTrailGuide: You’re not a stranger anymore though, are you? We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well these past few weeks. Plus you’re way more interesting than most folks I meet face-to-face.
AutumnDreams87: Even though you don’t actually know anything about me? For all you know I could be completely different from who you think I am.
WildTrailGuide: I know the things that matter. You’ve got grit. Purpose. You know what you want and you’re ready to scrap for it. That’s rare.
AutumnDreams87: You’re being nice because I’m drunk.
WildTrailGuide: I’m being honest because you asked. How drunk are we talking, by the way? On a scale of tipsy to singing tragically hip ballads—how bad is it?
AutumnDreams87: Drunk enough that I’m having thoughts I probably shouldn’t have about my anonymous Reddit mentor.
Reese’s fingers hovered over his phone. That was…unexpected.
WildTrailGuide: What kind of thoughts?
The typing indicator appeared and disappeared three times. He waited, pulse picking up for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely.
AutumnDreams87: Never mind. I’m drunk and being weird. Forget I said anything.
WildTrailGuide: Don’t do that. Don’t take it back. You started to say something…finish it.
AutumnDreams87: I was going to say, I’m wondering what it would be like if you were here. Like, actually here. Not just words on a screen.
WildTrailGuide: What would you want if I was there?
AutumnDreams87: I don’t know. That’s a lie. I do know. I just don’t know if I should say it.
Reese sat up straighter in his car seat, hand moving to his thigh.
WildTrailGuide: You should say it.
The typing indicator appeared and disappeared. Once. Twice. Three times.
AutumnDreams87: I’d want you to tell me I’m doing okay. That I’m not completely insane for wanting this. But not from over there wherever you are. I’d want you close enough that I could…feel it.
WildTrailGuide: Feel what?
AutumnDreams87: That solidness I was talking about. Your presence. Your hands, maybe. God, I can’t believe I just typed that.
Reese’s pulse kicked up. He shifted in his seat, suddenly very aware of the darkness of his car’s interior, the intimacy of the screen’s glow.
WildTrailGuide: Don’t stop now. Where would you want my hands?
AutumnDreams87: This is dangerous territory.
WildTrailGuide: You’re the one who started us down this path. I’m just following your lead.
AutumnDreams87: Following or pushing?
WildTrailGuide: Both. Is that a problem?
AutumnDreams87: No. The opposite of a problem, actually. Which is its own kind of problem.
WildTrailGuide: Stop overthinking. Just tell me. If I were there right now, what would you want?
AutumnDreams87: I’d want you to make me stop thinking about all the ways I might fail. I’d want you to make all that noise in my head go quiet.
WildTrailGuide: I could do that.
AutumnDreams87: How?
WildTrailGuide: How do you feel about playing a game where I give all the commands? A game that allows you to let go for once? Of just having someone tell you what to do, so all you have to do is FEEL.
AutumnDreams87: So what you’re saying is, you want to take charge?
WildTrailGuide: No, just…let me take the wheel for a bit. So your mind’s quiet and it’s just you, my instructions and the sensations.
AutumnDreams87: And these instructions? Maybe give me an example?
The leather creaked as Reese moved his hand across his thigh. He typed, slow and deliberate:
WildTrailGuide: Move your hands down to your thighs. Maybe spread them a little. Slow not fast. Sound good?
The dots blinked, vanished. Then:
AutumnDreams87: Bossy, aren’t you?
WildTrailGuide: That’s the point.
Another pause.
AutumnDreams87: Now what?
His jaw tightened, heat surging straight through him.
WildTrailGuide: Don’t touch yourself until I say. I want you waiting, aching, knowing I’m the only one who decides when it starts and when it ends.
The dots appeared almost immediately.
AutumnDreams87: Like I said, bossy.
Reese’s mouth curved, thumb hovering over the screen.
WildTrailGuide: More like effective.
The dots blinked, vanished, came back.
AutumnDreams87: Okay. What now?
WildTrailGuide: Slide your hand down, under your panties if you have them on. You doing that?
AutumnDreams87: Ah-huh. Though the “panties” thing made me pause. Do you really call them that?
WildTrailGuide: Focus, woman. Now place your finger over the most sensitive part of you. Don’t move it. Don’t go further until I say.
His fingers wrapped around the hard length of himself through the material of his pants.
WildTrailGuide: Stay there. Breathe. Nothing more.
AutumnDreams87: …this is ridiculous.
WildTrailGuide: No. This is me taking control so you don’t have to feel ridiculous. And you like it otherwise you’d have logged off by now.
A pause, then her next message flashed.
AutumnDreams87: I hope you’re touching yourself too.
His breath caught. He pushed his hand beneath his waistband.
WildTrailGuide: Yep. Matching you. Imagining your fingers around the base of my cock, like I want you to imagine my fingers on you. Remember, you don’t move without me.
The dots blinked again.
AutumnDreams87: …and if I do?
Reese’s grin deepened.
WildTrailGuide: Then I make you start over. Ready?
AutumnDreams87: Ready.
WildTrailGuide: Start moving your finger. Circling.
No answer.
WildTrailGuide: Tell me what you’re doing.
AutumnDreams87: I’m circling my clit. I can’t believe I just wrote that.
A low sound escaped Reese’s mouth. He pulled himself out and stroked once, slow, hand tightening, his head tipping back against the leather seat as a groan rumbled from his chest.
WildTrailGuide: Press harder. A little faster. Stay with me.
The dots blinked, stopped, blinked again.
WildTrailGuide: Feel it building?
AutumnDreams87: Ah-huh.
WildTrailGuide: Good. Wanna go faster?
AutumnDreams87: Yes, faster.
WildTrailGuide: Say please.
AutumnDreams87: Please.
His strokes quickened, harder now, body taut. He typed with his spare hand:
WildTrailGuide: Now stop.
AutumnDreams87: Please, no.
WildTrailGuide: Yes.
AutumnDreams87: Are you stopping?
WildTrailGuide: Hell no.
AutumnDreams87: But you said—
WildTrailGuide: I’m in control. STOP.
A pause. Then:
AutumnDreams87: I’ve stopped, you bastard.
He smiled.
WildTrailGuide: Count with me. Three…two…one…
AutumnDreams87: Three…two…one…
WildTrailGuide: Good girl.
AutumnDreams87: Not been called a good girl since I behaved for once after my Girl Scout leader told me I was “too opinionated” for badge duty.
WildTrailGuide: Talking about Girl Scouts isn’t helping here. You wanna start again?
AutumnDreams87: Nope.
WildTrailGuide: Right answer. Now continue. Faster. Circling. Applying pressure.
He drove himself to match his own words, every nerve strung tight. Suddenly, unbidden, he got an image of Grace lying there, doing just what he was instructing AutumnDreams87 to do.
WildTrailGuide: Talk to me. How you feeling?
AutumnDreams87: …oh God—nearly there.
WildTrailGuide: You don’t come until I give the order.
AutumnDreams87: Please.
WildTrailGuide: Insert your fingers now. Imagine it’s me. You doing that?
AutumnDreams87: Yep.
Reese’s grip tightened on the phone, stroking himself with his other.
WildTrailGuide: Slow down again. I want to picture it. How many fingers?
AutumnDreams87: Two. God.
He groaned under his breath.
WildTrailGuide: Bet you can take more. I have big fingers. Insert another finger. You doing that?
The dots blinked hard, fast.
AutumnDreams87: Yeah.
WildTrailGuide: Faster. Deeper. How’d that feel?
Her reply was a mess of letters at first, then—