Chapter Nineteen Reese
Nineteen
Reese
Trapped in a tower with Grace Sullivan.
Half of Reese wanted to laugh at the absurdity. The other half was acutely aware that she was standing three feet away in a nightgown so thin the moonlight made it irrelevant.
Dangerous. This whole situation was dangerous.
He focused on the bottles. Safer than looking at her. Safer than thinking about how her hair caught the light or the curve of her hip, or the fact that they were going to be alone up here until morning.
Behind him, he heard rustling. Fabric moving. When he glanced over his shoulder, Grace had grabbed a thick blanket from the chest at the foot of the bed, wrapping it around herself like armor.
Disappointment hit him harder than it should have.
“What’ll it be?” he asked.
“Something strong enough to make me forget I’m trapped in a tower with a man who’s trying to ruin my life?”
He laughed. Did she know those little quips of hers only made him harder?
Reese grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses. No ice. If they were doing this, they were doing it properly.
Grace settled into one of the armchairs by the window, tucking her legs under the blanket. Reese took the other chair, leaning over to hand her the glass. Their fingers brushed. Brief. Electric.
She turned away, diverting her attention to the view outside the small balcony where the storm raged.
Wind screamed past the tower, rain lashing the windows in sheets.
Lightning cracked across the sky, highlighting the lake below in brief, violent flashes.
From this height, they could see the whole northeastern shore of Solace Lake, the dark mass of forest below bending under the wind’s assault.
It was wild and primal. Beautiful in the way natural disasters were beautiful when you were safe from them.
Or were they safe?
Reese took a drink. Let the whiskey burn down his throat. “So,” he said, “what would you do with this tower?”
Grace looked at him over her glass, eyes sharp even in the dim light. “Not going to tell you that, am I? You’re the competition.”
“I can guess.”
“Go on then.”
“You’d keep it the same. Fix what’s broken. But you wouldn’t change the bones of it. You’d want guests to feel like they’d stepped back in time.”
She didn’t say anything. Just took a sip of whiskey, watching him. “What about you?”
He leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs out. “I’ll add to the balcony, wrap it around the exterior. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Your turn.”
She bit her lip as she looked out at the storm, then to the clock on the wall. “Honestly, I’m not in the mood to talk about my plans for the inn. I mean, what chance do I actually have against a freaking billionaire?”
That surprised him. The first real crack in her confidence. Grace had been all fire and fight since the moment they’d met; sarcasm and stubbornness wrapped in pink-tipped hair and a waitress uniform. But this? This was something else.
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” he said. “Abe and Margaret, they seem like the types to go with heart over head.”
“No.” Grace shook her head firmly. “Abe’s all head. He’ll go with whoever makes the most sense financially to keep his legacy alive…and that’s not the single mom with the bank rejection letters.” She took another sip. Deeper this time. “The dream’s over. I just haven’t accepted it yet.”
Reese studied her. Trying to figure out if this was a play. An appeal to his pity, some strategy to get him to back down. But she seemed genuine. And that made him feel…something.
“I was serious, you know,” he said. “About taking you on as manager. You could live in that annex out back with Zach. I’d get the place fixed up properly. Modern systems, structural work. You’d have a real salary, benefits. Security.”
He expected gratitude. Maybe relief. Instead, anger flashed across her face.
“You clearly didn’t listen to me,” Grace said. “I don’t want to manage someone else’s dream. I need something that’s mine. Something that can’t be taken away when the billionaire gets bored and moves on to the next project.”
There was the fire and fight.
“I do get it,” Reese said, feeling his own temper rise. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’ve been where you are.”
“What, a single mom? A woman trying to get a loan in a town where everyone knows her business? Come on, Reese.”
He frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean? Because from where I’m sitting, you got lucky. Right place, right time, right connections. You made it out and now you’re here taking opportunities from people who actually need them.”
The words hit like a slap. “I’ve worked my ass off,” Reese said, leaning forward and jabbing his finger on the table.
“Taken risks that would’ve broken most people.
Built something from nothing with my own hands and my own sweat and yeah, maybe some luck, but mostly just refusing to quit when everyone else would have.
And you’re reducing it to just luck? Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity, Grace. ”
Grace frowned. WildTrailGuide had said that.
They glared at each other, the heat rising.
Then Grace broke the spell and looked away, taking another sip of whiskey. “Sorry. That was unfair.”
Reese didn’t answer. Just stared out at the storm.
A beat passed. Two.
“Let’s change the subject,” Grace said eventually. “What would you usually be doing on a Monday night?”
He glanced at her. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“This, I guess. Drinking indoors. Staring out at a storm somewhere.”
“Not partying?”
Reese smiled despite himself. “I save my partying for the other six nights.”
That got a laugh out of her. Small, but real.
“Come on,” Grace said, settling deeper into the chair. “Humor me. Share the life of a globe-trotter. What’s it actually like?”
He hesitated. Most people assumed his life was one long highlight reel: all yachts and private jets and supermodels. And sure, there was some of that. But most of it?
“Half glamorous,” he admitted, “half boring as hell. Lot of meetings. Lot of travel. Lot of time in hotels that all look the same.”
“But the other half?”
“The other half’s pretty good,” he admitted.
Grace leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity and whiskey. “Okay. Tell me the most extravagant thing you’ve ever bought.”
Reese thought about it. “Private island in the Maldives. Purchased it five years ago. Fully staffed. I’ve been there twice.”
“Twice? You bought an island and have only visited twice?”
He shrugged. “I’m busy. Friends make the most of it, though, family too.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “That’s insane. Anything else?”
He didn’t have to think long. “Helicopter. I was in Vancouver, saw it at a trade show, bought it on the spot.”
“Of course you did.” Grace was grinning now. “How many cars?”
“Active rotation? Four. In storage? Maybe fifteen.”
“Fifteen cars you don’t drive.”
“They’re investments.”
“They’re ridiculous. What about staff? How many people work for you?”
“Directly? Maybe twenty. Cleaning staff, personal assistant, property managers, pilots. If you count all my businesses, couple thousand.”
Grace whistled low. “A couple thousand people depending on you for their livelihood. That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Yeah.” He hadn’t expected her to see that part. Most people just saw the money. “It is.”
“Last question. And you have to answer honestly.”
“All right.”
“All the rumors. About actresses and models and—” She waved her hand vaguely. “All that. True?”
Reese’s eyes darkened. There it was. The question every woman wanted to ask.
He thought about his ex-wife, Megan. The way she’d looked at him that last night, mascara running, face red from crying.
“Yeah, some of it’s true,” he said finally. “I’ve dated models, actresses, executives. Usually lasts a few months before they figure out I’m married to my work and they’re the mistress.”
Grace watched him carefully. “That sounds lonely.”
“It is what it is.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Reese met her eyes. Pale blue in the moonlight. Searching his face for something he wasn’t sure he could give.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It gets lonely.”
Grace held his gaze for a long moment, then raised her glass. “To lonely people trapped in towers.”
Despite everything, Reese smiled. Raised his own glass. “To lonely people.”
They drank.
Outside, lightning split the sky again and the tower shuddered with thunder that felt like it was coming from inside the stone itself.
And Reese realized, with a clarity that was probably the whiskey but felt like truth, that he was in serious trouble here.
Because Grace Sullivan wasn’t just attractive. Wasn’t just competition.
She was dangerous in ways he hadn’t anticipated.
And they still had hours until morning.
And now she was leaning over to place her glass down, the blanket slipping, a hint of nipple beneath that thin fabric and he was truly about to lose his mind.