Chapter Thirty-Seven Reese
Thirty-Seven
Reese
Reese’s Aston Martin sat angled across two spots. He wanted to say it was because he’d stopped caring about parking tickets around the time his portfolio topped nine figures. But truth was, he’d just been desperate to get to Grace from the airport.
Grace wasn’t impressed.
“Wow,” she said, staring like he’d parked a UFO in front of the café. “Compensating for something with a car like that? And why are you taking up two spaces?”
He laughed. Most people saw the car and immediately started rehearsing their best networking pitch. Grace saw it and fired the first shot. God, he loved that about her.
“You know I’m not compensating for anything,” he said, placing his hand on her back and opening the door for her.
He caught the flush on her cheeks then watched her hesitate.
Her eyes darted between the polished leather interior and her own reflection in the window: pink-tipped hair frizzed by lake air, smudged eyeliner from the espresso machine steam.
He could practically hear her inner monologue gearing up for a self-critique.
She had no idea how beautiful she was. None.
“Reese,” she said, still rooted to the spot, “I can’t get in your fancy car looking like this. I look like—”
“Perfect,” he said. “You look perfect, Grace.”
She rolled her eyes. “I look like I’ve been running muffins and lattes for four hours.”
He smiled. “You look like yourself. That’s the part that works for me.”
His hand found her cheek, warm skin against the cold morning air. Her breath hitched.
“Don’t fight me on this, Grace. I’m exhausted and I just want you all to myself. Get in the car,” he said softly. “Please.”
And there it was. The tiny shift. Her shoulders relaxing, eyes softening. Surrender wasn’t the right word, but something close.
She slid into the passenger seat, muttering something under her breath about leather and overcompensation.
He circled to the driver’s side, grinning despite himself.
Watching Grace in a world like his was like watching a wild bird land on a high-rise balcony—out of place but impossible to look away from.
He got in beside her, the air between them charged.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see.”
“That’s not ominous at all.”
Reese smiled, eyes on the road. “Trust me?”
And for a second, he thought she might actually say no. But then she gave this small, nervous laugh and looked out the window instead. That was Grace: cautious heart, brave face.
They drove through Solace Springs in easy silence. The town rolled by in its autumn best, maples burning red, gold leaves spilling across the road. Grace watched it all with the faintest smile, and Reese stole glances when she wasn’t looking.
“You really flew back,” she said finally, breaking the silence. “From Cuba. Because I didn’t text you back?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s insane.”
“Probably.” He tightened his grip on the wheel. “I know what this looks like. Some rich guy overdoing it because he can. But that’s not…” He paused, finding the right words. “When you didn’t respond, I thought I’d already screwed it up. And I needed to know you were okay. That we were okay.”
Her head turned, eyes soft. “I wasn’t trying to punish you. I just…got in my head. Started thinking about all the reasons why this is a terrible idea.”
“And?”
“And I came up with about a million.”
He couldn’t help the grin. “I can probably match you reason for reason, if it helps.”
“You’re the one with doubts?”
“Grace, you’re terrifying.”
“I’m terrifying? You’re the goddamn billionaire.”
“Yeah, and you dumped food on me, have called me an arrogant asshole and didn’t blink while doing it. Most people flinch when I walk into a room. You looked at me like I was a parking violation. Do you have any idea how rare that is?” he said quietly. “How refreshing?”
He didn’t wait for her answer, just turned off onto the smaller dirt road he’d memorized from the map Erika had sent over.
The tires crunched over gravel, the trees parted and the view opened up.
The old barn had been transformed into something out of a Visit Britain ad…
if Visit Britain came with mood lighting and Reese Spencer’s credit card.
Fairy lights draped from the rafters, the air thick with the smell of roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, and gravy that could’ve converted a vegetarian.
A battered sign over the entrance read The Maple & Crown in curling gold paint, and beside it stood the pièce de résistance: an actual red phone box, complete with rain-speckled glass and a faded Mind the Step sticker.
Grace’s eyes widened as she took it all in. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Reese smiled, coming around to open her door. “You said you wanted to see the UK countryside in autumn. Closest I could plan in twelve hours.”
Her eyes widened, darting from the twinkling fairy lights to the phone box to the little pub scene as they stepped inside. There was an actual bar stocked with British beer, hand-pulled cask pumps and a blackboard listing Sunday Roast: ￡Free with Charm.
Behind it stood a gray-haired man in an apron polishing a pint glass. A soccer match played on a small wall-mounted TV in the corner, muted but recognizable: Zach’s favorite team, Chelsea, by the look of it.
Grace turned in a slow circle, shaking her head. “You did all this?”
“Technically,” Reese said, “I had help. I’m told that’s a proper British pub carpet, by the way.”
Grace looked down at the swirling red-and-green monstrosity underfoot and burst out laughing. “It’s hideous.”
“Apparently, that’s the point.”
They were shown to a small table by the fire. The plates arrived steaming: golden roast potatoes, beef so tender it practically apologized when the fork touched it, and a mountain of sticky toffee pudding waiting for dessert.
Grace moaned softly after her first bite. “Oh my God. This might actually be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
Reese grinned into his pint of bitter. “Told you. The British may not do sunshine, but they’ve nailed comfort food.”
“You even got the smell right,” she said, glancing around. “Old wood, beer, someone’s damp dog.”
He raised his glass. “Authenticity.”
They lingered over pudding, laughing in a way that made Reese’s chest ache. He couldn’t stop looking at her—cheeks flushed from wine and firelight, hair catching the glow. Every once in a while, she’d glance up and catch him staring. And instead of looking away, she smiled.
By the time they stumbled outside, the air had cooled, the smell of bonfire smoke drifting on the breeze. Fairy lights glowed along the fence. The red phone box stood there, glowing softly from within, like it was waiting for them.
Grace caught his hand, tugging him toward it. “Come on, Mr. Billionaire. Let’s see if this thing still works.”
He followed her in, barely fitting, their bodies pressed close in the tiny space. She tilted her face up, eyes sparkling. “I think it only takes coins.”
“Then we’ll just have to improvise,” he said, voice low.
Her laugh turned into a sigh as he kissed her: deep, hungry, all the restraint he’d been clinging to unraveling one button at a time. The sound of rain hit the glass above them, soft and steady.
When she sank to her knees, the receiver bumped lightly against the wall, swaying on its cord. Reese’s hand hit the glass, breath shuddering out of him and all he could think was that no amount of money or travel or power had ever felt remotely like this.
Heat flooded through him as she took him into her mouth. He looked down, watching her work him, slow and hungry. He could feel it building already.
Damn, what this woman does to me.
“Fuck,” he said as she swirled her tongue around him, “just like that.”
She pulled him deeper into her mouth and his muscles went taut. “No, no. You got to stop, I want to be inside you, Grace.”
He pulled her up, hitched her leg up, shoved her panties aside, slid a condom on, and sunk into her as she gasped.
“This is insane,” Grace gasped between movements. “We’re—oh God—we’re having sex in a phone booth.”
“Yep.” His voice was strained, rough. “Any complaints?”
“Not a single one.” She wrapped her legs tighter around him, and they both made sounds that definitely carried beyond the glass walls.
When he came, Reese buried his face in Grace’s neck, his whole body shaking with the force of it. They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, tangled together in the tiny space.
“So,” Grace said eventually, pointing out a small crack in the glass. “I think we broke the phone booth.”
Reese laughed and carefully lowered her to her feet. “So worth it.”
“Definitely worth it.”
Reese’s phone buzzed. He ignored it. Once. Twice. Third buzz…relentless.
“Christ,” he muttered, “give me a second while I turn this thing off.”
“No, get it. It might be about the fire.”
He sighed and went to his phone, seeing a message that made him groan. “Shit, totally forgot.”
“About what?”
“Reminder about the fundraiser in Seattle tomorrow. At least it’s close.” He paused, looking at Grace. “Come with me.”
“What?”
“Come with me to the fundraiser, as my plus one.” He took her hands. “Please, Grace.”
“But…I don’t have a dress.” She said it lightly, but he caught the tension underneath. “I mean, I have a dress. The black one I wear to funerals and the pink one I wear to the occasional wedding. But something tells me that’s not going to cut it for whatever this event is.”
“I’ll have something delivered. First thing tomorrow morning. What’s your favorite designer? Favorite color?”
“My favorite designer? Oh, you know, I’m very loyal to Target. Their fall collection really speaks to me.”
He laughed. “Target. Right.”
“I’m serious! They have excellent work pants.”
“Grace—”
“Fine, Old Navy. But only when they’re having a sale.”
“Carolina Herrera it is, then,” he said, grinning at her scandalized expression. “I’ll have my assistant send a few options to your place first thing. Should be there by nine. Then I’ll pick you up at five. Sound good?”
He saw it immediately: the pause, the slight shift in her expression. He’d made this mistake already, assuming she was in charge of her life.
“Shit,” he said. “Will you still be at the café? It’s Friday.”
Grace bit her lip, and Reese had to actively stop himself from leaning over to trace that gesture with his thumb. Or his mouth.
“I’ll get the afternoon off,” she said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Mom wouldn’t be Mom if she turned down a chance for me to go to a fancy fundraiser with a billionaire. Hell, she might sneak in herself, you better check the potted plants.”
He smiled. “Good. That’s…good.”
Because he was already looking forward to tomorrow. To seeing Grace in a dress that wasn’t black and funeral-appropriate. To watching her face when she realized she could be just as stunning in designer silk as she was in her coffee-stained uniform.
To spoiling her, just a little bit more.
She had no idea what she’d just agreed to.
And Reese couldn’t wait to show her.