Page 74 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
Everyone straightens at once, like I’ve rung a school bell.
“All right, all right,” Mom says, setting her notebook aside and stretching her arms. “Put me on flowers and table settings. You know I can’t resist a chance to play with color.”
“I’ll help with setup,” Hazel says, flipping her sketchpad closed. “I’ve got that hanging lantern idea I told you about. We’ll make the backyard look like a vineyard in Tuscany.”
“I’ll do the wine labels,” Aunt Edie chimes in, not even looking up from her fruit peeling. “People like to know what they’re drinking. Makes them feel sophisticated.”
The energy in the kitchen kicks into overdrive. Everyone’s talking over each other, tossing out ideas, making quick decisions, shifting chairs, and unearthing old decor boxes like they’re on a deadline for a wedding.
I slip out while they’re distracted, hurrying upstairs to check if I still have the box of fairy lights I used for last year’s Autumn Soirée. My room is a mess of half-unpacked storage bins, but I find the lights tucked behind my dresser, tangled but usable.
As I head back downstairs, I pass the library. The door is slightly open. Two guests are nestled into the armchairs by the window, sipping tea and flipping through a local travel magazine.
I’m about to keep walking when one of them leans forward and says, “I swear, that guest, Cal, looks just like that guy fromForbes.”
I slow down instinctively, hidden just out of sight.
Forbes?
“Which one?” the second woman asks, amused.
The first laughs softly. “I can’t remember his last name right now. But he’s this super-rich tech guy. There was a whole feature on him a few months ago. His name is Cal, too.”
I freeze, my hand flying to my chest. This can’t be right.
There’s a pause, then the second voice scoffs. “Come on. I love the Key & Kettle, but let’s be real—this isn’t exactly where a billionaire would go to unwind.”
The first woman giggles. “You’re right. That’s why I haven’t said anything. Plus, the other guy doesn’t have lots of pictures on the internet, just a few, so I don’t have much to go by. It’s probably just a resemblance. I’ve met a doppelganger myself.”
Their conversation shifts to something else—someone’s engagement ring and a disastrous bridal shower—but I don’t hear a word of it. I clutch the fairy lights tighter and walk away before they notice me.
Hazel and I spend most of the afternoon in town, checking off last-minute errands for the wine event. We meet with the live band, go over the playlist twice, and pick up some extra decor from the artisan shop near the square.
At some point, while we’re waiting for someone to load drinks into the back of the car, Hazel glances at me sideways. “You good?”
I look up from my phone, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”
She doesn’t push, just nods, but her eyes linger longer than usual. Like she knows something’s off.
When we get back to the inn, Kettle Hour is in full swing. The scent of apple cinnamon scones drifts through the entryway, and laughter spills from the front parlor in waves. I stop for a moment in the hall, letting the warmth of it all sink in.
That’s when I catch a glimpse of Cal.
He’s sitting in the corner of the room, tea in hand, laughing at something Amee is saying with wild gestures. His eyes catch mine through the crowd. He lifts a hand in a wave, and something about the ease in his smile stops me.
I wave back. Brief. Small.
Then I turn and head toward the kitchen, my thoughts trailing behind me like loose threads. Hazel, Maya, and Ana follow me into the kitchen, and soon, they’re talking over each other, cracking jokes, and bickering in that easy, familiar way—but it barely registers. I murmur something about needing to check a few things and slip away before anyone can ask questions.
By the time I reach my office, my chest feels tight, like I’ve been holding my breath without realizing it.
I close the door behind me and sit at my desk, staring at the laptop. For a moment, I just sit there, palms flat against the edge of the desk, listening to the quiet hum of the inn around me.
Then I open the browser.
Cal Reid.
I type it slowly, like that might make a difference. Like maybe I’d find something new this time. A clue I missed before.
