Page 128 of Chasing the Sun

I swallowed, the warmth of her words hitting harder than I expected.

“If you want to dig, then dig,” she added. “There are oldalbums in the storage room—stuff from before the inn was even the Drifted Spirit. Who knows what you’ll find.”

I stepped forward and hugged her on impulse, flour and all.

She made a grumpy sound but hugged me back. “Just don’t burn the biscuits.”

I laughed. “Noted.”

As we pulled apart, Helen returned to the stove. “So how’s your mystery investor working out?”

I scrunched my nose. “Cal told you?”

Helen’s smile softened as she nodded. “He’s so happy for you.”

I swallowed hard. The past few days were a whirlwind of paperwork and deadlines and dreams coming true, but I was also still wrapping my brain around the fact that if all went according to plan, Star Harbor Farm would be mine.

Well,ours.

I still had one last trick up my sleeve and was relieved Cal had been occupied at the hospital with Wes. I didn’t need him getting suspicious. Despite calling JP at 2:15 in the morning, he’d taken my call and seemed just as on board with my idea as ever.

“What can I say about JP King?” I turned to grab the tray, my stomach doing a little somersault as I tamped down my giddiness. “He’s ... professional. Generous. A little intimidating. He’s not the least bit worried that someone will outbid us at the auction.”

“He can freeze hell with one look, that one.” Helen chuckled. “He came out here before, you know.”

I paused, my face scrunching. “He did?”

She flipped the last of the bacon, not looking at me. “Yeah, not too long ago. Cal’s financial adviser set up the meeting, I think. He said he wanted to see the place. I didn’tthink much of it—figured he was considering investing in the inn.”

I went completely still. The tray in my hands felt suddenly too heavy, the room around me too quiet. A spark lit in my chest—something that felt like disbelief, followed by a swell of knowing so visceral I nearly dropped the biscuits. The breath caught in my lungs.

“Wait a minute,” I said carefully, setting the tray back down. “JP King was here before I ever met him?”

Helen nodded. “Mm-hmm. Can’t mistake that looker. Tall. Crisp shirt hiding some muscles. Fancy shoes. Not the type we usually see out here.”

My heart thudded once. Twice. “And you said Cal’s adviser sent him?”

“Pretty sure. Mentioned something about food ventures or hospitality investments.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Why?”

But I didn’t answer—I couldn’t—because my brain was already sprinting ahead—connecting the dots, one by one.

Cal.

He had known.

He’d known all along that JP had the power to help me. JP’s offer hadn’t been luck or fate or some happy accident.

It had been Callum.

And he’d never said a word.

The kettle screamed behind me, a shrill whistle that yanked me back to the present.

I turned it off with a trembling hand and stared out the window, past the orchard, past the barn, to the land that had somehow become home.

He hadn’t done it for credit.

He’d done it forme.