Page 4

Preston King.

Of course he's coming here. When is he not here? I thought he lived in a nice fancy condo in LA where there isn’t currently a pending snowstorm. With his supermodel girlfriend and his PR team that fixes any bad press that comes his way.

Must be nice to be a King.

Ugh. I swear he's here at the lodge more than he's at his own house. Condo, whatever. I don't even care. It's probably a condo, though. Mm-hmm. For as much as he comes here, you’d think he would finally buy his own house, but apparently, he just enjoys spending his money at the lodge.

Which obviously is fine in my eyes, because we will always accept that. And sure, the world being aware that the heir to King Enterprises loves the lodge helps us out, especially now

Word of mouth is always the best marketing, after all. But if there's one person in this world I can't stand the most, it’s Preston King.

I can't exactly remember the day or the actual event that made me decide how I feel about him. Maybe it was an accumulation of events. Our parents have been friends since college, which means I've known Preston since the day I was born, basically. If I had to guess what changed my mind about him, I’d assume it's when he and my brothers really started to bond during their childhood, and they'd tease me and pick on me.

Then, as he got older, he was so cocky, it made me sick. I mean, come on, you’re fit and have all the perfect features. We see it, you don’t need to remind us. I’m pretty sure his hair is thicker than mine, which pisses me off, and his eyes—God, they are the perfect blue.

He knows he’s handsome, and he acts like it.

He’s like⁠—

“Grace.”

I look up to see Mason, the head of reception, standing in my doorway.

“Yes?”

“The power in Lovers is out, and a lot of locals are checking in for the night. Word is, they’re starting to close the roads outside of town soon, too.”

I’d asked Mason to let me know if things started to pick up due to the weather so I could help. Bad weather does weird things to people. Looks like I’m up, which is good, because I was about to board the I-can’t-stand-Preston-King train of thought, and nothing good comes from thinking about that man.

Chapter

Two

PRESTON

Gretchen

Did you seriously break up with me on a Post-it note?

I let out a sigh. It’s the same message she’s sent me at least once a day since I left said Post-it note.

No, it’s not my finest moment. I can confidently say that I’m a much more mature adult than that, but I'd already told her verbally twice that it was over. By the third time she’d ignored me—that’s the only way I can process this—I told myself she must be a visual learner.

So I wrote it down for her and left it on the computer screen in her office.

Three fucking days ago.

Preston

Yes.

Short and sweet. But the three dots on my phone tell me she has more to say. She always has more to say.

Gretchen

Are you under pressure at work? If this is about you needing space, that’s all you have to say.

Preston