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If she did, she didn’t come back for a reason.

That reason being me.

I inhale a deep breath and slowly let it out.

I grab her coffee mug, then my coat, and head out the door.

It’s clear in the short time we’ve spent together that Grace spends more time caring about others than she does herself.

Fake engagement or not, that ends now.

She’ll burn out if she doesn’t have someone looking out for her.

The wind blows in a little snow with me as I enter through the side door to the lodge.

I head down the employee hallway, passing Gavin’s office, where I hear him tell Layla that she can’t just book a massage at the lodge’s spa whenever she wants.

I chuckle, continuing until I reach Grace’s office.

It’s empty. I shrug my coat off and resume my search for her.

The lodge is in full swing. Some guests are headed to the spa, a few toward the restaurant and lounge, and a couple are sitting in one of the main seating areas flipping through wedding planning binders.

If there is a couple planning a wedding, Grace is sure to be nearby.

I scan the lobby and freeze when I spot her.

She’s standing near a corner, with a man who is talking expressively and using his hands more than the average person should.

His jerky movements tell me he isn’t happy about something.

Grace has her arms crossed, and from the looks of it, she’s trying to look everywhere but at this guy.

Who the fuck is he? And in what world does he believe he has any right to speak to Grace this way?

Fuck. It’s got to be a reporter who got through somehow. Some of these assholes just don’t know where to draw the line.

My strides are filled with purpose. Whoever this jackass is, he’s making her uncomfortable. I can see it from across the room.

Hell, even a person who’s never met Grace would know she’s uncomfortable.

But seeing that they are in the middle of the lobby, she’s not going to cause a scene.

Lucky for her, I don’t feel the same way.

“Grace!” I haven’t quite reached her, but I am close enough that I can put a stop to whatever this guy is going on about.

They both turn to me, but my eyes are only on Grace.

I take her in, studying the way her eyes widen, the way her lips part, and the way her shoulders drop when it clicks that I’m the one who called her name.

She lets her arms fall to her side and takes a step toward me.

“Preston, hi.”

I come to a stop at her side and rest my hand on her lower back as I lean down to kiss her forehead, just the way we talked about.

I expect her to have some sort of reaction to my greeting, even though we never agreed on what she would do, but leaning into me and lacing her hand with mine is not what I was expecting.