Page 7

Go to Lovers, the place where everything in my life makes sense.

“Well, we both know where you’re headed.”

“What?”

“Come on, Preston, I might run multiple billion-dollar companies, but I know my son best. You’re headed to Lovers, and my guess is, you have no scheduled return date.”

I sigh. I sound just like him.

“Can you make sure I’m left alone while I figure things out?” I ask.

“Yes, but make sure I can reach you if need be, and don’t let your work fall behind. The last thing we need is another reason for anyone to doubt you right now.”

“You got it.”

“I hope you find what you need there, son. Your life won’t disappear while you’re gone. It’ll only be waiting for you when you get back.”

Isn’t that the fucking truth.

“It's a snowy one out there today, Mr. King,” the lodge's head of valet, Eddy, greets me as I open the door of my rental and get out.

I nod, shaking off the snow that's fallen onto my hair in just the seconds I've been out of my vehicle.

“Yeah, from what it sounds like, they were closing the roads right behind me.”

He nods. “I’m not surprised. We've had guests change their plans left and right because they can't leave town to reach the airport in Wind Valley. It was brave of you to drive through the snow.” He gives me the same look I know my father would give me, the one that basically says, you're crazy and should have stayed put.

I clasp a hand on his shoulder and clear my throat. “I made it. That's what counts. Let's hope the snow lets up soon.”

He chuckles. “This is January in Wyoming, sir. I'm not sure that's a thing.”

I wave over my shoulder as I head inside the lodge. The lobby is packed. There are families gathered in every corner, leaving no empty space. I’ve seen this place busy before, but this is different. This is panic. No doubt caused by the power outage throughout most of the town.

They've got three employees behind the counter, with Mason in the middle. He looks calm and poised—not even a snowstorm can frazzle that man. Last year, he was such a valuable asset to me in making sure this place remained in the right hands, and I won’t forget the value in that.

A flash of blonde hair to the left catches my eye. Grace Richford. Also known as the woman who officially owns the lodge as of late last year, thanks to me. Not that she’d ever admit it.

The woman can’t stand me.

To be fair, the feeling is mutual-ish. Her snarky comments and the way she rolls her eyes at me or groans at my mere presence grate on my nerves, but she’s smart as hell and too fucking beautiful for her own good.

It’s hard to dislike someone fully when I’m just as attracted to her mind as I am to her body.

But when it comes to Grace, I won’t be the first to cave to kindness.

What the magazines are saying about her is absolutely insane after the way her father left things. I feel for her. I refuse to tell her that, but I do.

I could help her, but any kind of help from me is the last thing she wants. I don’t need to offer my services to know she’ll just tell me to fuck off.

Was it the dead worms her brothers and I put in her Barbie car as kids that set the tone of our … relationship?

She steps up next to Mason, smiling at the guest he’s been helping. She's so mesmerizingly pretty, it pisses me off.

The guest walks away, and I move up. Mason waves at me, and I wave back.

The line moves swiftly, and by the time it's my turn, I move to the clerk on the left, a woman I don't recognize.

“Hello, sir, are you checking in?”