Page 11

Mason is the same age as me, and he started working at the lodge right out of high school. He’s one of our longest-standing employees, and he knows everything that goes on at Lovers Lodge.

I once asked him if he knew about my dad and his indiscretions, and he admitted that he had a hunch but never saw anything with his own two eyes, so mentioning it wasn’t right.

I can’t fault him for not wanting to chance spreading a rumor that wasn’t for sure true.

But his time here also means he’s well-versed in the Grace versus Preston world. Shoot, I think I even vented about His Royal Dumbass back in high school, where my friendship with Mason began.

“I do say so,” I reply and then sigh. I need to just get this over with. The sooner we get to the cabin, the sooner this evening moves on, and then it’s morning and bye-bye Preston King.

“Ready?” I ask Preston as I walk to the office hallway.

“Yep.”

“Where is your bag?”

“Oh.” He glances around the room, but Mason cuts in before he finds where the valet assistant placed it.

“I’ll have it brought to your cabin,” he says.

“No way,” I reply. “I’m not forcing my employee to go outside in this weather when this fully grown man can carry his own roller bag.”

“Roller bag?” Preston repeats with a chuckle.

I glare at him, and his smile drops as he clears his throat.

“That’s a way cooler name for it,” he adds, thinking I can’t see the smirk behind his hand.

Mason picks up a phone and asks someone to bring Preston’s bag to the front.

The bellman brings it within seconds.

I’m both proud of my prompt staff and annoyed that Preston can receive help that quickly.

“Let’s go,” I say and walk off.

Preston and the stupid wheels of his suitcase are the only noise to fill the hallway.

You know what? If he keeps up this no-talking thing, this night might not turn out to be so bad after all.

In my office, I quickly pack up my computer and grab my coat, all while noticing that Preston remains in the doorway, his large frame filling the space.

Once my coat is on, I nod my head to the side, silently telling him to move out of my way.

He does without a single word.

Hmm. I’m starting to think he’s up to something.

I click my light off and close the door, then head to the exit.

I try to push the door open, but the howling wind is pushing it back.

I step back to readjust, but Preston’s front meets my back, and he pushes the door open as if it were the easiest thing in the world. He surges forward, causing his body to press into mine, and I stumble. He catches me with his free hand.

“Careful, Sunny,” he says, and I make a fake gag face at the stupid nickname he’s had for me since we were kids.

Do I know why he calls me that? Nope. Have I wanted to ask him? Obviously, but that would require conversation.

I ignore him and practically run through the snow to my cabin door. When I reach it, Preston is right there with me.