Page 23

“Oh. My. God. This will never work.”

“Take a breath,” he says, and stands, grabs my shoulders, and stops me from pacing a hole in my living room carpet. “Perhaps we can spin it as you were trying to avoid other emotions toward me.”

I shake my head, my eyes roaming over Preston’s naked chest once more. I swear I could think more clearly if he weren’t standing in front of me right now. I’d never tell him this, but I’m really enjoying the view.

And that annoys me just as much as the idea of being his fiancée.

His fake fiancée.

“I don’t know, it seems—shit.” Preston’s phone goes off again, and mine follows. “I just don’t think there’s any way we can retract it now. My phone keeps buzzing. Your phone keeps buzzing. Everybody has seen it,” he reminds me. “I think we don’t have a choice but to give this a shot.”

“Fuck,” I say quietly. “I need to talk to Gavin and Dutton. Maybe even my sister might know what I should do.”

“If we do this, you can’t tell even them.” Preston’s voice is firm. Is that his work voice? I’ve never heard that control before.

“What do you mean, I can’t tell anyone? They are my family.”

“What I mean is, the media will do whatever they can to get a story. That means disguising themselves as just a regular person coming to stay at the lodge and striking up conversations, hoping someone slips up. If we do this, nobody can know but us.”

If it weren’t for the remorseful look in Preston’s eyes, I’d think he was only saying this to start an argument with me over trusting my family.

He shakes his head slightly, and I look away.

Shit. He’s right. If anyone knows what to do when it comes to the tabloids, it’s him.

This is just nuts.

I have a love-hate relationship with the lodge’s success right now.

“This is going to be impossible.”

He takes a breath before he replies. “It really won’t be.”

I didn’t expect that response.

I narrow my gaze at him, but I don’t get a second to dissect what the hell that’s supposed to mean before there is a knock at my front door.

I gasp.

Preston and I both stare at it, as if the knock is the only signal we will get before someone breaks in.

But of course, it’s not.

Whoever is at my door knocks again.

“Do I answer it?” I ask my apparent new fiancée.

We don’t even have a full story ready. We need a list of rules and how it happened and a ring, maybe. I have no idea. Not answering is probably the way to go until all the details are squared away.

“Do you often have visitors at this hour?”

I glance at the clock—it’s just after six in the morning.

“The only people who would show up this early would be someone in my family.”

As if the universe heard me, I hear the faint sound of a key unlocking my door.

I move closer to Preston as I wait for whoever it is to open the door.