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I chuckle. “Like ten different times.”

Gavin laughs harder. “Was that the same summer Grace wore yellow like every single day?”

I grin.

“It sure was.”

It seemed only fitting that Grace acquired her Sunny nickname that year. I always chalked it up to her personality and joked about it, but Grace in yellow will always be my favorite. Her skin glows and her eyes pop, demanding your attention and … fuck.

Do I still have a crush on my fake fiancée?

Chapter

Ten

GRACE

Gavin

Taking my afternoon off today with Preston.

I read my brother’s text message as I make a beeline for my office. Sadly, today hasn’t even been busy, but mentally it’s taken a toll on me, and Brad showing up did not help. Now my stomach is growling like a starved bear, and I just need some peace.

Aside from the mini scolding Preston gave me earlier about it, the highlight of my day was actually when he brought me my coffee. Only the Lord knows how bad I needed it this morning.

Now, it’s just after two, and I’m finally catching a break in my day.

I should sneak over to my cabin to grab some food, but I saw an article about Preston and me earlier that has been on my mind. We asked his PR team to put out a statement requesting privacy, and it’s worked so far. So while the media is now focused on my relationship with Preston, this is the best time to stay levelheaded with the direction I want to take the lodge.

Food can wait. I have emails I need to send and phone calls to make.

My stomach growls again so loudly, I’m convinced the front desk can hear it from my office doorway.

As soon as I round the corner, I pause, my sights set on the takeout container from the restaurant sitting on my desk.

I walk toward it slowly, as if it’s going to explode or something.

There’s a note on the top.

Mr. King asked us to bring this to your office. Please call us if you need anything else.

I hate the smile that takes over my lips.

I sit quickly and then pop the top, my stupid smile only growing wider at the sight of the crispy chicken.

It’s been so long.

I pluck a piece with my bare fingers, because who has time for a fork when fried chicken is waiting for you?

The moment all the peppercorn flavors hit my tongue, I moan.

Damn you, Preston.

Why are you so aware?

He has been for the last two days.

Two.