“Max,” she squeaked.
“Frankie.”
The tension stretched thick between us again.
I exhaled slowly and turned into the long circular drive leading to the lodge.
The truth was, I didn’t give a damn about Tiffany anymore.
Maybe I had once. Or maybe I’d just liked the idea of wanting someone polished and sophisticated because that was what men like me were supposed to want.
But Tiffany had never looked at me and seen a man. She’d seen power. Land. Money. The Wilder name. Leo was worse. My cousin had spent his entire life trying to take whatever belonged to me simply because he couldn’t stand the fact that our grandfather trusted me more.
He wanted the company without the work. The money without the sacrifice. The respect without earning it.
And now he wanted the woman who used to warm my bed because somewhere deep down, Leo still thought beating me meant taking things from me.
The idiot still didn’t understand there was a reason Tiffany chose him in the end.
She wanted someone she could control, and she’d found out soon enough that was never going to be me.
Beside me, Frankie looked out the windshield. “I just don’t want to let you down.”
Oh, if only she knew.“You couldn’t,” I said quietly, truthfully.
Because somewhere between her smart mouth and those dangerous curves and the way she’d thrown herself into my corner yesterday without hesitation…
Frankie had become the only thing that mattered.
The lodge was a masterpiece of glass and cedar, perched at the top of the mountain overlooking the valley. It was the kind of place my family loved — expensive, exclusive, and pretentious as hell. It suited Leo and Tiffany perfectly. All polished wood, expensive wine, and people pretending to enjoy tiny portions of food.
I handed the keys to the valet and grabbed our bags. I kept one hand firmly on the small of Frankie’s back as we walkedinto the lobby. Partly for show. Mostly because I liked touching her too damn much already. I felt her shiver under my touch, her body leaning into mine almost instinctively. Like her body already knew mine belonged next to it.
Check-in was a blur of forced smiles and congratulations from staff who knew the Wilder name. The lobby was filled with the sounds of ice clinking in glasses and the high-itched laughter of people I’d spent my life avoiding.
“The suite is ready for you, Mr. Wilder. When you’re ready, you’re to go to the trailhead for the Welcome Challenge. You have about twenty minutes before the first event starts.” She handed me the key and a small cream colored card. I glanced down at it. It had a list of wedding activities that would take place. Leave it to Tiffany and Leo to make this into a big production.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the card and key and steering Frankie toward the elevators.
I could feel her looking at me, her eyes tracking the line of my jaw. My groin tightened, a sharp, insistent ache that made me want to hit the emergency stop button and pin her against the wall and see if she’d make those soft little gasping sounds she’d made when I’d kissed her.
Exiting the elevator, I led her down the hallway to the end suite. I swiped the card and pushed the door open, stepping back to let her enter first. The room was massive. Vaulted ceilings, a stone fireplace, and a view that stretched for miles.
And one bed.
It sat in the center of the room like a challenge — a sprawling, plush king-sized mattress draped in white silk. No couch. No daybed. Just a sea of pillows and a lot of potential for trouble. I wanted to strip her bare and see how she looked against those white sheets, but I forced myself to stay still.
Frankie stopped dead in the middle of the room. “Oh.”
I closed the door behind us with a solid thud.
Frankie turned around, her eyes wide and dark. She looked shy, flustered, and so damn kissable I had to shove my hands into my pockets to keep from grabbing her.
She turned in a slow circle, clearly inventorying every surface for a possible second sleeping option. Her gaze landed on the two leather armchairs. Then the window seat — decorative, maybe three feet long. Her shoulders dropped slightly with each failed option.
“Maybe there’s another room available?” Her voice climbed half an octave. “I could check at the desk. Tell them there was a mix-up with the reservation—”
“The lodge is booked solid for the wedding.”
