Page 54 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

"Amelia?" His voice emerges soft in the darkness.

"Yes?" I whisper back, irrationally afraid of disturbing the stillness around us.

"Thank you for making this work, despite all the chaos. The resort really needs this wedding to succeed."

His simple gratitude warms me more than any physical contact could. "Thank you for being so adaptable to the changes."

The silence stretches between us, comfortable rather than awkward. Outside, the wind howls against the cabin walls, reinforcing the cocoon-like intimacy of our shelter. The mattress shifts slightly as Lucas turns toward me.

"Goodnight, Amelia." The word carries more weight than its two syllables should allow.

"Goodnight, Lucas."

I close my eyes, listening to the storm outside and his quiet breathing beside me. For the first time since arriving at Angel's Peak, I feel neither anxious about the wedding nor confused about my attraction to Lucas. Instead, a curious peace settles over me—the recognition of having found an unexpected ally in what began as adversarial territory.

Sleep approaches gradually, my awareness of his proximity never fading. In the last moments before consciousness slips away, I realize with startling clarity that the most dangerous aspect of this arrangement isn't the risk of physical boundaries crossed between us, but the emotional ones. Because somewherebetween professional antagonism and reluctant collaboration, Lucas Reid has become something I never anticipated.

Essential.

Chapter 12

Reality Check

The vibrationof my phone against the nightstand jolts me from sleep. In the gray pre-dawn light, I fumble for it, careful not to disturb Lucas's sleeping form on the other side of the bed. We've maintained our careful distance throughout the night, though I woke once to find his hand stretched toward me in sleep, fingers just inches from mine.

"Hello?" I whisper, slipping from beneath the warm covers.

"Ms. Hayes?" An unfamiliar male voice crackles through the connection. "This is Sheriff Donovan. I'm calling all the stranded guests and staff at Angel's Peak."

I move to the bedroom doorway, pulling it nearly closed behind me. "Yes, what is it?"

"Good news. The plows have made significant progress overnight. We expect the main access road to be cleared enough for staff vehicles and essential deliveries by late afternoon today."

The information should bring relief. Instead, my stomach twists with sudden anxiety. "Today? You're certain?"

"Barring any new complications." Pride colors his voice. "The boys have been working around the clock. Thought you'd want to know since I understand there's a big wedding happening soon."

"Yes, thank you." I end the call and stand motionless in the dim cabin, processing the implications.

The roads are opening. Staff will arrive today. The wedding machine will lurch into motion. The peaceful bubble we've existed in for days will burst, replaced by the chaotic reality of a compressed timeline and a mountain of logistics.

My pulse quickens, my mind racing through everything that must happen in a precise sequence. We've lost critical setup days. The new venue needs a complete transformation. The menu changes require chef consultation. The floral deliveries will arrive without proper staging time. The?—

"Morning." Lucas's voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts.

He stands in the bedroom doorway, sleep-rumpled and unfairly attractive in a faded T-shirt and flannel pants. His hair sticks up at odd angles, and stubble darkens his jaw. The casual intimacy of seeing him this way—guard down, defenses absent—sends an unwelcome flutter through my chest.

"The roads are clearing." I gesture with my phone, my voice sounding strained even to my ears. "The sheriff says staff and deliveries can get through by late afternoon."

"That's good news." Lucas nods, moving toward the kitchen, infuriatingly calm.

"Good news?" I follow him, incredulous at his reaction. "Lucas, we have a day and a half to execute a complete wedding. We've lost nearly all our prep time. The venue has changed. The menu has changed. Nothing is going according to plan."

"Plans change. We adapt." He fills the coffee maker, movements practiced, seemingly unconcerned by my mounting panic.

"How can you be so calm about this?" I pace the small kitchen, energy coursing through me with nowhere to go. "This wedding could make or break your resort's reputation. Not to mention my entire career."

"Panicking won't help either of those things." He turns to face me, leaning against the counter as the coffee begins to brew. "We've done the hard part—solving the major problems. Now we just need to execute and follow through."

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