The Bozeman Yellowstone International Airport wasn't much to look at, at least not in the way New York or LAX punched you in the face with concrete, glass, and rush-hour energy. No, Bozeman greeted you with something far more subtle: pine-scented air, wooden beams arching like a high-end ski lodge, and windows so many damn windows framing snow-dusted mountains in the distance like a postcard someone forgot to Photoshop.
Grayson stepped off the jetbridge, the cool, crisp Montana air hitting him even through the sealed walkway. It smelled different here. Cleaner. Earthy. As if fall was more honest in this part of the world.
His phone buzzed before both feet even hit the carpet, then buzzed again. And again.
By the time he entered the terminal, he was bombarded with emails, Slack notifications, and group text pings from his executive team. George, his faithful shadow and human calendar, followed behind him, already reciting his rundown with the precision of a symphony conductor.
"You've got pushbacks from the European side, two conference calls are requesting reschedules. One legal review flagged something in the new property pitch. Oh and your mother called. Twice."
"George," Grayson said, eyes still scanning arrivals, "hold that for three hours if you can. I need two things first: find Olivia. Then find a hotel. I'm assuming this town has at least one."
"Of course, sir," George replied with not a single ounce of sarcasm, swiping and typing with robotic efficiency. "I'll secure the best option."
Grayson didn't answer because his focus was already on her.
He scrolled to the most important conversation on his phone.
Grayson: Hey, beautiful. You owe me an explanation.
Grayson: I'm boarding now. Touchdown in 4-ish hours. I'll text you when I get off.
He hadn't checked his phone once during the flight. It stayed in his pocket—on purpose. He knew that if he texted her, that would be it. No work would get done. No paperwork reviewed. No clear thoughts. Just her.
Olivia: Omg, you're coming!
Olivia: That's amazing. We should be arriving back-to-back from each other.
Olivia: I do owe you an explanation. I promise.
Olivia: I just made it.
Olivia: I checked flights and you should be here in like 45 minutes.
Olivia: Instead of coming back, I'll just wait.
Olivia: I'm going to book a hotel, so don't bother. My treat since I invited you.
He was just about to call when another text popped through.
Olivia: I see you just landed. I'm at the front of the exit by baggage claim.
Grayson's pulse jumped. He picked up his pace, George trailing with unbothered agility.
They passed through the terminal archway, where the stream of passengers naturally divided into two routes left toward rental cars and right toward baggage claim. Grayson took the right.
The buzz of quiet voices, the rhythmic thud of luggage wheels, and the faint scent of brewing coffee drifted through the space. Grayson's boots echoed faintly on the polished stone floor as his gaze swept the crowd.
And then he saw her.
Olivia was standing near the glass exit doors, framed by sunlight spilling through like God himself had planned the moment. She wore a turquoise knit sweater, slightly oversized, hanging off one shoulder, and jeans that hugged her hips in a way that made his mouth dry. Her hair was up, a messy bun, slightly crooked, wisps falling over her cheek. She was on the phone, smiling and frowning at the same time.
He slowed his steps and took a breath. His chest ached with how much he missed her.
He walked around the far side of the baggage belt, closing in quietly from behind. As he neared, her voice came clearer.
"Yeah, I'm here. So make your way over. I have a little surprise for you," she spoke cryptically
Grayson watched the pause as she was listening to a response—a beat.
"Shut it, it's not that!" she exclaimed.
She laughed, and he felt it everywhere.
"Just make your way over here, loser." She said, still giggling.
That's when he slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her back into him, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Olivia tensed for half a second before she turned just enough to see it was him, and relaxed like an exhale she didn't know she was holding.
"Okay, see you in a few," she murmured into the phone before clicking off.
Then she turned to face him fully. And kissed him.
No hesitation. No caution. Just full-throttle, heart-in-her-mouth kissing him. Her hands gripped his jacket, pulling him in, and he responded without thinking, his lips moving with hers, slow but deep, a low sound rumbling in his chest when she moaned softly into the kiss.
God, he wanted to touch her hair. Feel it. Anchor himself in it. But he kept his hands where they were on her waist, holding her steady, grounding them both.
She pulled back eventually, cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen, breath quick. Her eyes darted around.
"I can't believe I just did that," she whispered, cheeks still red as she turned and reached for her carry-on.
"Umm. You made it safe, I see," she said, voice softer now.
Grayson smirked, his eyes still on her lips. "I did."
Olivia turned slightly, noticing George behind him, still attached to his iPad like it was an extension of his arm.
"Hello, George. I see he vollentold you to come, too," she said with a grin.
George didn't even look up. "Yes, Miss Olivia. It's always a pleasure."
Grayson chuckled and finally reached for her bag. "Come on, Little Fox. Let's find that hotel of yours."
And maybe if the universe was on his side, he'd finally get that explanation.
"Well, that'll be great. My brother's on his way," Olivia said, adjusting the strap of her bag as they stood near the baggage claim.
Grayson's eyes narrowed slightly, catching the shift in her tone.
He tilted his head, smirking. "Why do I feel like there's a but hiding in that sentence?"
She winced—just slightly—and offered a sheepish smile. "I haven't actually told my brother about you."
His brow arched. "Umm… that's going to be a wonderful introduction."
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, the words rushing out in a tumble. "I didn't think you were actually going to come. I didn't want to tell him if it wasn't certain. Then you did come, and I'd literally just gotten off the phone with him and then boom, there you are and—"
"Hey, hey," Grayson interrupted, reaching out and brushing a thumb over her shoulder. "Little Fox. It's okay. I've been in boardrooms with hostile takeovers and billion-dollar mergers. I can handle a surprise sibling meet-and-greet."
She visibly relaxed at his calm tone.
"Great," she said, breathing out. Then with a teasing smile: "Because my parents will be here at the end of the week."
His lips parted, brows rising. "Ohhh. Meeting the parents, huh? We're at that stepping-stage already?"
"NO! Well… yes. But only out of technicalities," she stammered, face flushing pink.
He chuckled and pulled her into a hug, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. She smelled like peppermint gum and Honescuckle lotion. Familiar and soothing. Dangerous in its effect.
"I'm just messing with you," he murmured into her hair. "Though… I will need some compensation for my time."
She tensed a fraction in his arms. She looked up as if she was about to argue.
But a voice called out sharp, familiar.
"Liv!"
She stepped out of Grayson's embrace and turned.
Grayson followed her gaze.
The guy striding toward them looked like he'd just stepped out of a Patagonia ad—casually rugged, with tousled chestnut hair and ice-blue eyes that were alert and knowing. His gray sweater hugged lean muscle beneath a black bomber jacket, and his jeans were worn just enough to say I work hard but don't try too hard. There was something about him that was easy, magnetic, and unbothered by attention.
He was handsome in that quiet, unassuming way that made you realize too late that he'd been the most interesting person in the room.
Olivia walked to him with a wide smile and threw her arms around his neck.
"Took you long enough," she teased.
"Not that you'd notice," her brother replied smoothly, returning the hug. "You seem to be entertaining yourself just fine."
His gaze lifted toward Grayson, not with suspicion, but with curiosity.
"Um, yes. Well, surprise," Olivia said, already rambling. "I brought my boyfriend. Sorry, it's last minute."
Liam's eyes flicked back to her, amused. "Sis, chill-lax. It's cool. You're doing a huge favor for me. Thank you again."
She nodded, relieved.
"Okay, then," she said, motioning toward Grayson and George. "Let me introduce you—this is Grayson Steel. And that's his assistant, George."
Grayson stepped forward and extended a hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Liam."
"Likewise," Liam said, firm handshake returned.
George gave a brief nod. "Good to meet you, sir."
"Alright," Liam clapped his hands together. "Let's not hang out here. I've got about an hour and a half before dinner prep kicks off. I can drive you to your hotel if that works?"
"Yeah, that'd be great," Olivia said. "We're staying at the Gallatin River Lodge. Do you know where that is?"
Liam gave her a look like she just asked if the sky was blue. "Livly… this is my town. Let's go."
He reached for her suitcase and headed toward the exit.
Grayson turned to George, who was still quietly typing.
"You said we're staying a week," Grayson said. "Secure us a rental car. Then book yourself a room at the same lodge."
George nodded and peeled away, luggage in tow.
Grayson grabbed his own bag and looked back at Olivia.
She was staring at him with tired, honest eyes. "Wow. I didn't even think that far ahead. It's been a long twenty-four hours."
He could see it on her. Not just the fatigue, but the weight of whatever she wasn't saying. Not yet. He didn't push.
He just gave her a soft smile. "Let's get this going."
As they walked toward the car, Grayson glanced at Liam. "So… any chance you've got embarrassing stories about Olivia? Maybe a few photos? Preferably from her middle school years?"
Liam grinned. "Oh yeah. I've got stories. And plenty of photos. Some at the restaurant-slash-house. You're in for a treat."
"Liam Jonathan Webber, don't you dare!" Olivia shrieked from behind them.
Grayson laughed, already enjoying this far more than he expected.
"I can start with stories and move to photos later," Liam said over his shoulder.
"I swear, if you mention one story—"
But the two men just kept walking, grinning like they'd known each other longer than ten minutes.
By the time they reached the car, Grayson was already thinking… maybe this week wouldn't be so bad.
Maybe if he played it right, it could change everything.
The Gallatin River Lodge was nestled between frost-tipped cottonwoods and the golden shimmer of grasslands bending with the breath of oncoming winter. A stone chimney puffed a ribbon of smoke into the pale sky, and the scent of pinewood and something rich—like cinnamon and cedar—hung in the air. The lodge looked less like a hotel and more like someone's dream of Montana: rustic elegance with deep mahogany doors, handcrafted iron fixtures, and leather armchairs that begged you to sink in and stay awhile.
Inside, the warmth hit immediately. The scent of fresh-baked bread and pine-clean air mingled in the lodge's polished log lobby. Floor-to-ceiling windows poured sunlight onto deep red rugs, and a crackling fireplace offered comfort from the bite of October air.
The front desk clerk was a cheerful older woman named Nadine, who chatted about trout sightings, maple-glazed salmon, and how she once met Garth Brooks while hiking.
Grayson stood back, arms crossed, watching Olivia attempt to keep a straight face as she handed over her credit card.
He leaned close, his voice all devilish charm. "You know, I could've covered this."
She blushed, eyes flitting up to meet his. "It was my idea. My treat."
His smirk deepened. "I'll find a way to repay you."
She turned away fast enough to hide the color climbing her neck.
"I'm just going to drop off my things," she said, turning to Liam.
"Sure thing," Liam said, glancing at his watch. "We've got about forty-five minutes before I have to head out, so if you want to change, now's the time."
She paused mid-step. "Still black-and-white attire?"
"Yup. I hope you brought some," he said with a smirk that implied doubt.
Her offended scoff was dramatic. "Liam, I helped you design the damn restaurant."
"My bad, sis. Then hustle up if you still want me to feed you later."
"Yeah, yeah," she said, waving him off.
Liam stayed behind to chat with someone he recognized in the lobby while Olivia led Grayson down the hall.
They reached her room the Trout Lodge Room and stepped inside.
It was quiet. Serene. The room had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a private patio and a still, glimmering lake ringed by distant pine trees. A king bed covered in a thick, ivory duvet sat against a timber wall, and a reading nook with a vintage armchair faced the fireplace. The air smelled faintly of citrus wood polish and lavender.
The door clicked shut behind them.
And then he was on her.
Grayson didn't wait. He kissed her, deep and hungry, walking her backward toward the bed. She responded instantly, her hands yanking off his coat, fingers clawing at his shirt buttons, lips parting under his with a gasp.
He tasted her mint and need and kissed deeper, his tongue greedy and sure. She moaned into his mouth, hands pulling, hips arching as his body pressed into hers. She landed on the bed with a soft bounce, her sweater pushed up, and her lace bra exposed.
His mouth moved to her chest. The heat of him made her gasp, and the cool air of the room only sharpened her sensitivity as he suckled one nipple, then the other. She arched, mouth open, breath uneven.
"Grayson… ahh…"
He growled low in his throat, already hard in his jeans. He knew they didn't have time, but his control was slipping. He kissed her harder, hands sliding down to the waistband of her jeans, unbuttoning.
She helped, shimmying them down, legs kicking as he reached for her lace panties—damp already. His fingers dipped beneath.
"Grayson…" she whimpered, desperate.
Her body jolted when he touched her, and the sensation wrecked him. He wanted her—all of her—right now.
"God, your brother is going to hate me," he muttered. "Please don't look at me, Little Fox…"
She opened her mouth, but then he kissed her again as his fingers slid inside slick and slow, and her hips bucked against him.
"Fuck," he growled.
And just like that, he tore himself away.
Grayson stumbled backward, breathing hard, fists clenched at his sides. His eyes were glassy, his self-restraint hanging by threads.
He licked his fingers absently.
Olivia sat up, dazed. "Grayson…"
"Olivia," he said through gritted teeth, "if you care about your brother's restaurant, you'll get up. Now. Because if you don't, you're not going to make it there at all."
Her eyes widened with realization. "Fuck…" she whispered. She leaned back, breath catching, then stood, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm going to take a shower. Cool off. Change."
Grayson nodded but couldn't speak. He walked to the sliding door and opened it, letting the crisp Montana air slap him clean.
The patio looked out over the silver-laced lake. A few leaves danced across the wooden deck. He closed his eyes and breathed deep—smoke from the fireplace below mixing with pine and the scent of her still clinging to him.
"Give me strength," he whispered.
His phone rang.
He moved back inside, digging into his coat pocket. "Steel here."
"Sir," George's voice came steady, "I've picked up the car and am currently in the lobby with Mr. Webber. I've booked my room as well. Just a reminder—you have your meeting with Unlined Inc. in twenty minutes."
"Thank you, George. We'll be right out."
Just then, Olivia stepped out of the bathroom in a towel.
Grayson's eyes devoured her. "Little Fox…"
She smirked. "I'm tempting you. I just need my suitcase."
"That's where you're wrong," he said, voice low. "Being around you is always my temptation."
She blushed, grabbing her suitcase and sliding into black lace panties while trying to maintain a casual conversation.
"Umm… yes. So. I will actually be working at the restaurant. You sure you want to tag along?"
Grayson leaned against the wall, watching her every move like she was a painting in motion. "As fun as it sounds, I've still got meetings today. I moved them to Zoom."
She paused, guilt coloring her expression. "I'm sorry you had to change your schedule."
"Olivia," he said, firm but softly, "it's not a big deal. I've done it before, and I'll do it again. For you? Always."
She smiled. "Well… thank you. If I haven't said that yet."
She disappeared into the bathroom again, water running, and the sound of her brushing her teeth muffling her response when he called out.
"You also haven't said another thing to me…"
"Huh? I can't hear you. The water's too loud."
"Mhm. Sure," he said, smirking. "I'll hear it again. Over and over."
When she emerged, she was fully dressed—black fitted pants and a satin blouse open just enough to raise his blood pressure. Her hair flowed in soft waves. She was everything: sharp, stunning, and impossible not to stare at.
Grayson clenched his fists. Good thoughts in, bad thoughts out…
She reached for her trench coat.
"I'll walk you out," he offered, adjusting himself subtly as he stood.
"Sure," she said with a smile.
When they returned to the lobby, George and Liam were chatting casually in leather chairs.
"I'm ready," Olivia said.
Liam stood. "You clean up nicely," he said with a teasing grin.
"Thanks. You should take pointers," she shot back.
"Ouch, sis." He smiled and pulled a $20 bill from his wallet, handing it to George.
Grayson raised an eyebrow. "What's this?"
Liam shrugged. "I bet George, you'd be late or call me to say you'd be dropped off later. He said you'd be out in fifteen. You nailed it."
Olivia rolled her eyes. "Liam! Rude! And how was that even an option?!"
"You two disappeared so fast, I didn't know if I'd see you again."
Grayson couldn't help but laugh.
"Alright," Olivia said. "I'm heading out. We close around 11:30, so I'll be back a little after 1."
"I'll come get you," Grayson offered easily.
"You don't have to wait up—"
"I'm not seventy, Olivia. I have work to do, and some of my clients live in different time zones. It's fine."
She studied his face, then nodded. She believed him.
She hugged him and then leaned up to kiss him softly, briefly, intimately. "Thank you," she whispered. He watched her walk toward the lot.
When she was out of view, he turned to George.
"Let's go."
George led him to the room, which was already prepped for the meeting. The laptop was open, water was ready, and files were arranged. Grayson sat, pulled in a breath, and focused. Or at least tried to. No matter how sharp his mind was, one thing was already clear. Today… he would be distracted by her.
**********************
Grayson adjusted his headset and leaned back in the leather desk chair, eyes focused but expression unreadable. The fireplace in the corner of the lodge room crackled softly, casting a flickering orange glow across the ceiling. His second meeting of the day had just wrapped—efficient, on-point, mutually satisfying.
This third one… not so much.
The video call displayed seven different camera boxes, mostly Japanese execs from the Kashiwagi Group, along with two members of Grayson's board. English and Japanese volleyed back and forth in a slow, formal rhythm. A translator was present, but the nuances were piling up. They'd been circling the same territory for over twenty minutes—opinions exchanged, hypotheticals raised, but no finalization.
Because at the heart of it… Grayson wasn't sure.
The Japan branch was ambitious. A big leap. And though he loved the idea of expansion, the risks were enormous. It wasn't just logistics it was culture, language, leadership style, time zones. That's why the deal was stuck.
And it didn't help that his mind kept wandering.
Her mouth. Her moan. Her soft skin under his fingers.
He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly through his nose as someone from the Kashiwagi side proposed a revised acquisition clause. He nodded, pretending to listen, but his attention was slipping.
Then his phone buzzed beside the laptop.
A text preview flashed across the screen. Daniel.
Grayson tensed.
Shit. Boston. He had completely forgotten. He reached for the phone.
Daniel: What time are you flying in? If it's early enough, we can go play b-ball and I can whoop your ass for old time sakes. LOL!Daniel: You really need to stop working so much, IE, and respond to me.Daniel:[GIF of a kid fake crying, screaming "Oh my God!"]
Grayson stifled a smirk, glancing up at the screen of suits still discussing clause language. He tapped out a reply:
Grayson: You know you're ridiculous.Grayson: I own this company. I have to work to keep it running.Grayson: Hey, something came up. I can't make it to Boston.
He barely had time to slide the phone back when it started buzzing in his hand. Daniel.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath.
He tapped Accept, then quickly toggled over to mute his laptop mic and address the conference screen.
"Kashiwagi gurūpu-sama, soshite yakuin no minasama, kaigi o tanshuku sa sete itadaki mōshiwakegozaimasen. Sūjitsugo ni, sōhō ga gōi dekiru yoriyoi sentakushi o motte saido kaigi o hirakimashou." (Kashiwagi Group and my board members, excuse me for shortening this meeting. Let's reconvene in a few days with better options that both parties can agree on.)
He gave a brief bow to the screen as he ended the call. They'd reconvene with more clarity in a few days.
He closed the laptop. The second it clicked shut, he exhaled.
"George," he called out without turning.
"Yes, sir?" came the smooth response from the sitting area near the wet bar.
"How long until the next meeting?"
"Forty-two minutes. It's with Wallace and Donnelly. The pharmaceutical finalization," George replied crisply. "I've also scheduled a marketing strategy session with Ms. Steel and the board for tomorrow, 2 p.m. Eastern, so 1 p.m. Mountain. Your calendar's been updated."
"Good," Grayson said, rising and rolling his shoulders.
"And I've heard from Mr. Webber that the restaurant here is exceptional. I can have something brought to your room."
"Do it. And George… set a meeting with Belle tomorrow morning. I think her team can crack a fresh angle for Kashiwagi. She's the best damn marketing agent in the U.S."
George gave a short nod. "Already on it."
Grayson didn't respond. He was already walking toward his bedroom and out onto the stone patio, phone in hand.
He raised it to his ear and said dryly, "Sorry about that. Now, where were we?"
"Oh, you were just about to start pleading for us to remain best friends," Daniel's voice came through, cheerful and sarcastic.
Grayson smirked. "I don't think that's what I was about to do."
He leaned against the wooden railing. The stars overhead were beginning to dust the darkening sky, and the chill in the air bit at the edge of his sleeves. It smelled like dry pine and fresh earth.
Daniel sighed theatrically. "What do you mean, you're not going to do that? I'm your best friend, man. You're skipping my housewarming party. You promised. How could you not throw yourself down in shame and beg forgiveness?"
"I never promised. I said I'd try."
Daniel scoffed. "Which, from you, is a promise."
Grayson shrugged, though Daniel couldn't see it. "Maybe. But I can't make it."
"You're telling me this last minute?"
"I didn't plan it. Something came up. Something I needed to handle… personally."
A beat of silence passed.
"…Oh," Daniel said, tone shifting from joking to curious. "Well, I guess that's a good reason. I mean, you never not show up. Still… I'm not happy about it."
Grayson stared out over the lake, his breath a soft cloud in the cold air. "I know. But believe me this one's worth it."