Preston hadn’t realized how much he needed to see his friends until they showed up quite literally out of nowhere.

He’d been feeling sorry for himself, wanting a woman who was so at odds—pulling him in then pushing him away, welcoming him into her arms and body before going cold and shutting him out. He wanted her so much that it hurt, wanted her in ways he’d never wanted any other woman before—not just physically, but all those little things people started to want whenever emotions got a little too real. Wanted to spend all the time in the world with her, hold her hand, take her to dinner and the movies, spend Sunday afternoons snuggled in front of a fire, weekends at the beach…

Wanted all of her, as much as he could get, in as many ways as possible. And yes, of course, having her physically—the intimacy between them, was phenomenal. It blew his mind every time he got to touch her, each time she relaxed and allowed him to bring her pleasure. But it wasn’t everything.

He wanted to possess her heart, not just her body.

And yet, at the suggestion they continue this between them beyond the walls of the resort, she’d clammed up and locked herself in the bathroom. It wasn’t really the best sign that she returned his feelings in any way.

Dejectedly, he got up and dressed, then headed downstairs, both to give her some space, and also to perhaps call the detective again, see how much progress they’d made bulldozing their way through. He was going a bit stir crazy trapped up here on this mountain, and he was desperate for the opportunity to show Ashley how it could be back in the real world, how perfect they’d be together. He couldn’t do that if they never made it out of here, especially with a potential murderer on the loose.

He never made it to the phone, because as he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned into the foyer, he caught sight of Declan and Drew strolling towards him from the opposite side.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Declan said, while Preston stared at him like a suffocating fish.

“What—”

“Helicopter,” Drew helpfully supplied, stepping up to him and clapping him on the shoulder. “My pilot finally agreed to locate his balls and bring us over. You okay? You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Preston mumbled, but the urge to tell them everything—to let it all spill out into the air between them, dead bodies and mysterious disappearances and the girl who’d stolen his heart and gone cold on him—was overwhelming, but he was saved from his impulses by Cami suddenly tripping her way down the stairs in her high heeled boots, face etched in worry.

“I don’t know what’s going on with Ashley, but she wasn’t making any sense to me. I mean—murder?”

Drew shot him an alarmed look. “Murder?”

“Yeah,” Cami said, reaching the ground floor and coming over to them. “She was talking to the Xings about someone’s dead body and an escape and—wait,” she said, stopping suddenly and glancing around. “Where’s Mags?”

“Bathroom,” Declan supplied vaguely, and then, “Whose dead body?”

Preston sighed. “It’s a long story, man. Why don’t you head down to the kitchen and find the whiskey—I’ll go get Ashley.”

“She’s on the roof,” Cami said, waving a hand, before falling into step with her husband as they headed to the kitchen.

Preston stared after her, his stomach lurching. “What—the roof?” But Cami was already in full-on gossip mode, chattering away to Drew about what she’d heard, while Declan muttered something about finding where Maggie had disappeared to.

The roof. What the hell—

The helicopter. Jesus. Was she making some kind of dramatic escape?

He practically flew up the stairs, through the second floor corridor to the staff staircase, then up the three flights of stairs until he burst out onto the roof and saw Ashley standing there, hand shielding her eyes against the wind, as she watched the helicopter take off into the sky. Through the window, just visible, Preston could make out the face of Chen Xing.

“Ashley?”

She startled and spun around, hand to her chest. “Jesus, people need to stop doing that!” she snapped, before taking a couple of calming breaths as the whomp-whomp of the helicopter faded into the distance.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, anger filtering into his tone, because for a few heart stopping moments he’d thought she’d flown away from him, disappearing without saying goodbye, as if the thought of facing him anymore was too much of a challenge to bear.

As if she’d had enough of him.

“The Xings,” she said, rubbing her arms against the cold. “They had to go. I’ll explain later.”

“Jesus, I don’t care,” he said, before grabbing her and sweeping her into his arms. “I thought you’d left me.”

She seemed startled by the abrupt hug, by the strain in his voice, and she didn’t move for several moments, stiff in his hold. Then she brought her arms around him and leaned into his chest, letting out a long breath. “Without telling you?” she asked, and he kissed the top of her head, feeling his heartbeat return to its normal pace.

“I just thought…”

She turned her head, pressed her face into his shirt, hands gripping tightly at his back. “You’re an idiot,” she mumbled, and he smiled, because he could hear the affection in her voice and that was more than enough for him, at least for now. He could work with affection.

After Ashley filled the police in on everything she’d discovered in the course of her investigation, it was a quick series of events that followed. No one had been able to leave for a few hours, each of them taken to separate rooms and questioned, and the truth of everything came out before dawn.

Larry’s body was found hastily buried in a snowbank just outside of the service entrance.

Frank Germaine, real name Frank McMahon, was apparently wanted in five states for fraud and theft. There were a few moments of panic when it was revealed that Frank had gone missing—running to save himself, but getting no farther than the snowed-over back courtyard. The cops got him, arrested him, and presumed him to be the murderer when his handwriting matched up on the notes. There’d been no sign of anyone hiding in the basement, an M or otherwise.

The Fregel sisters were released after questioning, claiming each other as an alibi, and Preston watched Ashley’s frown as she observed them going about the process of leaving, sensing her frustration. The lighter hadn’t reappeared, and Maude gave him an earache about it for ten full minutes before she disappeared into the pre-dawn silence of night. And the cops seemed to choose to ignore Karen’s claims that she’d seen someone else at the resort—no one else could confirm it, and a preliminary search did not reveal any traces of another person on the property.

The Xings were gone, of course, but Ashley explained to the police that they had an urgent family matter to attend, and they’d promised to make themselves available for questioning later. The cops seemed satisfied with the answer for the time being.

Ashley believed there was more to this case than Frank killing Larry for money, and Preston could tell, just by looking at her, that this was far from over for her. But she would have to let it go now that it was in the cops’ hands, and he rallied the rest of the gang to distract her.

“We came here to ski, right?” Cami said, standing at the door as the sun came up, waiting for the cars to make it through the path created by the bulldozer. “So why don’t we ski?”

Ashley, blinking out of her distraction, stared over at her. “There’s been a bit of a storm, Cam,” she said. “Don’t know if you noticed.”

Maggie and Declan laughed, while Cami scowled playfully over at her friend. “I know that,” she said grumpily. “But it’s fine around the other resort. The blizzard really only hit this side of the mountain.”

Preston wanted to pull Ashley into him again, hug her close against the cold, just like Declan was doing with Maggie, and how Drew had his arm slung around Cami’s shoulders. They were couples, natural and free, and he was powerfully jealous of them for an instant, the feel of it piercing through his chest like a shard of ice. He didn’t have the luxury of being so public with Ashley yet—if at all.

“Still can’t believe there was a murder here,” Maggie said, shuddering. “This whole time, there was a body hidden somewhere in the snow around here, just outside.”

Preston still hadn’t worked out how Frank alone managed to drag the body out back, dig a big hole, bury the body, cover the tracks and the blood, and sneak back in—all without being seen, and with a blizzard battering him.

“Either one of you could’ve been next,” Cami helpfully added, and Declan shook his head.

“Don’t say things like that.”

“It’s true, though. We left them here locked up with a murderer.”

Ashley sighed. “You had no way of knowing that,” she said. “No one did.”

“Still, though…”

It was a relief when the cars finally showed up and they could have a moment’s peace from these depressing thoughts, and Preston couldn’t deny that he was happy to see the Alcott Resort disappear in the rear view mirror. He still had his vision for this place, but after he’d had some time away from it, shook off the image of Larry Rohan’s body sprawled and bloody in the middle of his foyer.

His main focus for the foreseeable future would be Ashley, and even though she’d chosen to ride in a car with Maggie rather than him, or that they’d be home in two days, living their separate lives, it didn’t discourage him.

He still had forty-eight hours to show her he was the right man for her, no matter what he had to do.