Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
GRAHAM
I watched her through the window, half-hidden behind the curtain like a total creeper.
Rose Gracen stood on the porch of the main house, rigid in dark jeans and a forest-green button-down that made her red hair look like a warning flare. Waiting for her guests. For my team. For the awkward moment when I’d have to face her again after walking in on her in a towel.
The van turned onto the gravel drive right on time, three o’clock sharp, kicking up a dusty cloud that hung in the sunlight. Dex was driving, probably reminding everyone one last time. Use Graham. Just Graham. Not Fraser Kincaid.
My gut clenched.
Ten years of performing for the camera had blurred the line between Graham and Fraser Kincaid. Between the person and the brand. Between reality and the version of me fifty million people expected to exist.
For the next two weeks, I just wanted to be Graham.
The van rolled to a stop. Rose straightened her shoulders, and every trace of the woman who’d screamed at me in her cabin vanished behind something smooth and professional.
I took a breath and stepped outside.
Time to face the music.
Van doors swung open and my team spilled out. Jamie bounced on her toes, phone already in her hand, framing a shot of the mountains before her feet hit the gravel. Olivia checked her tablet, because Olivia could probably run a small country off a spreadsheet.
And Dex—
Dex took one look at me and narrowed his eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, voice low enough that only I could hear.
“Tell you later,” I muttered, forcing my mouth into something close to a smile as Rose approached.
“Welcome to Gracen Ranch.” Her voice was warm and practiced, the perfect host pitch. “I’m Rose Gracen, the owner. I hope you had a good drive from Denver?”
Dex stepped forward, all charm and efficiency. “Gorgeous drive, thank you. I’m Dexter Munro, creative director for Highland Adventure. This is our team: Olivia Gardner, operations manager; and Jamie Watts, social media coordinator.”
Rose nodded to each of them, shaking hands, making eye contact. Polished. In control.
Then her eyes landed on me.
The warmth she’d been giving the others cut off like a tap.
“And Graham,” Dex continued, oblivious. “Our, uh… he handles the on-the-ground stuff.”
Her eyes held mine for a beat too long. I could see her deciding exactly how much of the cabin incident to acknowledge in front of four strangers.
“We’ve met,” she said. Two words. Flat as a closed door.
I opened my mouth, desperate to apologize again, to say something that might crack that composure.
She turned away before I could speak, addressing the group instead. “Let me show you around the property. We’ll get you settled in your cabins, and then you can rest before dinner at six.”
The tour was thorough. Rose led us through the main house with its soaring ceilings and stone fireplace, pointing out the dining area, the library stocked with books about local history and horses, the wraparound porch that looked straight into the Rockies.
She moved through the rooms the way someone moves through a space they were personally proud of.
Touching doorframes, adjusting a stack of brochures on a table, the kind of micro-adjustments that said mine.
My brain was already framing shots. The fireplace with late-afternoon light raking across the stone. The library shelves, worn spines catching golden warmth. The porch, wide and quiet, mountains so close they looked painted on.
“The ranch sits on sixty acres,” she explained as we stepped outside. “Thirty acres of pasture, fifteen of forest, and the rest divided between the buildings, arena, and trails. We’re bordered by national forest to the north, which gives us access to some spectacular riding routes.”
She said it casually, but sixty acres was a serious operation for one person. The fencing alone, the water infrastructure, the maintenance. This wasn’t a hobby. This was a life.
I hung back, letting the others ask questions. Tried to disappear into the group. Didn’t work. Every time Rose turned to point out a building or a trailhead, her eyes skipped over me like I was a dead pixel on an otherwise perfect screen.
She knew exactly where I was at every moment. She just refused to look.
The cabins were scattered across the property, far enough apart to offer privacy, close enough to the main house for convenience. Timber and stone, rustic on the outside, clean and comfortable inside.
Rose stopped by a small mounted box beside a cabin door and pulled out her phone.
“Cabins use smart locks,” she said, brisk, like she was reading off a script she’d memorized a thousand times.
“You each have your own code for your assigned cabin. It’ll work on the keypad and through the app link you were emailed.
If you have issues, tell me or my manager, Denise. Don’t reset anything yourselves.”
She held up a printed card and started handing them out.
“Olivia, you’re in Cabin One. Jamie, Cabin Two.”
Then she looked at me for the first time since the tour began.
“Graham. You’re in Cabin Three.”
She didn’t hold my eyes.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the code card carefully, like it might detonate.
Our fingers didn’t touch.
Dex was in Cabin Four. He accepted his card and followed Rose as she pointed out the emergency numbers, the trailhead boundaries, and the very specific rule about when and where horses could and couldn’t be fed.
By the time she was done, she’d managed to be polite, competent, and completely sealed off. A woman running her property the way a general runs a base. Nothing personal, nothing extra, nothing wasted.
It was impressive as hell.
It also made me want to find the one question that would make her answer with something real instead of rehearsed.
Stop it. You walked into her cabin. She owes you nothing.
Dex cornered me the moment we were out of earshot, dragging me into Cabin Three and shutting the door.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded, pacing the small space. “You look like death warmed over, and she’s looking at you like you kicked her dog. I thought the plan was to fly under the radar, not piss off our host on day one.”
I dropped onto the edge of the bed and scrubbed a hand over my face. “I fucked up, Dex.”
“No shit.” He stopped pacing, arms crossed. “How, exactly?”
The whole miserable story spilled out of me: arriving early, looking for the main house, spotting what I thought was a guest cabin, the unlocked door, Rose coming out of the bathroom, the towel, the screaming.
Dex’s expression cycled through disbelief to horror to a sort of grim amusement.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Mate. You walked into the owner’s private cabin?”
“Aye.” The mortification was still fresh enough to taste. “Not a guest cabin. Her place.”
“She could’ve sent you packing. Sent all of us packing.”
“I know.” I stared at my hands. “And I’d deserve it.”
Dex was quiet for a moment, processing. Then he exhaled and dropped into the chair.
“We really need this, Graham. The Mongolia special dropped our subscriber count for the first time in five years. Sponsors are twitchy. Olivia worked hard to set up this retreat, remote enough that you could breathe, real enough to make good content. And this place—” He gestured toward the window, toward the mountains beyond. “This is perfect.”
I couldn’t let my mistake ruin it.
“I’ll apologize again,” I said. “Properly. When she’s not ready to throw me off the property.”
“Good.” Dex ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “And you’re still not telling her who you are?”
The question hit a nerve.
“How does that help?” I snapped quietly. “Sorry I violated your privacy, but don’t worry—I’m famous?”
“It might explain why you need discretion. Why we’re here at all.”
I shook my head. “No. That makes it worse. Makes it sound like I think being Fraser Kincaid means rules don’t apply to me.”
Dex lifted an eyebrow. “But you do need special treatment. That’s the whole point of this setup. Fake company name on the booking. Me posing as the boss. All of it.”
“That’s different,” I said, standing because I couldn’t stay still with this argument in my chest. “That’s protection.”
“For you,” Dex said.
“For her too,” I shot back. “Because I’m sure she doesn’t want the attention. Because—” I stopped myself, jaw tight.
Dex studied me a beat longer, then sighed like a man who knew he wasn’t going to win this today. “Fine. But try not to make it worse, yeah?”
“I’ll try,” I said.
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Good man. I’ll go unpack. And let’s not walk in on more people.”
He left before I could respond, the door clicking shut behind him.
Graham. The team’s guy who handles the on-the-ground stuff. Normal bloke on a normal trip to a ranch in Colorado.
Christ, even I didn’t buy it.
My phone buzzed with a text from Olivia:
Rose’s admin person, Denise, is here at the main building with the paperwork. Want me to handle it?
I typed back:
No, I’ll come.
Denise was in the main house foyer when I walked in. Mid-thirties, glossy smile, hair that looked professionally blown out even in the middle of a ranch. She held a laptop under one arm and a stack of printed papers under the other.
“Ah!” She flashed her smile at me like we’d known each other for years. “I’m Denise. I handle booking, paperwork, waivers, and all the boring stuff Rose pretends she doesn’t care about.”
I paused at the word pretends, and the way she said Rose’s name. Like she was explaining a child to a substitute teacher.
“I’m Graham. Nice to meet you.”
Denise’s eyes flicked over me, appraising, and her smile widened.
“So,” she said brightly, lowering her voice like we were sharing gossip, “you’re the one who arrived early.”
My stomach dropped.
“I—” I started.
“Don’t worry,” Denise cut in, laughing lightly. “I heard what happened. Rose was… rattled.”
Rattled. That was one word for it.
“I didn’t mean to—” I began again.
Denise waved a hand as if she was dismissing a minor inconvenience. “It’s fine. Rose is just very particular about her privacy. You’ll learn.” She turned slightly and called toward the hallway, “Taylor!”
A man appeared like he’d been waiting behind a door. Late twenties, lean, wearing a hoodie. He carried a small toolkit and his phone was already open to some app screen.
“This is Taylor,” Denise said, still bright. “He handles our systems. Wi-Fi, locks, the app, all that jazz. If you have any issues with your cabin code, or the Wi-Fi, he can troubleshoot.”
Taylor’s eyes moved to me and stuck there a beat too long.
“You’re in Cabin Three,” he said.
Not a question.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Taylor lifted his phone. “You should’ve gotten the link email with the app. But the keypad works too.”
“Got it,” I said.
Rose’s voice cut through the foyer from behind us. “Denise.”
I turned.
Rose stood at the base of the stairs, arms crossed. Still in her button-down, still composed, but her eyes were sharper now. The professional warmth from the tour stripped back to something harder.
Denise’s smile went sweeter. “Rose! I’m just getting them settled.”
Rose looked at me, quick and deliberate.
“Everything okay?” she asked Denise, but her attention stayed on me.
“Everything’s fine,” Denise said quickly. “They signed the waivers. Codes are set.”
Rose shot me a look that was equal parts warning and dare. “Your lock works? As in, it actually keeps people out?”
“Yes,” I said, keeping my face deadpan. “It stays locked.”
“It was a firmware reset,” Taylor interjected from behind me, sounding aggrieved. “The system defaulted to ‘open’ during the patch installation. It won’t happen again.”
Rose didn’t look at him, but her eyes narrowed slightly at me. “Good. Because I’m not scheduling an encore towel performance.”
Jamie choked on something behind me. Olivia narrowed her eyes, which meant she was reacting very hard internally.
Then Rose turned toward the team, ticking off the rules.
“Quiet hours start at ten. Breakfast at eight. Riding assessment at nine. If you need anything, ask Kaya or Hank. You do not wander. You do not enter staff buildings.” Her eyes cut to me. “And you do not go into my cabin.”
That last one wasn’t just a rule. It was a warning.
My neck heated. “Understood.”
Rose held my eyes just long enough to make sure the message landed, then turned her back on us.
Denise stepped into the silence with a nervous laugh. “Okay! Great! Safety is important.”
Rose walked out the side door, and the room relaxed.
Jamie leaned toward Olivia and muttered, “She’s kind of terrifying.”
Dex appeared from the hallway, his eyes locking instantly on Denise. He switched on his producer charm like flipping a light switch.
“Thanks for the check-in,” he said smoothly, stepping between us. “Are we settled?”
Denise’s smile brightened, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes. If you need anything, I’m always around.” She pivoted toward me, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And Graham? Try to… tread lightly with Rose. She has old wounds.”
“Okay,” I said, keeping my face neutral. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
Denise nodded as if she’d bestowed some great kindness, then swept toward the back office. Taylor trailed behind her, clutching his toolkit.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Dex turned to me, his producer mask dropping. “That was weird,” he said, his voice low. “Tell me she didn’t just gossip about her employer.”
“She did,” I said.
Dex’s jaw tightened. “Charming.”
I stared at the side door where Rose had disappeared. The room still felt different without her in it. Not empty, exactly. Quieter in a way that had nothing to do with volume.
“What do you think happened to her?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could check it.
Dex shot me a sideways glance, heavy with meaning. “No idea. Why? You care?”
“No, of course not. Why would I?” I snapped.
Dex didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.
We both knew I was full of shite.