“Wait up, Gage. Right behind you,” a familiar male voice called to him before he could pull the door shut.

Peering back, he saw Desmond Pierce charging down the hall toward him, his tie a little askew, but other than that still looking like Mr. Hollywood with his crisp white dress shirt and no hair out of place. His aviator shades glinted under the hallway lights.

“Hiding a hangover under the shades?” Gage asked as he held the door.

“Hardly,” Desmond answered drily, pulling off the sunglasses and tucking them into his breast pocket. “Night in and night out, I get to see the way my guests let alcohol make their decisions on the casino floor. I’m probably the soberest guy you know.” He paused in the threshold to keep the door open. “Miles is right behind me. He’s talking to your security guard in the foyer. Smart move keeping the bodyguards here through the weekend with all the celebrity guests coming and going.”

Desmond owned and operated a handful of casino resorts, spending most of his time at his first operation on Lake Tahoe, close to where two other Mesa Falls Ranch owners lived—Jonah Norlander and Alec Jacobsen—both of whom were MIA this weekend.

“What about Weston?” Gage pressed the button to partially open the blinds.

“He texted Miles on our way over here.” Desmond took care of switching on the gas fireplace. “Wes climbed Trapper Peak this morning to follow April Stephens, and things must have gone well because now they’re in a cabin together somewhere on the mountain.”

Gage swore at the same time Miles, Weston’s older brother, came into view at the end of the corridor. Phone in hand, Miles jabbed at the screen while he walked.

“Wes can’t make it,” Miles announced, a hint of disdain in his voice. “He’s in love.”

“You make it sound like a communicable disease.” Gage waved him into the room and allowed the door to shut behind them before he rearmed the lock.

“The end result is the same,” Miles muttered, jamming his phone back into his jacket pocket. “Wes is quarantined for the day and can’t be with us.”

Miles ran the Rivera Ranch on the California side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, a huge spread that had once been a point of contention between the brothers. Because Weston and his father had been at loggerheads since Wes was a kid, Miles had been given responsibility for the whole thing. While that sucked for Wes, Gage always figured it hurt Miles more to bear that family responsibility alone when he could have had help. Gage knew how it felt to carry the weight of expectation that came with being an heir. He’d never wanted it.