Page 127 of Perfect Satisfaction

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?” I demand, standing next to the bed naked.

“Nothing. Just interesting. Good to know. Now get that luscious ass in gear. I’ll head out in a few and pick up my Jeep.”

Sauntering out of the master, naked as the day I was born, I call over my shoulder, “Do I need a passport?”

Much to my surprise, he yells, “Not a bad idea. Never know where we’ll end up.”

Now, I’m intrigued.

Very.

About ten hours later, the weather is definitely cooler. We’ve driven through New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts and are now in Maine.

The backroads of Maine.

“A little ways back, I saw a sign for a town called Mooseberry, but I have no clue if that’s where we’re actually at.”

Arek flashes me a charming grin before admitting, “It’s where my grandfather’s cabin is.”

Faintly, I repeat, “Grandfather? Cabin?”

Reaching for my hand, he holds it against his leg. “You’ll see. It’s just around the bend ahead.”

When Arek says that, he means it literally. The Jeep begins to rattle as we turn down a rutted road. He curses, “I told Gramps to get the road paved this summer.”

“Maybe it’s to ward off the neighbors.”

“There are exactly sixty-two people in this town if we include you.”

I gape at him. “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“And you grew up here?”

“Not too far from here. Damn, Gramps. Now it’s going to cost an arm and a leg to get the road paved this late in the season?” Arek parks his Jeep and leaps out.

“Late? It’s only August.”

He yanks the door open. “It’s late for up here. The first snow generally falls in September.”

“Truly?”

“It’s a pain in the...”

“That’s incredible! That means hot chocolate and blankets. Roaring fires and reading. God, Arek. Look at the stars!” My voice turns dreamy.

He presses a kiss to the side of my head. “Gramps is going to love you.” Under his breath he mutters, “More than he already does.”

I’m too entranced by the night sky to hear him. I just know I’m being guided forward and up a set of stairs. If I were asked to describe the house, I couldn’t do it.

Then the door opens.

A man with a beard that looks like he started growing it at the time of Moses steps out.

“Arek? What are you doing here?”