“Midnight in the mountains. Worth a moose encounter to wake up to this view. #LuxeLifeColorado #MidnightLuxury”
The post went live, and within seconds, despite the late hour, likes began accumulating like snowflakes in a blizzard.
“Heaven is a place in Colorado,” commented @TravelDreamerXO.
“I would literally die for that view,” added @LuxuryListings.
“Is that the new LuxeLife resort? BOOKING NOW,” declared @LifestyleGoals22.
The validation hit my system like another martini, warming me from the inside out. Social proof that what I did mattered.
I continued my exploration, pushing open doors to discover a powder room with a copper sink, a media room with a projection system, and finally, the bedroom.
“Oh. My. God.”
The king-size four-poster bed sat against the far wall, each post carved from what appeared to be entire tree trunks. The sheets gleamed in the low light, promising a thread count that exceeded my credit score. Another fireplace, smaller than the one in the living room but no less impressive, crackled in the corner. More windows showcased the star-filled sky.
I approached the bed, pressing my hand against the mattress. “Well, aren’t you cozy?” It yielded beneath my touch like a cloud, all but begging me to dive face-first into its downy embrace. But my mud-streaked body and leaf-filled hair reminded me that I wasn’t exactly in pristine condition.
“Hygiene first.” Though it pained me to delay my reunion with horizontal surfaces.
I pushed open the bathroom door and gasped out loud. “Holy mother of bathrooms.” The marble-clad space was larger than my entire bedroom back home, maybe my entire apartment, illuminated by the soft glow of backlit mirrors and crystal light fixtures.
A deep soaking tub was positioned directly beneath a skylight, framing the star-studded heavens. The entire Milky Way had assembled specifically for my bathing entertainment.
I twisted the taps, and water gushed forth, steam rising in lazy spirals that caught the moonlight. “I’m never leaving here. Ever. And I’m totally serious.”
A collection of bath products waited on a wooden caddy, salts, oils, bubbles. I selected a bottle labeled “Mountain Bliss,” pouring a generous amount under the running water. Thescent bloomed in the steam, wildflowers and pine, with undertones of vanilla and amber.
While the tub filled, I returned to the dining area to investigate my late-night snacks. Lifting the silver dome, I discovered an artfully arranged plate of what the accompanying card described as “Colorado Harvest,” a locally sourced artisanal cheese board with huckleberry reduction, wild mushroom risotto, and roasted root vegetables. A second, smaller dome concealed a dessert, dark chocolate tart with sea salt and candied pine nuts.
“Maya, I could kiss you.” But then I did a breath test on the back of my hand and decided that was probably a bad idea for multiple reasons.
My stomach growled, reminding me that terror, hiking, and alcohol made for a potent appetite-stimulating combination. I carried the plate and the wine back to the bathroom, setting them on a convenient shelf near the tub.
As the water continued to rise in the tub, the bathroom mirror revealed the full extent of my dishevelment, hair tangled with twigs and leaves, smudges of dirt across my cheek, eyes bright from a combination of exhaustion and martini.
“Yikes.” I looked like I’d been dragged upside down and backward across the mountain.
I peeled off my travel-stained clothes, letting them drop to the heated marble floor, then stepped into the tub, a moan escaping my lips as the hot water enveloped my aching body. I sank deeper, the scented water lapping at my collarbone, my muscles surrendering to the heat.
The starlight above, combined with the room’s dim illumination, created a dreamlike atmosphere. I found myself wondering if Noah was looking up at the same stars right now. Maybe in a sleeping bag in a tent. Or a dark cave. His wolf-dog curled at his feet.
“Guess who got the laugh last now, Mr. Grumpy Frumpy Mumpy Man,” I called out to the stars.
Sinking deeper into the tub, I took a sip of the Chardonnay, a perfect balance of rich and crisp. My stomach growled, reminding me that wine alone wasn’t going to be enough. I hadn’t been that hungry since that one time in college when my roommate, Trish, guilted me into joining Weight Watchers with her. It was the most torturous three hours of my life.
I followed the sip of Chardonnay with a bite of aged cheese. “Oh my God, are you magic cheese?” The flavors burst across my tongue, the huckleberry sauce adding a sweet-tart counterpoint.
As I floated in botanical-infused bliss, I couldn’t help but think of Noah again, an occurrence that was becoming both more frequent and alarming. What would Mr. Mountain Man make of all this luxury? Would he scoff at the heated floors? Laugh at the designer soaps? Silently judge me?
Definitely judge me. Definitely not silent judgment either.
A master of illusion. A swindler of substance.
“Stop it,” I told myself. “Stop thinking about the jerk who abandoned you at an airport.”
I sank even lower in the tub, letting the water lap at my chin. Tomorrow, I’d focus on my assignment. I’d dazzle Maya and Marcus and Victoria with my content creation skills. I’d explore every inch of LuxeLife’s mountain paradise and translate it into engagement and likes. Fulfill my contract, prove the haters wrong … pay off the late charges multiplying all over my credit card statements like horny jackrabbits.
