Megs couldn’t help it. She flipped forward through the journal, skipping over dozens of pages and many fantastic climbs in search of his entry for her eighteenth birthday. “I hope you didn’t skip it or just write, ‘We balled.’ I want details.”
Not that she didn’t remember what happened that night. It had been magical, a rite of passage, a sexual initiation at the hands of a man who had loved her even then. It was one of her favorite memories, and she wanted to see it all throughhiseyes.
And then she found it.
She perused the page, then smiled at Mitch, who was awake but drowsy from morphine. “Oh, my. Youdidinclude the details.”
When he saw her smile, he smiled. Of course, it might have been a reflex, him mimicking what he saw. Still, the sight of it put an ache in Megs’ chest. They had always had a strong emotional connection. Nothing, not even this terrible accident, had been able to change that.
“Are you ready for this? It’s pretty explicit.”
Megs began to read.
Mitch droveunder the shelter of the cabin’s carport and parked. “Here we are.”
The cabin belonged to François, who had invited Mitch to stay here with Megs when he’d heard Mitch was looking for a special place to celebrate Megs’ birthday.
Megs looked up at him, surprise on her face. “Are we staying here?”
“It’s ours for the entire weekend.”
“Far out!” She opened the door and hopped to the ground.
Mitch drew a breath, anticipation twined with nervousness in his belly. After more than a year of waiting, of wanting her, of burning for her, tonight was the night. He wanted it to be perfect.
They got their backpacks from the vehicle and walked up the steps of a wide wrap-around deck to the front door. Mitch unlocked it, opened it, and let Megs enter.
“Oh, wow!”
He smiled to himself. “Nice, isn’t it?”
He’d had the same reaction this afternoon when he’d dropped off the food, flowers, and other things they would need for the weekend. The place wasn’t a rustic cabin at all, but a luxury mountain getaway.
They set their packs down inside the door. Mitch followed Megs as she walked from the living room, with its fireplace and leather furniture, to the modern kitchen, and then to the primary bedroom, which had its own fireplace, a king-sized four-poster canopy bed, and an en-suite bathroom.
“Did you see that?” she pointed toward the bedroom. “There are mirrors on the underside of the canopy. How silly! Who cares what they look like when they sleep?”
Mitch burst out laughing. “I don’t think that’s why the mirrors are there.”
Megs frowned as if puzzling through this, then her eyes went wide. “You mean they watch themselves when they…?”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t help but find her innocence cute. “Keep looking. You haven’t seen everything yet.”
There was a guest bedroom, a wine cellar, and, outside the back door, a Jacuzzi with a sunset view of the mountains.
Megs played with the dials on the Jacuzzi, starting the jets. She laughed, ran her fingers through the bubbles, the happiness on her face putting a hitch in his chest. “This place has everything.”
“I think you missed something.” He led her back inside, stopping beside the dining room table with its bouquet of roses.
“Are the flowers for me?”
He glanced around. “I don’t see any other birthday girls.”
She found the little card, opened it, read what he’d written aloud. “‘Happy Birthday to the brightest star in my sky.’ Oh, Mitch, I love them—and the card. It was so sweet of you to set this all up.”
She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his lips.
He drew her against him, kissed her in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to kiss her since the day he’d said goodbye last summer. Oh, she tasted sweet, his blood going hot at the first brush of her lips. He wanted more than that—but not yet.
