Three walls of glass or clear Perspex, floor to ceiling, completely transparent. The forest presses against the glass on all sides, branches and ferns and dappled light. In the center, sunk into a timber deck, a Jacuzzi, already filled, steam curling from the surface.
“That’s for later,” Corey states from behind me. His breath moves across the nape of my neck, and I grip the doorframe.
“Is this a good idea?” I murmur.
“Depends on your definition ofgood.”
I turn, and he’s super close. His scent is everywhere in my space, brown sugar and spearmint, and my body responds with a surge of warmth so intense my knees almost buckle.
“Sounds perfect,” I say, holding his gaze, and the words come out breathier than intended. I pivot and step back to the living room. I crash onto the couch in front of the fire and stretch my arms above my head. “I could stay here forever,” I call out. “This is my future home. Forget everything. I’m living on a mountain.”
“How about first we fill that stomach, then you can stake your claim?” He’s already in the kitchen, pulling a wicker picnic basket from behind the counter, and I sit up so fast I nearly fall off the couch.
“Oh my God. Did they make that for us?”
“Sure did.” He’s transferring packed items from the fridge into it, and I’m on my feet, crossing the kitchen, trying to peer inside.
He angles his body to block me, chuckling. “Surprise.”
“I’m terrible with surprises. I need to know.”
“You need to wait.” He shuts the basket and grabs a blanket from the dining chair, tucks it under his arm, lifts the basket, and nods toward the door. “Now let’s go.”
We head outside, where the sun is casting golden shadows through the trees, the air fresh and birds chirping all around us. I stand on the porch for a moment and just breathe, staring at the wildflowers dotting the landscape.
“Can we stay here and forget the rest of the world exists?” I ask.
Corey stops on the path ahead of me and turns, giving me that sinful smile. “If that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen, sunshine.”
My heart clenches, and I hurry after him before it shows on my face.
He leads me around the side of the cabin, away from the arrival path, and into the woods on a narrow trail. The trees close in, dappled green and gold, and I spot a rabbit bolting between the ferns, a squirrel spiraling up a trunk. The trail opens into a small clearing on the edge of the mountain.
The view drops away into layered valleys, mountain ridges receding into blue haze. Corey’s already spreading the blanket in a perfect spot, and I’m swooning over the whole picnic thing. No one has ever done this for me before.
Corey removes his boots and socks and wiggles his toes in the grass. I do the same, and the cool softness under my bare feet is heaven.
“The property owners live up here somewhere,” he explains. “They keep the grounds immaculate. If you need anything, they’ll bring it within the hour.”
“Impressive.”
“Wait until you see what’s in here.” He unlatches the basket and starts pulling items out. A wooden board. Cured meats, cheeses, olives, sundried tomatoes, sliced figs, baguettes. Thenneatly cut triangle sandwiches on thick bread with various fillings. A container of strawberries and grapes. A small pot of honey. Crackers, hummus, a jar of cornichons, and brownies. Two glass bottles of sparkling water.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m never leaving.”
We spread it between us and eat. He stacks a cracker with cheese, honey, and fig and holds it out to me. I lean forward and take it from his fingers with my teeth, and the honey drips on my chin. He laughs and wipes it off with his thumb. The contact burns through me, but I pretend I’m fine.
I’m not fine. A deer appears at the edge of the clearing, doe-eyed, still. We both freeze. It watches us for five seconds, then turns and vanishes into the trees.
“This place is magic,” I whisper.
“Knew you’d love it,” he says, helping himself to more food. We’re clearly both hungry, as we keep at it, barely talking, until Corey lies back on the blanket and puts his head in my lap, just like that. His eyes close, and his face, tipped up toward mine, catches the late sun.
“Grapes,” he says, opening his mouth.
“I see,” I say, grabbing one and then dropping it in.
He catches it, chews, grins. “Luckiest man in the world right here.”
