Chapter Eleven
Piper
The gravel crunches beneath Chase's truck tires as we wind down the mountain road.
I'm still shivering from our impromptu polar plunge at Silver Falls. My hair's damp beneath my beanie, and I'm wrapped in his flannel like it's a security blanket.
"Where are we going?" I ask for the third time.
"You'll see."
"That's not an answer."
"I told you. It's the only answer you're getting."
The trees part, and suddenly we're pulling into a parking lot. I glance out the window and see a sign for Fox Hollow Lodge.
My breath catches. "Chase..."
"Don't freak out yet. Wait till you see inside."
The building is cute, with honeyed timber and dark stone stretching lengthwise down a long drive. It's nestled into the mountainside like it's been here for centuries.
Chase pulls the truck up outside a reception office where the windows glow with warm light, and smoke curls from the main chimney against the darkening sky.
A woman in a crisp navy blazer appears at the entrance as we park, her smile beaming through Chase's rolled down window. She's holding a red velvet folder.
"Mr. Morrison, Ms. Whitman—welcome to Fox Hollow Lodge!" Her voice has that hush-luxury quality I recognize from Chicago's finest establishments. "I'm Nora, and I'll be taking care of you this evening."
I turn to Chase in the truck's cab, giving him my best what-the-hell-did-you-do look, the one that usually makes patients confess they 'forgot' to swallow their pills.
He just grins, all dimples and zero remorse, and slaps my thigh. "Come on."
"Come on? That's it? That's all I get?"
"Yep." He's already out of the truck, jogging around to my side.
"Chase Morrison, if you rented some ridiculous—"
He opens my door, and I step out on wobbly legs that have nothing to do with the hike and everything to do with the realization that he planned this. For me. For us.
Nora leads us past the main lodge, where a massive hearth crackles and the scent of mulled wine and wood smoke tempts me closer. We move down a candlelit path to one of the private cabins.
The pines are fading to silhouettes against a pink-streaked sky, and lanterns glow along the walkway like fireflies guiding the way.
She unlocks the door with a brass key, then hands the velvet folder to Chase with a smile.
"As requested, you have a couples massage at six. We will provide champagne on demand, and if the stars behave, the hot tub will, too." Nora winks at me and smiles at Chase. "Enjoy!"
Then she's gone, footsteps fading down the path, and I'm standing in the doorway of what might actually be heaven.
The cabin is gorgeous. Wide-plank floors, exposed beams, a stone fireplace already crackling with fresh logs. Huge windows frame the mountains like a painting, and on the table sits a handwritten card propped against a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket.
Welcome, Piper & Chase.
My throat goes tight.
"Don't cry, please." Chase moves behind me, hands covering my eyes. "Not yet. Come on."
I laugh, stumbling forward as he guides me through the cabin. "This is ridiculous."
"Shh. No peeking."
He steers me around a corner, and I can feel the warmth of another room, hear the faint crackle of a second fireplace. Then his hands drop away.
"Ta-da!"
Chase steps back and the bedroom I'm staring at is a dream wrapped in flannel and firelight.
"Chase Morrison, what did you do?"
A king-size bed piled with soft throws, more windows framing the mountains, a rainfall shower visible through an open bathroom door. And on the dresser are two impossibly plush white robes, folded perfectly neat, beside a glass dome covering chocolate-dipped strawberries.
I turn to face him, and he's grinning like he personally built the mountain just to give me this view.
"So, I got us a room for tonight." He shrugs, but his ears are pink. "Thought you might like it better than my apartment floor."
I laugh, the sound shaky with something that feels dangerously close to tears. "You didn't have to… You know I like your apartment."
"You do not like the creaky floors, or the questionable plumbing." He scratches the back of his neck, grinning. "Plus, Mrs. Jones next door can hear everything. I'm pretty sure she's been listening out for it ever since that night on the fire escape."
I laugh despite myself. "Chase."
"What? I'm just saying, this place has soundproof walls and a hot tub. Seemed like an upgrade."
"You didn't have to do all this."
"I wanted to." He cups my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. "You've had a shit week. You deserve something good."
The ache sneaks in again. Tomorrow, I have to leave. Forty-eight hours felt like forever when I landed yesterday, and now it's slipping through my fingers like water.
Where did the time go? Is this how I'm going to feel every weekend?
Chase must see it on my face because he kisses my forehead. "Tonight's itinerary: zero itinerary."
I exhale, letting him pull me back into the moment. "I approve of this."
He grins and tugs me toward the champagne. The cork pops, and he pours two flutes that bubble and fizz over the rim.
"We're celebrating like it's Friday," he announces, handing me a glass.
"It's Saturday."
"Exactly. Bonus celebration." He tilts his glass to mine. "To forever Fridays!"
I smile and clink my glass to his. "Forever Friday's!"
I take a sip, unable to stop the smile on my lips and the pounding of my heart. Imagine a forever Friday, where the happiness and joy I feel when I'm around this goofball is forever.
I stand and just watch him move around the cabin. He's still in his damp shirt from the falls, hair sticking up at odd angles, and still… he's never looked more beautiful.
"Try on the robe with me," he says, nodding toward the dresser.
"Now?"
"Yeah. I wanna see if they're as soft as they look."
I set down my glass and slip out of his flannel, then my damp shirt and jeans, until I'm standing in just my bra and underwear. His gaze goes molten hot, tracking every movement as I shrug into the robe.
It's like being wrapped in a fluffy cloud.
"Oh my god." I close my eyes, sinking into the fabric. "Now, I know luxury because I've lived it my entire life. But this… This is obscene."
"Good obscene or bad obscene?"
"The kind that makes me want to steal it."
He laughs and strips down to his boxer briefs, pulling on the second robe. Then he's behind me, tucking me into his side, both of us facing the window as the sky bleeds a gorgeous sunset.
"Look at us," he murmurs. "Matching robes and everything. Very domestic."
"Very temporary," I correct, but my voice lacks conviction.
He reaches for one of the strawberries, bringing it to my lips. I bite down, the sweetness exploding on my tongue, and then he's kissing me, tasting the chocolate and fruit and champagne all mixed together.
A soft knock at the door interrupts us, and when Chase opens the door, a tray has appeared as if summoned by magic.
Chase looks down the walkway, but there is no one to be seen. Just a stunning assortment of tiny canapés, local cheeses, little jars of jam that Chase places on the small kitchen island.
We start to relax, graze the food and sip the wine. We laugh, and over the next hour, I let myself sink into the fantasy that this is my life. That I get to do this every weekend. That Friday's are forever and Sunday doesn't exist.
Another knock eventually comes at the door, softer this time.
"That'll be Lina," Chase says, squeezing my fingers. "The massage therapist. But we can cancel if you want. No pressure."
I blink at him. "You booked us a couples massage?"
"Of course. Figured after the hike and the waterfall, you might be sore."
"Chase..."
"What?"
The knock comes again, and he pulls away with a rueful grin. "Hold that thought."
He answers the knock, and Lina is everything a spa therapist should be. Calm, warm, impossibly serene as she drifts in with a whisper, setting up oils and towels by the fire while soft instrumental music plays from a speaker.
"We'll start with a guided relaxation," she explains, gesturing to the two pop-up massage tables she's arranged. "Then I'll walk you through some techniques you can use on each other."
Chase and I exchange a cheeky look.
"On… each other?" I repeat.
"Mm-hmm. It's very popular with couples." She smiles, already warming oil between her palms. "Builds intimacy."
I bite back a laugh. We've already built plenty of intimacy, thanks.
But I lie down on the table, face in the cushioned cradle, and let her work her magic. Her hands are so strong, kneading tension I didn't know I was carrying. I groan into the cushion and feel the world melt away.
"That's it," she murmurs. "Just breathe."
Then I hear Chase's voice from beside me. "Can I try?"
Lina pauses. "Of course. Here—like this."
His hands replace hers on my shoulders, and my bones immediately forget their structural responsibilities. He's not as practiced, but there's something about the way he touches me that makes my entire body melt.
"You two already seem very… at ease," Lina observes, her tone knowing.
"He's… talented," I manage, voice muffled and wrecked through the face hole of the table.
Chase leans closer, breath warm against my ear. "What can I say? I'm a very hands-on learner."
I can hear Lina's smile. "Entirely understood. I'll leave these here in case you decide to continue… independently."
She sets a basket of oils and a tip envelope on the table, eyes twinkling like she's seen this exact scenario play out a hundred times.
"Enjoy the rest of your evening."
The door shuts behind her, and I lift my head. "Did we just get politely kicked out of our own massage?"
"Nope. I think we got an upgrade." Chase grins, reaching for one of the oils. "Now I get to do whatever I want."
"That's a dangerous amount of power."
"You love it."