"Smart dog," I murmur, joining Alder in the kitchen as he starts unpacking groceries. "Can I help?"
"You can open this," he says, handing me a bottle of wine. "I checked the calendar three times to make sure we'd have the place to ourselves. My brothers and cousins have a bad habit of showing up unannounced."
I laugh, reaching for the wine opener he points out in a drawer. "Is that a common problem?"
"You have no idea. Wyatt once brought Fern here for a romantic weekend and ended up with half the family walking in while they were... occupied." Alder's eyes crinkle with mischief as he unpacks steaks for tomorrow.
"What did he do?"
“Tried to get them to leave, but they all sat around and ate breakfast while Fern tried not to explode.” Alder takes the open wine and pours a glass on each of us. "To have the place all to ourselves," he says, clinking his glass against mine.
"To proper scheduling," I counter, taking a sip.
After we put away the groceries and had our wine, Alder gives me the full tour. The downstairs level boasts a theater room with plush recliners, a foosball table, and gaming consoles. Outside, there's a heated pool and a hot tub large enough for at least eight people. The upper floors contain bedrooms—some with bunks for cousins, others with king beds for the original Stag brothers and their partners.
"This one's ours…for now,” Alder says, pushing open the door to reveal a spacious room with a king-sized bed and a private balcony overlooking the woods. Each door has a small chalkboard, and I watch Alder write "A Stag + Lena" in his surprisingly tidy handwriting.
I step inside, running my hand along the deer-patterned quilt that covers the bed. "It's perfect."
Alder wraps his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "I've never brought anyone here before," he says quietly.
The admission sends warmth spreading through my chest. "Thank you for sharing it with me."
We unpack in comfortable silence, moving around each other with the ease of people who have learned each other's rhythms. I hang my clothes in the closet beside his and arrange my toiletries alongside his in the bathroom. Such simple acts of domesticity, yet each one feels significant—another thread binding us together.
Later, we eat a quick meal of pasta and salad at the counter, sharing stories and laughing as Gordie tries to convince us he's never been fed.
"I can see why you love it here," I say, glancing around at the secluded luxury of the space. "It feels... peaceful."
"It's my favorite place to recharge before the season starts," Alder admits. "No press, no pressure. Just mountains and quiet."
This easy companionship with Alder feels like breathing after years of suffocation.
"Want to try the pool?" he asks suddenly, eyes bright with boyish excitement.
I hesitate, thinking of how I'd look in a swimsuit, then catch myself. This is Alder, who has seen every inch of me, touches me with reverence, and never once made me feel anything but desired.
"Race you there," I say instead, and his delighted laugh follows me as I head to change.
The heated pool gleams under the moonlight, steam rising gently from its surface into the cool mountain air. Alder dives in with athletic grace, surfacing with water streaming from his golden hair. I cautiously enter via the steps, but the perfect temperature soon lures me deeper.
"Come here," he says, floating in the center. "Look up."
I paddle over and try to mimic his position but keep sinking.
"Like this," he says, sliding his hands beneath me, supporting my weight. "Relax your neck... that's it... now look."
I gaze upward and gasp. Away from the city and the stadium lights, the night sky spreads in infinite darkness, punctuated by stars that seem close enough to touch.
"It's incredible," I breathe, focusing on staying afloat as he slowly removes his supporting hands.
“You sure are,” Alder murmurs, his lips finding my neck.
The water makes everything weightless and dreamlike. His hands roam my body as we float, kiss, and touch. When the heat between us builds too high, we move to the hot tub, where the jets pulse against our skin and steam rises around us like a private cloud.
Once properly pruned, we emerge from the water, wrapped in plush robes, and drink more wine by the fire, Gordie snoring at our feet. I tuck myself against Alder's side, marveling at how naturally we fit together—my curves against his angles, my softness against his hardness.
"Happy?" he asks, pressing a kiss to my temple.
