49. Michael

MICHAEL

I can’t keep my eyes off Alice as we step inside the cottage.

She points at everything—the tree, the garland-trimmed window, the red and green blankets and pillows decoratively strewn across the living room furniture.

I set the suitcases down at the end of the little hallway that must lead to the bedroom and take the grocery bags from her.

Alice lets out a sound of excitement when we step into the kitchen.

The house itself is small, just one bedroom and bathroom, but the living room on the front side of the house is spacious and the kitchen overlooking the backyard is just as large.

There’s a marble-topped island with stools on the far side and a little breakfast nook in front of the windows.

“Oh, look!” Alice rushes to the patio doors, lifting her hands like she’s going to place them on the glass but lowering them before they make contact. “There’s a hot tub.”

I place the bags on the island and move to stand next to her. “Good thing it’s on the back of the house.”

She tips her head back. “Why?”

I settle my hand on her perfect ass. “Because we didn’t pack swimsuits.”