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“But the vibe must be dark, sexy, and all about pleasure. It’s great for date nights and friends because it’s cheeky and fun too.”

She goes on, revving herself up with more ideas. And my God, watching her mind work is the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed. My lady is clever and creative, like all her pranks.

“What would you name this sexy restaurant?” I ask.

“The Hedonist,” she says without thought.

I stare at her in shock. “It’s, ah, perfect. I love it. I love all your ideas.” I shake my head. How does she come up with them so fast, so easily?

Her face flushes pink. It’s my new favorite color.

My new favorite everything.

I step closer to grip the nape of her neck. My thumb lightly traces the contours of her jaw and the Cupid’s bow of her lips. I memorize the exact location of her beauty mark, the way the light catches a tinge of green near her pupils, but most of all, I commit her lively spirit to memory and how she makes me feel like anything is possible with her at my side.

“One day, I’m going to open that restaurant, and I want you to be there,” I say.

“You want me?” Her eyes soften.

“I want you everywhere, always.” I cup her face and kiss her. “Sophia, I want all my cards on the table. I want to tell you all my secrets⁠—”

“No, don’t.” She grabs my wrist, turning serious. “We’ll talk about that stuff when we’re apart. Right now, I want to touch you, kiss you, to play and have fun.” Her eyes plead.

“But—”

“Promise me.” She becomes stern. Distressed, even. “There’s nothing you could say right now that will change anything. Just give me this one last weekend. Please.”

I release the fight I was holding in my shoulders and sigh. “Okay,” I say, even though my head and my heart are at war. One half wants to give her everything she wants. The other wants to give us firm ground for a real relationship to stand on.

But when our noses touch and slip, lips join and slide, and tongues brush and caress, I give in because I want the same—one last perfect weekend.

As I kiss her, I silently whisper my hopes into her mouth, praying this isn’t a mistake. That somehow, when Adam appears, she will choose me over him, the simple guy from New York via Hawaii with big dreams, who doesn’t have it all figured out. I want her to fall for me because I have fallen deeply for her.

In my head, I say the three words I can’t say out loud, and I hope she feels them too.

Raindrops hit my lips and drip between our kisses. Three more splatter my cheek in quick succession. I open my eyes and watch Sophia’s eyelashes flutter open. She smiles when I brush them across the seam of her lips.

Holding her close, I glance at the sky. “Looks like more than a passing cloud. I wanted to stay and swim, but we should head back. The trail gets slippery.”

We gather our things and make our way down the path in the drizzle, but we’re moving slower than before. The trail is turning muddy and slick. When we reach the mango tree, a deluge of rain kicks in. We pause under the canopy of leaves for shelter and watch with concern as water flows past in tiny downhill rivers. I tap at my phone for the radar, but there’s no service in the remote canyons.

“We’ve got two hours to get back,” I say.

“Two hours or what?” she asks.

“You don’t want to know.” I chuckle nervously.

“Will blood-sucking bats descend or something?” Her gaze scours the treetops.

“Let’s go with that. It’ll make you walk faster.” I squeeze her butt cheek.

“Gio,” she whines. “My muscles are sore. I’m not used to incline walking. Chicagoans are flatlanders.”

“And here I thought you were going to out-hike me,” I tease.

“I may have overestimated my abilities,” she grumbles.

“Are you admitting defeat?”