~HUNTER~
"A little to the left," I direct, watching Vincent struggle with the string of lights. "No—my left, not yours."
Vincent grunts, stretching to hang the lights along the cabin's wooden beams. "Since when did you become such a perfectionist about decorations?"
"I've always been a perfectionist," I reply, adjusting a vase of wildflowers on the dining table.
The cabin smells of pine and the lasagna baking in the oven. Outside, the lake sparkles in the late afternoon sun, visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Everything looks perfect—which is exactly what I wanted.
Vincent steps down from the ladder, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I still can't believe Hunter Reid is decorating a cabin for his maid's birthday."
I shoot him a glare. "She's not just a maid."
"Oh?" Vincen
