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The drive wound out of the city in a blur of freeway heat and classic Maddie playlist chaos — 90s anthems, indie ballads she insisted Ethan secretly loved, and the occasional overdramatic sing-along with her hair out the window like some messy music video extra. She teased him mercilessly about his “serious driver face,” flicking her sunglasses down her nose, claiming she could tell he was trying not to grin every time she leaned across the console to steal a fry from the bag between them.

Ojai crept up on them soft and golden, the air instantly different from LA’s metallic tang — warmer, slower, sweet with orange groves and sun-baked earth. The roads narrowed into winding lanes framed by oak canopies, the mountains stretched wide around them, and Maddie stuck her bare feet on the dash despite his half-hearted protests. She snapped a blurry photo of their reflection in the windshield just to prove they were officially out of the city, caption already half-formed in her head.

When they pulled up to the cabin, it wasn’t the rustic shack she’d been bracing for. It was a sun-washed, Spanish-style hideaway tucked just far enough into the hillside to feel secret. White stucco walls, a terra-cotta roof, and bougainvillea climbing up the porch like it had been waiting for them. The place smelled faintly of rosemary and dust when they stepped inside, all cool tile floors, low timber beams, and a kitchen stocked with mismatched ceramics. The living room opened onto a patio with a hammock and a string of fairy lights already waiting to be plugged in — like the cabin knew who was coming.

Maddie dropped her bag right in the middle of the floor, spun once to take it all in, then let out a low whistle.
“Okay,” she said, sunglasses still perched like a crown on her head. “Not bad, Parker. I was ready for bear country chic, but this? This is giving me wine commercial.”

She padded toward the open doors, leaned out over the railing to catch the view of rolling hills and orchards burning gold in the late afternoon sun. A smirk tugged her mouth as she turned back over her shoulder, hair catching the light.
“Careful though,” she added, her voice dropping into something sly. “A place like this? You’re gonna have a hard time convincing me to ever leave.”

Ethan leaned against the doorframe, keys still in hand, and just watched her for a moment. The way she spun barefoot across the cool tile like she owned the place already, sunglasses crooked like some unruly crown, laughter spilling in the spaces where the cabin had been silent too long. God, he’d book this exact cabin every year for the rest of his life if it meant seeing her like this.

“Wine commercial, huh?” he drawled, tossing the keys onto the ceramic bowl by the counter. “Pretty sure I missed the casting call for that one. You think they’d hire a bloke with a serious driver face?”

Her smirk over the railing nearly undid him. He crossed the room, dropped his bag a little too carelessly next to hers, and let the screen door slap shut behind him as he stepped out onto the patio. The air hit different out here — softer, carrying the hum of crickets already warming up for evening.

“Careful yourself, Marsh,” he said, sliding up behind her, his chin brushing her shoulder as he caught the view she’d been soaking in. Hills rolled out like some oil painting, orchards catching fire under the low sun, and for once he didn’t feel the itch to be anywhere else. “You say things like that and I might take you at your word.”

Her hair tickled his jaw as he kissed the curve of her shoulder, slow and certain. “And if you never wanted to leave?” he murmured against her skin. “I’d find a way to make it work. Write songs from the hammock. Grow old drinking cheap wine under those fairy lights. Not exactly a hard sell.”

He pulled back just enough to catch her eyes, the playful glint there matched by the steadier weight in his own. “Truth is, Mads, you could put me in the middle of bear country chic and I’d still be good. As long as it’s you there making fun of me for it.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up, soft but sure, as his thumb traced the back of her hand resting on the railing. “Ojai’s just a backdrop. You’re the whole picture.”

He always did this — turned a simple line into something that hit her straight in the chest. “Ojai’s just a backdrop. You’re the whole picture.” God. Half the time she wanted to roll her eyes at him, and the other half she wanted to bottle him up just like that so she’d never forget how it felt.

Her fingers curled over his where he traced her hand, her smile tugging wider despite her best efforts to play it cool. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, low and amused, shifting just enough to glance at him over her shoulder. “Sweet, sure. Deadly romantic? Absolutely. But ridiculous.”

Still, she let herself lean back into him, just for a beat, before wriggling free with a wicked grin. She padded across the patio toward the hammock, bare feet light against the terracotta. “If this is a wine commercial, then clearly I’m the star, and you…” She plopped into the hammock with a dramatic flop, sunglasses sliding down her nose again. “You’re background talent. Maybe a moody extra in the corner with your serious driver face.”

She stretched out, one arm thrown over her head like some half-serious model pose, the ring on her finger catching the fading sun. Her smirk curved sharper when she noticed him still standing at the railing, watching. “Well? Don’t just stand there gawking, fiancé. Get over here before I drink this imaginary wine without you.”

Her laugh spilled easy into the warm Ojai air, light and sharp all at once. She didn’t care that the hammock was too small for both of them, or that she’d absolutely kick him if he tried to climb in beside her. That was the point. She wanted the challenge, the tangle, the chaos of fitting together even when the space wasn’t built for them.

Because this — the cabin, the fairy lights, the sunset, and him — this was what happiness looked like. And Maddie Marsh, Maddie Parker, could never resist turning happiness into a game she knew they’d both win.

Ethan barked out a laugh, low and unguarded, shaking his head as she sprawled like some chaotic goddess across the hammock. God, she was impossible. And God, he loved her for it.

“Background talent?” he echoed, pushing off the railing with a slow, deliberate stride. “Alright, Marsh. Careful what you say — I’ve got years of practice upstaging you with nothing but a guitar and a scowl. Don’t tempt me.”

He crossed the patio, sunlight slanting across his shoulders, and crouched beside the hammock like he was inspecting a puzzle he already knew he was going to lose. Her smirk was daring him, sunglasses tipped, ring flashing like a challenge.

“Fiancé, is it?” he murmured, leaning in close enough that his breath stirred the strands of hair at her temple. “Funny how quick you’ve taken to saying that. Might start to think you like the sound.”

Before she could fire back, he shifted, bracing one hand on the hammock’s edge and climbing in with zero grace, the whole thing lurching sideways. She squealed, half laughing, half threatening murder, and he just laughed harder, wrapping an arm around her waist to anchor them both before they toppled.

“See?” he said between chuckles, his forehead brushing hers as the hammock swung wildly. “Chaos. Challenge. Ridiculousness. That’s us, Mads.” He kissed her then, quick and certain, stealing the wordless grin from her mouth before she could sharpen it into something else.

When he pulled back, her sunglasses were crooked, her hair a mess, and he was still smiling like she’d just handed him the world. “And for the record,” he added, softer now, “I’ll play background talent any day — as long as it means I get the view.”

The hammock swayed, fairy lights above them trembling in the breeze, and Ethan thought, not for the first time, that he’d never needed a stage less than he did right here.

She was laughing so hard she nearly toppled them both, clutching his shirt with one hand while the hammock swung like it might pitch them onto the patio. “Ethan Parker, if we end up face-first in the dirt, I’m telling everyone it was your fault.”

Her words came out between bursts of laughter, cheeks flushed, sunglasses slipping down her nose. But she didn’t shove him off — not even close. Instead she wriggled until she was tucked against him, one leg thrown lazily over his, their bodies pressed tight in the hammock’s too-small cradle.

“Ridiculous,” she huffed, though her grin betrayed her. “But fine. Since you’ve successfully invaded my hammock, I guess I can let you stay.” She tilted her head, brushing her lips feather-light against his jaw. “Perks of being engaged, I suppose.”

The fairy lights above them swayed gently in the warm breeze, crickets filling the pauses between their laughter. The air smelled like sun-baked wood and citrus from the groves below, sticky-sweet in that way only summer evenings could be. Maddie tucked her face into his neck for a moment, breathing him in, her smile softening at the edges.

“You wanna know what I was daydreaming about on the drive up?” she murmured, her finger tracing idle shapes across his chest. “I planned it all out: lazy mornings with coffee on the porch, you showing off at that grill like some domestic rockstar, me dragging you to a farmer’s market for peaches and honey, and then—” her grin turned wicked as she lifted her head to meet his eyes “—convincing you to join me in that ridiculous outdoor shower. Just for research purposes, obviously.”

She laughed at his expression, nuzzling closer before he could fire back. “And if we survive that? Hammock naps. Midnight skinny dips. Getting tipsy on cheap wine under the stars.” Her ring glinted as she held her hand up briefly, admiring the way it caught the last of the sunset before she curled it back against his chest.

“Point is,” she whispered, her smile curving sweet and certain now, “this weekend? It’s ours. No cameras. No noise. Just you, me, and whatever kind of trouble we decide to get into.”

Ethan let her words hang there for a beat, the hammock swaying just enough to make her leg slip further across his. He could still hear her laugh ringing in his ears, the kind that knocked him sideways every damn time, but it was the way her smile softened in between — that was what got him.

“Alright, first of all,” he said, his voice low and amused against her hair, “if we do end up face-first in the dirt, it’s definitely your fault. You were the one swinging us like a rollercoaster.” He gave her hip a playful squeeze before tipping his head, mock serious. “But I’ll take the blame in the official story. You’re far too pretty to be responsible for broken hammocks.”

He let his eyes follow the line of her ring when she lifted her hand, the last of the sunset glinting off it like it belonged there all along. His chest tightened, but his grin edged cheeky. “As for that daydream list of yours…” He shifted just enough to catch her gaze, eyebrow arched. “Lazy mornings, coffee, peaches, hammocks? I’m in. But you should know — I’ve got a few daydreams of my own.”

He dipped his mouth closer, his breath brushing her ear. “Most of them involve you, that outdoor shower, and me proving exactly how much of a domestic rockstar I am.” He pulled back just enough to catch her laugh, his grin wicked now. “All for research purposes, obviously.”

The hammock swayed again, and Ethan tightened his arm around her, anchoring her against him. The citrus air, the fairy lights, the way she fit against his chest like she’d always been meant to — it all pressed in at once.

His voice dropped, softer, truer. “You’re right though. No cameras. No noise. Just us. And Maddie?” He kissed the top of her head, lingering there a moment. “That’s more than enough for me.”

The hammock swayed beneath them, and Maddie tipped her head back against the rope, her laugh curling into something low and wicked. The warmth of his chest pressed steady to hers, his arm a sure weight at her waist — and God, she was already plotting.

“You know what I think?” she murmured, her voice slipping playful as she let her fingertips wander lazily up his arm, brushing just under the edge of his sleeve. “I think first nights are important. They set the tone. Make the memories.”

She trailed her hand back down, tapping lightly against his chest like she was counting beats. “So here’s how I see it: we open that bottle of wine I spotted in the kitchen, we sit out here until the stars decide to show off for us, and then…” Her lips curved as she shifted, brushing her mouth against his jaw. “Then we make very good use of that king-sized bed inside. No interruptions. No excuses.”

The hammock rocked with her movement, and she laughed softly, half teasing, half daring. “Unless, of course, you’d rather skip the wine and start with the bed. I’m flexible. Priorities and all that.”

Her ring caught the glow of the fairy lights as she lifted her hand, resting it deliberately against his chest. Her grin softened, sultry and sure, as her eyes locked with his.

“Either way, Parker, tonight’s ours. And I fully intend to make it unforgettable.”

Ethan’s smirk curved slow, the kind that lived somewhere between trouble and promise. He let her words hang in the warm night air, his thumb brushing over the hand she’d planted against his chest.

“Unforgettable, huh?” His voice dropped, rough with amusement. The hammock swayed again as he shifted, crowding her closer like he was testing just how much space they could steal in something clearly not built for two.

He dipped his head, his breath grazing the edge of her ear. “You’re assuming I haven’t already made my own plans for tonight.” His lips skimmed her jaw as his grin widened. “But since you’re feeling generous with your… priorities, I’ll let you in on a secret.”

He tilted back just enough to meet her gaze, fairy lights sparking gold in his eyes. “Wine, stars, bed—doesn’t matter what order we pick. Every version of tonight ends with you.”

His fingers slipped to her waist, pressing her even tighter into him, the hammock creaking in protest. “So if you’re flexible…” His smirk sharpened, daring. “…guess I’ll just have to test that theory. Thoroughly.”

He kissed her then, slow but certain, like he already knew the night wasn’t going to be nearly long enough.

For half a second, she let him have it — that slow, certain kiss that stole the air right out of her lungs. But then she tilted her head, deepening it on her own terms, fingers curling into the back of his neck as if she could anchor him there forever.

And when he smirked against her mouth like he always did, Maddie bit back—literally. A playful nip at his bottom lip, just sharp enough to make him suck in a breath, just soft enough to melt into another kiss before he could fire back.

She broke away with a laugh, low and wicked, eyes glinting in the fairy lights. “Nice try, Parker. But since you won’t pick, I’m calling it.” Her thumb brushed across his jaw, slow and certain. “Wine first. Stars second. Bed last. Consider it… a setlist. And you don’t get to argue with the headliner.”

The hammock swung hard enough to creak as she shifted, straddling his lap without an ounce of hesitation. Her hair slipped forward, curtaining them in shadow and gold as she pressed her forehead to his, lips still inches from his.

“Besides,” she whispered, her smile curving sultry now, “drawing out the anticipation makes for a better encore.”

She let her lips ghost over his one last time before pulling back, a mischievous spark in her eyes. Then—just to prove she could—Maddie slipped gracefully out of the hammock, leaving him with nothing but the sway of the ropes and the ghost of her mouth on his.

“Stay put, rockstar.” She pointed at him over her shoulder as her bare feet hit the patio, sunglasses still crooked like a crown. “Consider this your first challenge of the weekend: don’t fall out while I’m gone.”

Her laugh floated back to him as she padded inside, the screen door creaking shut behind her. He could hear the clink of cabinet doors, the soft pop of a cork, and then her voice calling back, teasing and smug:

“And don’t get too comfortable. I’m not letting you off the hook for skipping straight to your favorite part. Wine comes first. Always.”

A minute later, she reappeared with two glasses hooked in her fingers and a bottle dangling from the other hand, held up like some triumphant prize. The fairy lights caught the amber glass, her grin flashing just as bright.

“See?” she said, settling the bottle on the patio table and lifting her brows at him. “Perfect setlist. Trust me, Parker—you’re gonna love my version of this show.”