Part 1 of 2

Michonne found it hard to look away from Rick, her eyes slowly and methodically took in the sight of him in his gray sweater, legs crossed, glasses on his face as he read something in a black leather portfolio. She was a State Department officer and her phone often rang after "work hours" so she understood the unpredictability of his career. When your boyfriend was an adviser to the President of the United States, there was no such thing as off duty. But this Christmas, after a long and successful re-election campaign that saw him crisscross the country countless times with the president, he promised her an unforgettable Christmas vacation. Together.

This was a new step in their relationship - their first time together on Christmas Day. There were numerous milestones in their relationship the past six months, like meeting his best friend, who happened to be the leader of the free world. Rick insisted she attend a small holiday gathering at the White House with the First Family and a few friends. When the president said he heard so much about her, she took it for what it usually was — nice small talk. But when he asked about her father's health — she went back home for a few days when he was hospitalized — she knew she had been a topic of discussion between him and the president. That was intimidating. The three years they were together meant nothing, her mother said, the introduction to the president and his family was everything and meant she should prepare for an engagement ring.

Her mother wasn't the only person to whisper the idea of marriage. So did her friends, entertainment shows, magazines, and Vegas. She reminded her mother and friends this wasn't Rick's longest relationship and he had never been engaged. Rick had been a professional bachelor but her friends reminded her Amal locked down George Clooney. But it had been three amazing years. Better than any relationship she ever experienced. She knew though things were good with her ex-fiance, it could be better. There was more to love than what she had with Anthony and she didn't want to miss her chance to experience it by settling down with him, a good person, just not the right one for her. She found that something special you couldn't explain, only feel, in Rick. Those cliche butterflies she laughed about were real and fluttered every time she saw him for the first time. He still wanted to be with her as much as possible and introduced her to everyone he remotely knew when they were out. America and Britain's most eligible bachelor was off the market, which somehow made him more attractive to women, even more so than the rotating bevy of long-legged actresses, models, and socialites from his past.

She was still staring when the pilot notified them over the intercom they'd be landing in ten minutes.

Rick looked over at her. "I'm almost finished. I promise this won't happen again," he said as he lifted the portfolio. "I have a few surprises up my sleeve."

She appreciated that while she never complained about his unconventional work schedule, he always acknowledged it and apologized, never taking her understanding for granted. They rarely discussed past relationships, but she had the feeling he dealt with a few less than sympathetic partners who either didn't grasp or didn't care about his responsibilities. Rick wasn't a salesman or an advertising executive. He was expected to give the president analysis on major affairs from terrorism to the economy. Sometimes that meant canceling plans at the last minute or pausing the on-demand movie to take a phone call. He was more than worth it.

She gave him a gentle smile. "I know." Besides, she had a few distractions of her own to ensure his eyes were on her the majority of this vacation.

She looked out the window of the plane not believing this was her life. She knew Rick was wealthy and generous. The gifts, his Georgetown home, a quick weekend getaway to the Caribbean here and there, but he never showcased it like he did this time - the private plane was something she could quickly get used to.

They were met on the tarmac by a black Chevy Tahoe complete with a driver who dressed like it was cool instead of freezing, probably lived here all his life. The drive from the airport which usually took thirty minutes, was just under an hour thanks to a recent snowstorm. The two-lane road snaked around the snow-capped mountains that seemed to reach beyond the sky. The ride was in silence; spellbound by the sights before her. She could feel him watching her as she took it in. She lived the concrete jungle life since graduating from college. She forgot the beauty of wide open space for as far as the eye could see. Living in the D.C. area was like living in a constant construction zone. Developers couldn't see a spot of green without wanting to build something.

It was dusk when they pulled under the porte-cochere of what had to be the most beautiful home she'd ever seen.

"We're here, darling," Rick said. He kissed her temple.

"I'm awake," she said, lifting her head off his shoulder.

The lights were on, both outside and inside the home, and there was a golden hue to the home that made it appear warm despite the thick snow and strong gusts of wind. Thanks to an abundance of windows, she could already see inside.

"Is someone here?" She asked.

"No."

"It's beautiful," Michonne said as Rick held her hand and assisted her out of the SUV. "But you said a cabin. This is a mansion," she said as she looked over at him.

"Technically, I guess so."

"What do you mean by technically?"

"Well, it's about 9,000 square feet. So, sure, I guess it's a mansion, but it feels like a home. It's cozy."

She laughed at a cozy 9,000 square feet. She never knew Wyoming could be so lavish and of all the places he talked about he never mentioned anything so pastoral. She knew about his place in London, the home in Lake Como, and the beach house in Malibu. "Wait. Is this your home?"

"No. It's the home of a friend."

She wondered what she would have been in store for if he took her to Switzerland or Prague like he wanted. His paternal grandfather was an earl or lord or something, they probably would have stayed in the family castle. She wouldn't be surprised if they had one.

"I thought about getting a place here. Still a possibility. We'll see how this week goes."

What did that mean? If she liked it he'd buy a place here? Her opinion mattered regarding his real estate ventures? The thought made her mind race. Would he propose Christmas Eve? She had questions but before she could ask he did something on his phone, then pointed toward the door. "It's unlocked. Go inside. We'll get the bags."

From the moment she entered the home she was captivated. The first thing she noticed was the smell - a warm spicy scent. Maybe vanilla and cinnamon with a touch of amber. She inhaled and her happiness increased tenfold. The house was spacious and appeared to be an open floor plan from the little she saw from just beyond the foyer. The only thing she didn't like as she walked further into the home was that it had a lot of wood. There was thick wood bordering around the windows, large exposed wooden support beams from ceiling to floor between the dining room and living room and wooden beams on the ceiling. She wasn't thrilled about the monstrous wooden antler chandelier either.

She climbed the winding stairs made of solid wood and stood on the open walkway that looked down on the bottom floor. Just as she was about to head toward the bedrooms Rick called out to her.

"Michonne?"

"Coming down."

Their luggage was near the door but he was nowhere in sight.

"Where are you?" She called out.

"Back here," he said.

She found him in the grand living room with its double height ceiling. "Wow," she said. She couldn't over it. The floor to ceiling four by three grid windows created its own kind of accent wall. The back wall was almost the same except the lower level had two glass doors in the center that led to the backyard.

"It's a great house, right?" Rick asked.

"It is." She loved the house though the decorating left a lot to be desired. She already thought of numerous ways to change it while maintaining the rugged motif. "This is a big place for two people." She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It has everything you need," he said as he placed his hands on her hips.

She could see the lustful look in his eyes and wasn't ready to start something she wouldn't be comfortable finishing. "Right now I need a shower." It was a long day. Not wanting to waste any time, he arranged for a car service to pick her up from the office and take her directly to the airport so they could wake up on the first day of their vacation already settled and ready to enjoy each other.

He didn't move, in fact he tightened his grip on her as he pulled her closer.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I want to stand here and look at you. Is that okay?"

When other men looked at her the way Rick looked at that moment she felt objectified, sometimes even fetishized. With Rick, she felt loved and cherished. That's how he made her feel on any day and she didn't have to be anything other than herself.

"What I feel for you and what we have, I know is the truest love there is." He ran his thumb over her bottom lip and instinctively she licked her lips, grazing the tip of his thumb with her tongue. She rocked from foot to foot, for a moment she thought he might build up to a proposal but that wasn't Rick. It wouldn't be after they traveled, unsettled and tired. His proposal would be one of those moments he would recount in some interview that would make women swoon then reconsider their significant others.

He leaned down and kissed her, gently at first and what she thought would be a quick kiss developed into something fervent. Once he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she became dizzy and her head fell back too far and she lost her balance. He held her tighter.

"Have your shower," he said. "I'll make dinner."

The shower was something she didn't know existed. Not only could it fit six or seven people, it was a full body experience. There was a square rainfall shower head and six massaging body jets coming out of the wall. Already guilty of way too many thirty-minute showers, she could stay in here forever. Then there was the bench. As her hands slid over her soapy body, she dreamed of the things she and Rick could do in there together.

She found him in the kitchen. His sweater was off, he was in a thin T-shirt and his pants, barefoot. The fireplace was lit and the soft sound of jazz played.

"You're walking around barefoot on marble floors?" She asked.

He looked over his shoulder and laughed when he looked down at her feet. "Take off your socks."

She frowned and joined him at the counter as he plated a chicken Caesar salad. "I have cold feet," she said.

He laughed. "I know."

"You don't like my socks?" She looked down at her feet - she could admit the thick gray thermal socks didn't do much for her satin and silk slip and robe. She removed her socks and felt the instant warmth. "Of course."

He smiled. "Radiant heating system." He put a piece of chicken to her mouth and she took it barely getting it in her mouth before he kissed her.

"Good," she said as she chewed.

"Hmm, I agree," he said, kissing along the corner of her mouth and her jawline.

Three years later and he still made her happy with the smallest of gestures. She loved his kisses. Never chaste. Whether quick or lingering they were always passionate.

With the chef's knife in his hand he pointed to a bottle of wine. "Help yourself. My friend has excellent taste in wine."

She took a sip. "I like."

"Chile."

She didn't know all that much about wine, just what she liked but she picked up a few things here and there from Rick. "Central Valley?"

"Very good."

They took the bottle of wine and their salads and sat in front of the fireplace in the living room next to the kitchen, opting to snuggle on the couch instead of sitting at the massive oak dining room table. There was a huge bare Christmas tree with boxes of ornaments next to it.

"That tree must be at least twelve feet. Is it for us?" Her eyes wide as she leaned forward.

"It is. I know how much you love Christmas decorations."

Each year they went to a few of the Christmas lights displays around D.C. like ZooLights at the National Zoo and Festival of Lights at the Washington D.C. Temple. And they always went to see the tree at Rockefeller Center.

"I do." She moved closer to him and fed him a bite of her salad.

Exhausted from a long day and two bottles of wine, they fell into bed and forgot to close the window blinds before they fell asleep so the next morning, sunlight spread across Michonne's face and woke her. Rick's arm was draped over waist and he was dead to the world. She smiled, he was so alert and observant when awake, but when he was asleep sometimes she thought the room could fall down around him and he wouldn't stir. Hard to believe this man hit the gym then was dressed and in the West Wing by seven each morning. It was pure discipline, because though he wanted to be, he was not, by nature, a morning person.

She took a moment to stare at him. A few gray hairs in his five o'clock shadow. He was usually clean-shaven like the president. She enjoyed seeing him on vacation because he was so relaxed. She reached out and ran her finger over the stubble, taking in the long eyelashes and the pink lips she wanted to kiss. She'd studied his face many times, and she never got enough of staring at him, especially like this, when he was at peace.

She dressed and headed downstairs to make a pot of coffee but the machine looked like something designed by NASA so she figured it was best to not touch it. Instead, she walked outside. "Shit," she muttered. It took all of ten seconds for her to change her mind. "Nope." This was a different cold than D.C. Maybe it was that middle America, heartland wind. Whatever it was, it was too much for her so she went back inside and stood in front of the door.

With the backyard view, it made sense that much of the back of the home was windows, lower and upper level. The bedroom windows were the only ones with blinds. They were surrounded by open space and she couldn't see another home in an eye's distance. All she saw were mountains.

While she stared at the view, Rick joined the living. She could tell by the smell of coffee. Then she heard him coming her way but kept her focus on the view outside. He stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed the top of her head.

"You can't see it under all that snow, but we're just above the 7th fairway of an amazing golf course. And that," he said as he pointed, "That's Jackson Valley and Snake River. We must come back in the summer. You can see elk and bison on the river and bald eagles perch on the treetops that swoop down to catch fish. I would love to watch you SUPping."

"What's that?"

"Stand-up Paddling." He squeezed her tighter. "This place is like nothing you've ever seen. It'll make any city dweller want to turn in their briefcase for a pair of cowboy boots."

There was something about him extolling the virtues of prairie life with that British accent and expensive cashmere half-zip pullover sweater. What she loved most about Rick was he couldn't be categorized. He was unabashedly himself in what he loved and what he did. He could be seen front row of an MMA match and each year websites published his books of the year list. Her favorite iteration of him was going to Home Depot and helping repair her back deck then that night making a traditional Sunday roast.

"I bet you'd look good in a pair of cowboy boots," she said.

"I happen to think the same about you," he said as he swatted her butt. "Come on, you can help me make breakfast."

One thing she knew for sure was that he didn't want her help in the kitchen, at least not in a meaningful way. He tasked her with getting things out of the fridge or pantry, at most measuring things. She remained in her spot, still looking out at the mountains. "How often do you come here?"

"I used to come once a year. A group of us."

"Like a guy's trip?"

"Yes."

"Why did you guys stop coming?"

"They didn't."

She turned in his arms. "I've never heard you talk about it. Did you stop coming when we started dating?" Her hands were playing in his hair at the back of his head.

He shrugged. "Among other reasons."

"Why?" She still took her annual trip with her two best girlfriends. This year, it was Greece. They already decided next year would be Peru. Her friends accepted she spent less time with them, they loved Rick as much as she did, but the annual trip was a must, no opting out, not even for super sexy men. "You should keep coming. You seem to like it."

"We'll see," he said as he pulled her toward the kitchen.

She sat at the counter and watched Rick work his magic in the kitchen. He moved effortlessly. Like a pro. Like an artist. The way he cracked eggs, whipped things, turned things. Never in a rush, never too late. When he finished one task, it was magically time for the next. It was more than cooking; he had a flair. Her mother appreciated that he cleaned as he went along so by the time the food was ready there was barely evidence he had used the kitchen.

"Do you know why I love to cook?" He asked as he grabbed a plastic spatula.

"No."

"Cooking is a love language." He looked up at her. "You cook for the ones you love."

She smiled. "You usually do all the cooking. So what does that say about us?" She leaned on the counter.

"That I don't like the...um, blackening cooking technique."

"Is that code for burnt?"

"Nope." But he smiled and continued to focus on the eggs which he cooked like risotto with constant stirring and alternating off and on the heat.

He nearly dumped her on the spot when she cooked scrambled eggs one morning. She thought them simple enough - crack the eggs, salt and pepper then whisk and pour into a hot skillet - but he said she cooked them too fast, too long and basically all wrong. The only thing she got right was cracking the eggs before putting them in the skillet. His were gourmet scrambled eggs complete with chopped chives.

"What are we doing today?" She asked as they sat at the counter. He made the best eggs she ever had, even better than the ones at Seasons back home.

He took a sip of coffee from a handleless coffee mug, holding it near the brim. She loved the way he squinted when he sipped something hot or a stiff drink. Somehow it looked sexy or maybe she was head over heels.

"Thought we'd go into town."

There was no driver this time as they drove into town. He held her hand as he drove. She couldn't get over a farming report on the radio. The roads were cleared making for a smooth ride. She looked out the window; it was a winter wonderland. She could see the allure, living in a place like this and wouldn't mind coming back during the summer with all the outdoor activities.

They drove past Teton Village which looked like Santa's Village times ten with buses dropping off fashionable visitors ready to hit the slopes. They kept driving until they arrived at Jackson Town Square where everyone looked like real people. Everything seemed to move at a snail's pace. No rushing. No bad attitudes. People window-shopping and posing for pictures in front of the massive Christmas tree.

"We're here," he said and led her into a boot shop.

"What are we doing here?"

"I wasn't kidding. I think you'd look great in a pair of boots."

There were boots all around. She instantly loved the place never thing she would like the smell of rawhide. Her eyes followed Rick as he walked to the other side of the store. A woman's face lit up when she saw him and she wrapped him in a big hug. They talked for a little while and looked over in Michonne's direction. She turned away and ran her hand over a pair of boots. When she looked back, the woman nodded and headed to the backroom.

"Is the reason you stopped coming was because of what happened when the boys came here?" She asked when he joined her.

He looked away, out the window at the mountain range then gave her a look that said she was right.

"Rick," the woman said from behind as she joined them. "Harry will be right out." She turned to Michonne. "Harry will take good care of you and your feet."

"Bonnie, this is my girlfriend, Michonne. And this is Bonnie. Her family has made custom boots in Jackson since 1883."

"My husband's family. I married into the business." She smiled. "A vegetarian from Berkeley living in San Francisco when I met my husband. Now I'm a meat-eating, ranch girl."

"That's quite a change," Michonne said.

Bonnie shrugged. "For love, it was the easiest change I ever had to make. You remember why you're doing it and it's all worth it." She looked over at a customer waving to get her attention. "Excuse me. Harry will be with you soon."

"After this I'll take you for the best hot chocolate you've ever had." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "The secret is the whiskey. Only one or you'll be out like a light."

He wrapped his arms around her and sang I'll Be Home For Christmas along with Elvis Presley playing over the shop speakers. She had no plans of too much sleep, but the whiskey would help set the mood.

To be continued...