Fire Under the Stars

From the window of her kitchen, she watched him working, building the campfire. The sun had begun to sink toward the horizon, casting an orange glow across the fields and painting long shadows in front of the treelines. She saw the kindling catch with a small flame and Austin sat back on his haunches watching the fire grow. He was almost in silhouette, his back toward her, his broad shoulders clothed in checked flannel. And that damn Stetson!

She grinned. She loved that Stetson. It made Austin who he was.

She pulled a couple of bottles of beer from the fridge, grabbed a blanket from the sofa and walked out onto the decking, her long dress rustling against her legs. The air was still warm despite the setting sun, the hum of the wildlife as a backdrop. Birds starting to settle themselves in the treetops surrounding her cabin. Her little piece of heaven.

“I hope one of those is for me?” Austin was standing now, adding logs to the fire. She walked to meet him, watching the embers float to the sky as the flames rose in front of them.

“Here,” she says, handing him a bottle. He takes it from her with one hand, and snakes the other arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. “Hey you,” he says, huskily, before meeting her lips with his. He smelt of smoke and hay, from working with the horses all day, and though he was warm against her body,...