Turning back toward the cabin, his car seems so out of place.
A fragment of the urban jungle, so mismatched with the splendor above.
Then that event planner voice sneaks through.
“We have blankets and citronella candles. Plenty to eat and drink. And a cosy fire, of course.”
Naturally, he's thought of everything.
Two neatly packed suitcases are whisked inside.
I steal another glance upward at the sky.
The cabin is rustic with a twist of modern comfort.
Sleek bathroom and kitchen.
Mattress like a cloud. Books lining the shelves.
Walls and ceilings made of stained timber.
And not another soul for miles.
???
Outside, Marco rolls his sleeves to prepare the fire pit.
Lifting the axe, he starts splitting wood without even breaking a sweat.
Swing after swing, the motion looks effortless, as if he’s done this a thousand times before.
Once again, I find myself smitten.
“Careful,” I warn. “I might start getting a crush on you.”
His lips curve slightly.
“I wouldn’t object,” he says. “I definitely have a crush onyou.”
Stacking the wood into a generous pile, he tosses several pieces into the pit and strikes a match.
An orange glow casts shadows across the clearing.
How is he even more handsome in the firelight?
“You have a crush on me?” I ask.
I know he does. But I still love to hear it.
Marco pulls me closer by the sleeve of my shirt.
“Even my hairdresser wishes I'd shut up about you.”
My heart melts into a puddle.
“And all this time you've been holding out on me,” I sigh. “You had me fooled with that clean shave and those fancy shirts.”
“Guess I’ll have to chop wood more often if it makes you this horny.”
