I slide down the front of his body. And his hands linger at my waist, and he kisses the tip of my nose before he lets go.
He ties the horses near the cabin and retrieves a blanket and two bottles from June’s saddlebag, and then we walk toward the dock.
The wood creaks beneath our boots, and water laps softly against the pilings.
Axle spreads the blanket, and when he turns around, he’s holding a beer and a small bottle of wine.
Condensation beads along the glass.
“Sorry. I have wine, but no spritzer.”
I accept the bottle. “Thank you.”
He motions toward the blanket. “Have a seat.”
I settle onto the edge of the dock. My feet dangle above the water. The wine bottle hisses softly as I open it.
Axle lowers himself beside me. Close enough that I can feel his warmth, and I lean into it. Soaking it in. Soaking him in.
I take a sip. Then look up at him as he leans back on his hands.
“Look up, Doc.” He motions with his chin toward the sky, and I follow his gaze.
And gasp.
The wine nearly slips from my fingers.
“Oh my God.”
The sky is alive. Vibrant ribbons of color dance overhead—green, pink, purple—moving across the darkness like liquid light.
I stare. “Is that …”
Axle nods. “Aurora borealis.”
My mouth hangs open, and I can’t look away.
The colors ripple and shift and flow across the stars. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe it.
“I didn’t know you could see them in the summer.”
“You can.” His gaze remains fixed on the sky. “Only up here on the mountain, where it’s dark enough.”
The lights intensify, and my chest tightens. I’ve seen photographs and videos of the northern lights, but nothing compares to seeing them with my own eyes.
“How did you know?”
“There were solar storms tonight.”
I glance toward him and blink.
“I heard somebody talking about it.”
I look back at the sky. Mesmerized as I stretch out on the blanket. The dock is cool beneath me. The stars endless above. The lights swirl and swim overhead, and it’s pure magic.
Axle settles beside me, and I lay my head on his chest. Neither of us speaks for a long time. There aren’t words for something like this.
Finally, I whisper, “Wow.”
