Page 35 of Country Charm

He parks near a huge farmhouse with a large porch. I’ve never seen a house like it in person before. Even the houses closer to town don’t look like this one. It’s two, maybe three stories, all off-white siding with darker wood pillars holding up the awning over the porch. There isn’t a railing along it, so the porch is just left open, but there is a variety of planters and a few knick-knacks lining the edge. Dark shutters frame the windows and a soft light glows from inside.

“Is your brother home?”

“No, remember, he lives in a trailer on the property?”

“Is someone home?”

“Nah, I just like to leave a house light on when I’m out.”

I don’t wait for Hunter to get out of the truck and open the door for me. I climb out on my own and walk toward the house. I’m mid-step when something tells me to stop. I turn to my right and see a huge barn sitting in an enormous field. The space feels endless, airy, free. I can hear crickets, the wind, and running water?

“You have a river on your property?” I spin around to see Hunter leaning against the hood of his truck, his hands in his front pockets.

“Just a small creek that leads to our pond. I never really followed to where it ends, so it runs for a while.”

I spin back around and start walking toward the wood fence at the edge of the driveway separating the dirt and gravel mix from the lush green pasture. The fence is just three rails held together by thick posts. I climb up on the bottom rail and look out. My eyes have adjusted to the lack of light and the meadow has this hypnotizing look about it. I can see the wind dance across the deep green grass, lit up by the moon. It moves methodically back and forth, like gentle ocean waves. Then I see a sparkle, followed by another, and another.

“Hunter!” I yell, looking over my shoulder. He hasn’t moved; he’s just patiently waiting and watching.

“There are fireflies!” I can barely hold it together. I hop over the top rail and hit the soft ground.

“Hey! You don’t know what’s in there. Don’t go hopping fences!” Hunter jogs up behind me and hops the fence with ease. I freeze, holding every muscle stock-still.

“What’s in here?” I whisper.

Hunter walks up to me and snakes his hand into mine, linking our fingers.

“Fireflies,” he says soboyishly.

“Jerk,” I joke.

“During the day, there are animals out and about. So best not to make a habit of that.” I believe him and nod.

I don’t know a thing about animals, especially farm animals, and the last thing I want is to get on one’s bad side.

Hunter leads me deeper into the meadow and we start up an incline. I trek alongside him taking in the view of the natural firework show and the endless green space. When we reach the top of the hill my breath catches. There is no end to the space. I see a large pond on the edge, thick trees, rows of crops, and open fields. Everything is exactly where it needs to be. I’ve never seen anything like this. I’m shocked at how beautiful I find it all.

“It’s amazing,” I whisper to myself, and maybe a little to Hunter too.

He rubs his thumb along mine in our tangled hands and then pulls me closer to him. I turn to face him, and I’m stunned by how handsome he looks in this light. I can barely make out any details of his face; his hat casts a dark shadow over his brows but there’s a glint from the moonlight in his eyes. I can see the squareness of his strong jaw. Even in the most minimal sense, Hunter is an Adonis among other men.

I tilt my face up in request for him to kiss me. He complies with a simple pass at first, the brushing of our lips matching the sway of the wind over the grass. That only lasts as long as the single flicker of a firefly. Before I can act, he presses his lips firmly to mine.

I’m so fucked. I’m standing in a meadow with some cowboy god, making out in the moonlight. This isn’t the way my encounters with men usually go. They’re usually more direct, to the point, flash fires.

This flame is burning strong and fierce, and Hunterseems like the kind of man who can keep feeding a healthy fire. He knows what he’s doing, and I am out of my element.

Hunter slides a hand to the base of my head, weaving his fingers into my hair. He curls those fingers, and they apply firm pressure at my skull. Possessive and attentive. With his hold, he guides my head to tilt slightly, and the angle grants him more access. His tongue expertly dances with mine. There is no battle for dominance, just attention and lust.

I sigh at the feeling. I feel cherished in this simple moment. I haven’t felt this way in so long. Even when I had, it wasn’t in a romantic sense, but more familiar or friendly. The idea of romance usually has me dry-heaving. In this particularly picturesque moment to personify a romantic night, I am sighing and moaning.

Hunter’s hand that is holding mine squeezes lightly before releasing. His hold on my nape loosens and he pulls me from him.

I look into his eyes and swim in their gaze. I feel his pull, and in this moment, I don’t fight it. He has a small smirk across his lips, and I mirror it.

“Any of those city slickers tell you that you kiss like a fish?” He drawls, and my jaw drops.

“I do not!”

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