“All I’m saying is be careful.” He knew that she was going, and there was no changing when her mind and spirit were decided. “It’s deer season again, and I don’t want your mother getting phone calls for her daughter wandering helpless in the woods.”
“I wasn’t helpless!” she responded in vehemence. “I knew exactly where I was and was right where I wished to be. It’s our farm. I can do what I want. It’s not on me and it’s just like men to try and play hero in a story where they were never invited or asked to be!”
“Ouch, that last part hurt a little…”
“Truth often does,” she smiled, enjoying of the banter.
“Just be careful,” he said again. “I don’t know what it is that other men are after when they go into the trees, but you have a beautiful white-tail and if I came upon you in the woods, God knows I’d want to tag you!”
“You do.”
She laughed, her smile full and wide in see of how fast he flushed deep red, his smile’s catch and take as hers.
“Thank you for that…” he laughed as well.
“You’re welcome.”
Disarmed, argument was ended—if one could call it that.
“Have fun.”
“I will.”
“And I love you.”
She kissed him on the lips, hand’s touch of way raising evermore his flush and warmth as he held to her round and full of tail.
“I love you too. It was true. Another kiss—lighter, gentler, slow-removing in linger of its sense—her smile, hand’s touch, feel’s linger as her kiss, then whisper: “Hunt me when I’m home…”