Family, Fiction, Relationship and marriage, Writing

Farm cottage

Shane wipes his dusty boots on the doormat, then kicks them off. It’s a monotonous ritual that he performs when returning from the shed. But worth it. He’s not keen to risk Catherine’s anger.

She’s in the kitchen making scones for morning tea. What a woman. Shane thinks back to his proposal. How she hesitated, uncertain about life on a farm. But she’s taken to it, like a duck to water, so the saying goes.

Padding his way in socked feet to her now, Shane is aware he’s a lucky man. He slides his arms around her waist and nuzzles his lips into the back of her neck.

‘Hi honey,’ she says, with a giggle. ‘Teapot’s steeping. I’ll pour you a cup shortly. Just wanna get these babies into the oven.’

He’s not worried about his morning tea. ‘Babe, I’m thirsty for you.’

She turns around, still held closely in his arms. They kiss. The kitchen’s boiling—from the oven, the heat of the morning, or their passion, Shane can’t tell. But the moment is all-consuming; for Shane, but Catherine, too. He can tell by the way her body responds to his touch, by the way she kisses him back.

When they’re finished, Catherine straightens her skirt and apron and slides the tray of scones in the oven, while Shane takes a seat at the table. She pours them both a cup of tea. While they wait for the scones to cook, their fingers touch, their eyes meet and they are both thankful for each other.

Photo by Claire Brear on Unsplash


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