“Get down from there this second, you…. you…. headache of a man!”

His laugh sounded from high up in the leafy branches. “Does that mean you like me?”

She grumbled and walked closer to the trunk of the big maple. Above her, sitting astride a branch that did not look like it could hold the weight of a grown man, Oliver swung his legs with the carefreeness of a schoolboy.

“Care to join me?” He grinned.

“I will not be climbing this tree, Oliver,” she said, struggling to hold onto her look of disapproval. She crossed her arms across her chest as if to show just how much she disapproved.

“Why?” he asked, resting his back against the trunk. “Afraid of what they’ll say? Oliver and Mary, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G….”

She picked up a stick and threw it upwards. He mock-ducked out the way. The stick was in no danger of reaching him.

With swift, sure movements, Oliver climbed to a lower branch and crouched, one hand gripping a higher branch to support himself, the other extended towards Mary.

“Join me, Mary.” His schoolboy grin softened into something tender. Something understanding. “Join me in this tree. Dinner can wait. Your parents can wait. Let’s stay here. Just for a little while.”

Her shoulders relaxed and her disapproval melted. Smiling, she took his outstretched hand, letting him help her up the lower branches until she reached him. He sat with his back against the tree, legs astride the branch, and positioned her in front of him, his arms going around her waist. They could stay in the tree. Even if it was just for a little while.