If there's one thing you can't admit outright to finding sexiness is when men are cutting down wood, especially a man you claimed as yours. You can't explain why the act of swinging down an axe and splitting wood in half in such a professional way makes you go feral. It's utterly embarrassing for a demure lady like yourself to be hot and bothered whenever Arthur took the task to prep the campfire.

You avoided following him during your ovulation period because whatever this man does is hot and him cutting wood? For your sanity you best avoid him.

“Darlin’, you comin’?” Arthur stood in front of you sitting on the many tree stumps, embroidery in hand. He looks down at you, gambler hat overshadows his cerulean blue eyes. “Jus' need t' cut some tree down south, won't take long.”