Chapter 1

Is it a Bear?

“What the fu…”

I’m knocked backwards as a cold, wet nose buries itself into my cleavage. A series of snuffly grunts follow, wiry fur fills my vision, and a rough tongue laps at my face. My first thought is to panic. Obviously. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m being attacked. By a bear. Or a mountain lion. Or a yeti.

My mouth stuffed with this abundance of impenetrable fluff, I can’t breathe, and as whatever it is sits squarely on my chest, I can’t get up, or even scream for help.

A strong voice barks, “Off! Now!”

It brings with it a moment of clarity. I’m camping in the New Forest, there are no bears or mountain lions here, and definitely no mythical things from Himalayan folklore.

In less of a panic, the mass of what I can now make out is a grey and black brindle coat, thick and coarse, retreats and, as the face comes into focus, I can’t help but grin. I was actually kind of right.

“Bear?”

Deep amber eyes stare into mine, a goofy, doggy grin fixed on his face as I reach out and stroke his gigantic head and long, pointed muzzle.

And then it hits me. If this is Bear, then the owner of the voice outside must be—

“James?”

“Huh? Is that… No! Katie?” the voice questions.

“Yeah,” I squeak, heart beating double time as a hand appears through the flap of my tent and wrestles with an over-excited dog.

Except Bear isn’t having any of it, won’t be moved easily, and as man battles canine, it’s man that loses out, falls forward, and his head appears inside the tent.

Yep, it’s him. James Knight. Fuck. Of all the men I could have bumped into today, it had to be him. Six-foot-five of pure muscle and… Hold on, this isn’t the James I know. There’s no suit and tie, no clean-shaven face and gelled hair. Instead, there’s a mountain man. Tall, unkempt, beard just that little too long, and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. A t-shirt that stretches across his chest and hugs his biceps in a way that makes my recently lacking sex drive rev its engine in excitement.

As 180 pounds of Irish Wolfhound is finally pulled off me, I gulp in mouthfuls of life-bringing air and eventually manage to sit up. It’s only when James’ gaze drops to my chest that I remember I’m in the middle of changing and hastily pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. At least my underwear matches today, but scraps of white cotton adorned with tiny pink flowers probably aren’t enough to protect my modesty. Though, it’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before.

He backs hastily out of the tent and I fumble in my backpack for my clothes, pulling on denim cut-offs and a pale pink vest top in record time. Not an easy feat in a one-person tent you can’t stand up in.

I give myself the once-over in my compact mirror, the crimson nylon backdrop and my sheer embarrassment giving me a tomato-like glow. I’m mud-splattered, my general appearance screaming dragged through a hedge backwards, and with no time for make-up, all I can do is pull my dark mane into something vaguely resembling a ponytail, step into wellies, sigh deeply, and crawl out to face James.

“I’m sorry about Bear,” he says the moment I appear. “I guess he got your scent, he was off through the trees before I had a chance to stop him.”

“It’s fine. No harm done.”

I appear calm, am managing to string sentences together, but the world around me is spinning. The sun’s rays now cast dappled sunlight across the forest floor, but just an hour earlier I’d been grappling with my tent as the wind snatched at it, whipped it into a frenzied dance as I tried to hold it down. The sudden downpour had left me sodden, soaked through to the bone, but I’d been determined not to let a little weather get the better of me. After all, I had something to prove.

“He’s put on some weight since you last saw him. I hope he didn’t hurt you.”

James is closing the gap between us, Bear right by his side. It’s a lumbering kind of majesty, though whether I’m talking about James or Bear, I’m not sure. Both huge, domineering, looking for all the world like you should be scared of them. But I’m not. I know both of them well. Lived with them for a little over a year.

Bear is sweet, loving, cocks his head at you, an intelligent mind working hard all the time. And James is no different. It seems though, in the two years since I last saw them, James has undergone some kind of transformation, has started to morph somewhat into his dog. It’s not altogether unattractive. In fact, the grown-out beard and messy hair suit him, less sleek and classy, more rugged and wild.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

My thoughts are pulled away from the new aesthetic of a man I once knew, my attention captured by his voice, the same as always, calm, deep, and oddly hypnotic out here in the wilderness. Or it might be his eyes that are hypnotic. Sparkling pools of the darkest cobalt, flecks of silver, and infinitely deep. I never could look away, face-to-face, body-to-body, those eyes always demanded attention. Oh, the orgasms I’ve had staring into those.

“Katie?”

Shit. Must pull myself out of this. I’m not here to reminisce.

“No, no. Bear couldn’t hurt a fly. It was just a shock, that was all.”

Okay, this is fine, everything’s fine. I’m still making sense. I’ve not let my newly rediscovered libido run riot over all cognitive skills at least.

“That’s a relief. I made the mistake of leaving him with my sister and her brood for six months. Let’s just say he got used to being spoiled, piled on the pounds. Hence, getting out here, getting him active again.”

I’m hearing the words, but my mind is having a conversation with my body and the two aren’t co-operating at all. Listening has clearly gone to the dogs.

Bear nudges my hip with his head and I fuss over him, hoping I can find some kind of order in my muddled mind as I open my mouth to speak.

“You left him with Ruby?” I ask, a smile creeping across my face.

“Don’t,” he laughs. “I feel bad enough. You know how he is.”

“Four kids all feeding him treats? It’s a wonder he doesn’t look like a house. And how did he cope with the cats?”

“Five kids. Her and Milo had another, a little girl, Kyla. She’s just over a year now. As for the cats, he just refused to go anywhere near the entire area, wouldn’t even go along the path beside the building.”

I’ve never known such an enormous dog to be so terrified of cats. When I was living with them, if there was one even sitting across the road, Bear would refuse to leave the house. And Ruby and Milo run a cattery. I can only imagine the stress he had there.

“Hold on, why did you have to leave Bear in his idea of doggy hell?”

He shifts, rubs a hand over the back of his neck, those eyes anywhere but on me. It’s a reprieve if I’m honest, every second he looks at me is another moment I find myself wishing I looked less feral, more like the put together woman he knew, the solicitor I am, that we both are.

But his diverted gaze is allowing thoughts to creep back in, thoughts I couldn’t have while held by those deep blues. He’d have seen them, I’m sure. But now, as he turns away, scuffs a foot across the muddy forest floor, hands stuffed into his jeans, my mind wanders once more.

It wanders back to the house we shared, to the days and nights he was there with me, to when it had been good. And it had once been good. James Knight will always be the one that got away. Well, that’s not quite accurate, if we’re going with the fishing analogy, he’d be the one that I threw back.

I hadn’t wanted to, had loved him with everything I had. Him and Bear. But busy lives meant a lack of time, and when the only time we were spending together in the end were snatched moments, an early morning chat over breakfast or a late-night fumble, I’d grown frustrated, needed more.

Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot of love there, and the sex was spectacular, the best I’ve ever had, but I wanted the life we could have had. So, one day, while he was working yet another eighteen hour day, I moved out.

He didn’t call, didn’t come searching for me, in fact, until the moment we’d locked eyes earlier, I hadn’t seen him. I’ve always presumed he’d read my note and had either been angry or relieved, either way, he hadn’t wanted to see me anymore, didn’t choose to fight for us.

James is back to facing me, sneaking glances my way.

“I went travelling,” he blurts out eventually. “After you dropped me, I took a long, hard look at my life, quit my job, and decided to follow the dreams I’d once had.”

I definitely didn’t see that coming.

“You quit your job?”

He nods. “You were right, in the note, work was taking over. When you left, all those hours worked enabled me to take six months off and do whatever I wanted. I chose to build a new life.”

I’m in shock. The man who woke early every morning, threw on a designer suit and disappeared for nearly an entire day at a time, is standing here telling me he’s left behind the thing that had inevitably come between us. And my brain is screaming that sadly, I’m not the woman who will feel the benefit of that. Won’t be the one to spend time with one of the loveliest men you could ever hope to meet, feel his love and protectiveness, enjoy that fun and fearlessness.

“It was probably time you took a break. Which dream did you follow? Surf instructor in Australia?”

He grins, clearly remembering the nights early on in our relationship where we’d lie in bed, bodies tangled up after making love for hours, and just talk. We’d met through work, him working for a rival firm on the other side of the river, but there’d been this instant spark, and within a month, I moved into his place.

“You remember that?”

I smile back, feel my cheeks heat as those eyes penetrate my soul. “I do.”

There’s a flicker that crosses his face then. A moment he’s silent, a flash of something, regret maybe, but it furrows his brow and all at once I want to kiss that little crease away.

It’s gone as soon as it appears though, and he carries on, a smile pulling up the corners of his gorgeous mouth.

“I did go to Australia, and I did surf. I was obscenely bad at it,” he laughs. “I actually did a lot of research while travelling, you remember the adventure camp thing I told you I used to love as a kid? Well, I looked into starting one, buying somewhere.”

“That’s some career change.”

He scrapes a hand across his scruff. “It is. But it might mean I don’t lose something I love again because I’m working all hours.”

Is he talking about me? Did he actually care that I left? I don’t get a chance to wonder, to ask, he’s moved the conversation on.

“So, if I’m out here to let Bear chase a few squirrels and work off his tum, what are you doing here? It’s not really your scene.”

He’s got me there. It’s not. At all. I like my home comforts. “Trying something new.”

The narrowing of his eyes tells me he knows there’s more to the story. But it’s one I can’t tell him. He’ll think badly of me. And quite honestly, he has every right to.