Just The Way You Are(56)

‘We’ll be there in five.’

‘Five what? Minutes? Miles?’

He stopped, swinging the rucksack that he’d insisted on carrying for me off his shoulders as though it was full of cotton wool. ‘Steps.’

He swung his mega-torch around to show me a clearing much smaller than the one I’d chosen. Maybe five metres across, twice that in length, it was wide enough for a canopy of stars above our heads, the three-quarter moon riding the treetops.

‘How on earth did you find this in the dark?’

Sam grinned. ‘You know me, wild man of the woods.’

‘Have you camped here before?’

‘Here or thereabouts.’

‘Well. Thank you for rescuing me from the risk of being shot. Next time I’ll ask your opinion on the best place to stay.’

‘Next time?’

‘You’re right. There won’t be a next time.’ I waited for Sam to untie the tent from the rucksack, and then made the mistake of taking a sip from my water bottle, so by the time I looked up again he was pushing in the final tent peg.

‘Maybe wait until the morning before you decide that. Although, if you genuinely want my opinion, book a proper, health and safety checked campsite – you can find “almost wild” campsites if you want the back to nature experience. Also, don’t—’

‘Don’t build a fire. I’ve got it. Lesson learnt.’ I pulled out my sleeping bag and stuffed it into the tent, throwing the rucksack in after it. ‘Right. It’s getting cold. I think I’ll try to get some sleep.’

Sam checked his watch. ‘It’s quarter to ten on a Saturday night.’

‘I’ve had an eventful day to say the least!’

‘When’s the last time you had a hot drink?’

I thought about it. ‘I made one just before you arrived but it got knocked over. Before that, it was breakfast.’

‘So I owe you a hot drink?’

‘When you put it like that…’

‘Give me ten minutes. There’s a rangers’ hut not too far away.’

‘Sam, I’m supposed to be doing this challenge by myself!’ I called after the shadow where his rapidly disappearing figure had been two seconds earlier. I mulled over the boundaries of the No-Man Mandate while I waited for him to come back, pulling on a hoodie and changing into my thick socks. Having a professional forest ranger escort me to a safe area was totally within the rules. I decided that having him bring me a hot drink to replace the one he’d caused me to spill was also fine. Inviting him to stay while we both enjoyed a drink, under the stars, wrapped in my blanket… that was definitely nudging the boundary.

Sitting on one edge of the blanket, sipping a creamy hot chocolate, Sam perched on the other and Nesbit snuggled in between us, marshmallows roasting over a portable firepit, the moon and firelight waltzing together in his eyes as he attentively listened to the highs and lows of my day, I had to admit that this completely broke the No-Man Mandate.

It couldn’t have looked more like the picture in my head when I’d created the Dream List if I’d tried, even down to me borrowing a woolly hat from a forest ranger who was starting to bear a startling resemblance to my Dream Man.





18





I woke up with a fuzzy head, aching bones and no idea what time of day it was due to the tent’s blackout lining. Nesbit, however, repeated the bark that had startled me out of sleep, then followed it up with a barrage of nose nudges until I clambered out of the sleeping bag to let him out, and a beam of daylight in. Following him into the open, I blinked my bleary eyes and tried to shake the dregs of sleep from my brain before pausing to assess the location.

Oh, now this was lovely.

Pretty in the moonlight, it was perfect in the early morning mist.

Lush grass, speckled with daisies and other blue and purple flowers, with a wide stream that ran along one border of the clearing. A weeping willow hung low over the water, laden with catkins, and a pair of ducks were gliding upstream.

I inhaled a lungful of sweet, damp air, almost able to taste the sunlight, and stretched both arms above my head, my brain-fog swiftly clearing as my senses woke up.

Nesbit suddenly stopped sniffing about the grass and started staring past me. After a second’s pause, he sprinted over to the far border of the clearing, behind the tent.

I could immediately see why. Instead of a row of trees or bushes, this side was bordered with a white picket fence lined with chicken wire.

And behind that was the rangers’ hut that Sam had referred to the night before. Only this so-called hut was the house that I had spent far too much time dreaming about during the past few weeks.

Two collies stood on the other side of the fence. They both pushed their noses up to greet Nesbit, tails wagging.

No wonder Sam had been able to find this secluded clearing in the dark. It was right next to his house.

I felt a prickle of annoyance, immediately chased away by a swarm of butterflies flitting about in my stomach at the thought of him, firstly pitching my tent so close to his home, secondly quite probably being about to appear at any moment, and thirdly… well. Thirdly, the butterflies just seemed to appear at the thought of him. And that was enough to make me feel annoyed again.

While I was busy feeling annoyed and aflutter, Sam wandered out onto the decking behind his house carrying a plate and a pot of coffee, a book underneath one arm.