Chapter Text
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The cool breeze was whipping through the trees, the peaceful rustle just audible over the music crackling through the speaker beside her, humming along quietly, her pencil scratching gently against the canvas. Really, she should have let herself settle in more, actually unpacked her suitcase instead of just rifling through the trunk of her car for her painting supplies, but there has felt like there was a shift the second the wheels of her car had ground to a halt in front of the tiny redwood cabin, her new boots crunching on the gravel, Newton yipping excitedly at her side.
Emotions bubbling up inside her that she’d pushed down and down until she’d done what any emotional mature adult did: Sprinted away into the middle of the forest, claiming the need to get away from the city, looking for inspiration.
And apparently she might have found it.
“Hey! Is this yours?!”
Kate looked up from her easel a little startled at the gruff voice, slicing through her reverie. A positively enormous man was stalking across the dirt towards her. His dark hair falling round his face, most of it tied back in a neat little bun at the base of his neck, his expression was mostly obscured by his beard but his brow furrowed, boots clunking up the wooden steps of her rented cabin. Newton wriggling delightedly in the man’s arms, tucked against the soft flannel of his shirt, desperate to lick at his new friend.
“He is, yes. Sorry was he bothering-?” Kate started, ignoring the clench of her stomach.
“You can’t just let him wander around! He’ll get hurt! Or he’ll hurt something.” The man said, thrusting the corgi into her lap, his calloused hands brushing her arms, the scent of pine and leather and something else overwhelming as he leant towards her.
“Look I’m really sorry but I was right here, and-”
“It’s fine just don’t let it happen again.” The man was already thundering back down the steps, his broad shoulders taking up an impossible amount of room, and Kate couldn’t help but wonder as she watched him disappear, his dark jeans slightly muddied. Suddenly he turned, walking backwards, as he called back, “And turn off your music! Some of us actually like the quiet!”
“Who the fuck was that?” She winced slightly as she saw him take a sharp left, carefully climbing the steps to the cabin next door, a beautiful thing she’d noticed the second she pulled up. With a verandah that wrapped all the way around. The man carefully took his boots off, lining them up perfectly, and stomped inside.
“Well, fuck.”
Kate sighed to herself, trying not to watch through the window as the man stomped through his cabin, tugging his hair free.
“Where were you buddy?” Newton yipped happily, jumping down from her lap his muddy paws leaving perfect prints on the legs of her jeans, and truly what might have stung most about this man was the fact that he wasn’t exactly wrong.
Kate hauled herself to her feet, following Newton back through the door, her stomach churning with anxiety as she covered over the canvas her pencil tucked back behind her ear.
“You need to be more careful, Bud.”
It should have felt sad, sat alone in the middle of the forest, with nothing but a corgi for comfort, but at the time it had seemed like exactly what she needed when she’d called a woman, Violet, and enquired after her cabin.
“Hi, I was wanting to talk to someone about renting…” Kate had searched for the name on the page. “The Bridgerton cottage.”
The woman on the other end of the phone had hummed apologetically, “I’m afraid we’re all booked up for the summer.”
Kate had shaken her head, though the other woman had no way to know she’d done it. “I was actually wondering about autumn?”
Static had filled the phone line for a long moment before the woman’s voice had started back a little more slowly, “It is available in the autumn but… you’ll want to go at the start of the season.”
“I was- I was hoping it might be available for the whole season? September through November?”
Silence had rung out again, “That’s… a little outside our usual tourist season, it gets- only it gets quite cold as we head towards winter. Snow might be earlier than usual, and there’s little in the way of central heating, just the fires.”
But still, the restlessness that had grown inside her slowly but inevitably as it always did had pushed her forward. “That won’t be a problem. I’m an artist, and I’m hoping to get some inspiration- a sort of series as the forest grows quiet for the winter.” I’m hoping I’ll grow quiet too.
The woman had sighed, and eventually, she’d agreed. “My son Anthony, he lives in the Cabin next door year round, he’ll be there if you get in trouble.”
Anthony. She wasn’t sure what she’d imagined, when she’d thought about the man who would live next door, she hadn’t really thought about him at all she supposed. But now, within six hours of being here she’d managed to piss off the man she’d be living next to for the next three months. Not that it mattered, she supposed, it was hardly like they needed to interact much but there was something in Violet’s reluctance to rent the cabin over the season that settled unease in her chest. The feeling that she might still need him, that made her groan, tugging groceries from the box she’d hauled in, enough non perishables so she’d only have to go to town every few weeks, and got to work.
Kate’s toe tapped nervously against the verandah, Aubrey Cottage whittled neatly above the huge oak door, set in the redwood cabin, waiting for the door to open, several long seconds passing by.
“What are you doing here?”
The same gruff voice from yesterday called out from behind her, unbalancing Kate a little as she spun towards him, jostling the plate in her arms, one of the muffins toppling over.
“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were out.” Kate had to tilt her chin back to look him in the eye even standing up which was a little disconcerting.
Anthony huffed, his arms crossed against his chest, the flannel of his shirt rustling. “Wasn’t out. I was in my shed.”
Kate felt her eyebrows raise a little stuck honestly, for what to say next. “Right well, um- I- I’m Kate.”
“I know.” He grunted a strand of his hair falling free of the bun, the flannel of his shirt rumpling, his eyes flicking over her face, his hand running over his beard.
“…right well, you must be Anthony, your Mum said you lived here.”
“My Mum is talkative.”
Kate couldn’t help herself, “Well I figured you inherited your loquaciousness from somewhere.”
Anthony’s brow furrowed, stepping round her to open the door, Newton sliding through after him. “Dog. Out.”
Newton didn’t move, and Kate scuttled through the door after him, “I’m actually, I’m here about him. I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, so I baked you some muffins. Granola ones, you seem like a granola guy.”
“I don’t need muffins. I have food.” He had turned away from her, hanging the quilted vest he’d been wearing on a carved coat rack, wooden antlers intricately carved instead of hooks.
And suddenly Kate couldn’t help the irritation flickering in her chest, startled at his gruffness, “What’s your problem with me?”
Anthony turned towards her, his eyebrows raised, “I don’t have a problem with you specifically. Just people like you, who come into the forest with no respect for it, fuck around for a few weeks to escape whatever they think they need to, then fuck off.”
It was the most she’d heard him say, his rich, deep voice stinging at her in the truth of it, and so naturally, she couldn’t stand it. “He was gone for about 15 seconds! And he doesn’t attack animals! Are you worried a rabbit was going to eat him?!”
“A bear might have!” He’d stepped closer to her, his enormous height crowding her, his arms bulging and still it didn’t feel as dangerous as it should have. Alone in the woods with a strange man who Kate had the startling feeling could have thrown her over one shoulder and carried her off.
She scoffed, “Oh! So you have a time machine in here! Given the last bear was killed in England around a thousand years ago! The only fucking Bear in this forest is you!” She jabbed at his chest with her finger.
His dark eyes burned into hers for a long moment, tension rippling through the air and then he did the last thing Kate expected him to do: He laughed. A tiny chuckle of disbelief before he bowed mockingly, “Well, I prefer Mr Bear, but if you take your dog and go I’ll let it slide today, Kate.”
She could feel her cheeks turning red as she lurched backwards, slapping the plate of muffins down on the dining table nearby, before she scooped Newton up, marching towards the door, Anthony’s voice calling out as she reached it.
“Hey! Muffins!”
“They were a fucking gift!” She screamed back at him, “Choke on them for all I care!”
And if she didn’t know better, she would have thought she heard the deep rumble of his chuckle again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stop it, Anthony, stop looking at her.
The woman from next door, Kate, he reminded himself, was sitting on her porch. The porch he’d grown up sitting on himself every summer, laughing to herself as she held her phone to her ear.
Anthony had been in his workshop yesterday, slowly measuring the maple he’d bought at the lumber yard last week when Simon had called him and shared his happy news, Daphne crowing with excitement beside him. And he really had been happy for his sister, of course he was. Daphne would be a brilliant mother, nurturing and soft and gentle, but it had served as a reminder of what he’d known for a while: Everyone else was moving on with their lives while he was stuck, doomed to remember every second of his grief forever. Frozen in this place where he’d been so happy, where he’d felt so loved and he still felt so much closeness with a man who existed only in his memory now.
So he’d gone to the lumberyard anyway, because that was what he did, when he had nothing but his thoughts, and he didn’t know how else to express his feelings. He’d grunted to his sister.
“Congrats Daph. I’ll make the crib.”
And that’s what he was doing, tying his hair back neatly with the leather lace he kept tied around his wrist, a pencil tucked behind his ear as he worked, losing himself in his work just like he craved and then he’d heard it, the curious Yip!
He’d looked up a little startled at the noise and he’d been even more surprised to find a portly corgi, panting happily in the doorway, its tail wagging merrily as it trotted towards him.
Anthony’s brow furrowed, irritation flickering in his chest. Every year people flocked here from the city, living in the cabin where so many of his childhood memories lived, the house he couldn’t even walk into anymore. Hadn’t since the day his father had died, and he’d left his family the day after the funeral, pitching a tent while he got to work, labouring and labouring until Aubrey cottage was finished, the designs snatched from his father’s desk as he’d left the house, and his hands were bloody. And now other people lived where his family had built their memories, coming and invading his reverie, overstaying their welcome, snapping branches with no respect for anything but themselves. He’d groaned, internally of course, when his mother had told him, on the one weekend a month where she visited with his siblings, that his ordeal was in fact not yet over for the year.
“Someone’s renting the cottage for the autumn, she’s arriving on the 12th.”
Anthony’s brow had furrowed, “We only rent for spring and summer.”
But his Mum had continued on, “Your hair’s getting long, Darling. You should have it cut.”
“Mum, we don’t rent for Autumn, it gets too cold.”
His mother had sighed, already rifling through his cupboards, putting away the groceries she insisted on bringing, “You live here all year round.”
“Well I hate people.”
She’d rolled her eyes, “Well perhaps Kate does as well.”
“Who’s Kate?”
“The woman who’s renting the cabin. It’ll just be her, so she shouldn’t cause much trouble.”
Well, apparently that wasn’t true. Kate, whoever the fuck that was, had brought a dog and was letting it roam around unsupervised. Another problem for his forest ranger hat to fix on Monday.
Anthony had lunged forward, scooping the dog up who wriggled madly. “Buddy, you can’t be out here alone. Badgers can be vicious.”
The little dog had looked at him with terrifyingly human eyes, before he nibbled at his beard. Anthony had scoffed, marching around the side of his cabin, scanning for the owner of this-
Oh no.
There was a woman, a little younger than him, he assumed, sitting on the porch in front of a canvas, the afternoon sun shining in her inky curls casting a reddy glow through it, her high cheekbones a sharp jawline a little startling, and his stomach dropped.
She’s a desecrator of the peace! He’d thought viciously as he stomped up the stairs his voice gruff.
Except she hadn’t been, she’d looked startled at his sudden appearance, a tiny gold ring shining in her nose, a kind smile on her face. And he hadn’t even given her a chance, panic already rising in his chest being this close to the house, he’d sprinted from there as quickly as he could.
And still she’d come back. Showed up on his doorstep yesterday morning, with a plate of muffins, smiling gently at him, pushing back the further he pushed.
It had been a long time, nearly ten years, since anyone had challenged him, since anyone had bitten back instead of brushing off his gruff demeanour. And something about the way her dark eyes had flashed dangerously and the smell of her perfume had swirled around him had sparked something in his chest as she’d slammed the door he’d crafted himself.
He’d stared at the plate off muffins she’d slammed down angrily all morning before he’d marched off to his workshop, spent ten minutes there, then marched right back inside, tugged the clingfilm from the plate and taken a huge bite of her granola muffin, a groan rising in his chest.
Fuck
He’d sat all night, a little unsure what to do, his eyes flicking out the window, curiosity brimming in his chest as he spotted her through the window.
Kate.
She was sitting in the kitchen, talking to herself, maybe to the dog, singing maybe. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure why he cared. He definitely didn’t, he decided as he watched her finish in the kitchen, settling on the sofa, the TV on for the night. She was odd, was all, no matter how- no. He wasn’t thinking about how her eyes had burned into his before they’d raked down his body, and how her lips had been full and-
He’d go to bed. He’d just go to bed.
Except when he’d finally settled, his contacts removed for the night, his glasses slid on as he read the book he’d picked up when he’d last been in town, his attention had been captured elsewhere.
A light had flicked on, next door, and he’d grunted, cursing a little when he realised he hadn’t drawn the curtains, and neither had Kate.
He’d looked over, just briefly, to toss her a derisive eye roll, nothing more, and he hadn’t been able to look away.
She hadn’t realised that their windows were exactly level, just a few metres away, the ground littered with the first leaves to start falling as the air cooled, Kate had her back to him her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders as she reached for the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her shirt and Anthony felt his breath rattle in his chest, his brain frozen.
Look away, fucking look away you pervert
But he hadn’t been able to, sat transfixed in bed, heat burning at his cheeks, his mouth unbearably dry as his eyes skimmed over the green lace her could see tight against her back, her hands reaching for her jeans, sliding over skin he knew would be so fucking smooth. The longest legs he’d ever seen, revealed to him inch by inch. And then she walked from the room, into the ensuite. But she didn’t leave his mind.
And now here he was, staring at her again, her plate that he’d washed and dried held in his hands, his stomach churning uncomfortably as he stomped towards her, her phone conversation finally at an end.
She was playing music again, something soft and a little wistful, a woman’s voice floating through the air towards him, Kate’s own voice joining in, her head moving side side side as she looked at the canvas in front of her, a pencil held in her teeth.
Anthony cleared his throat as his boots touched the bottom step, his knuckles rapping on the bannister.
Kate looked up, the pencil dropping from her teeth in surprise, her eyebrows nearly disappearing in her hairline. “Mr Bear to what do I owe the honour?”
The nickname fluttered down his spine, his feet shifting uncomfortably as he stared down at the plate rather than her, the image from last night burned into his mind, the inked lines he couldn’t make out just above them band of her knickers. “Didn’t think the plate was a gift.”
Her eyes narrowed, dark and beautiful, “Did you throw them out or did you eat one?”
Anthony shifted under her gaze, a strand of his hair tickling his forehead as his eyes flicked up to her, getting caught on the flash of colour across her sternum visible against her smooth skin. “I ate one.”
“And what did the Bear think?”
His cheeks were burning, what the fuck was-? “They were good. Thanks.”
She hummed, a slow smile creeping across her face and just for a moment, it felt like the first moment when the son broke through the clouds as you sat by the river, and your skin warms. Until he cleared his throat. “Are you a musician who paints? Or a painter who sings?”
Anthony wasn’t even sure why he asked, something had just burned in him for a moment to know anything about this woman who’d appeared out of nowhere and brought fucking something with her.
Kate’s eyebrows lifted again, her lips parting, “I’m an artist. I just like to sing while I work, it helps me think, a tiny bit of inspiration.”
Anthony nodded, the wind whipped around them for a long moment, the rustling of the leaves the only thing breaking the silence. “Okay. Your plate.”
He held it out to her, into the space between them, more for something to do than anything else. Kate stared at him for a very long moment before she seemed to sigh, unfolding those long legs from the porch swing making her way over to him, her bare feet against the wood.
“Shoes.”
“I’m sorry?” Her fingers brushed his as she took the plate from his hand before he snatched his hand back quickly.
“You need to wear shoes.”
A chuckle of disbelief floated through the air towards him, the breeze carrying it to him with the floral scent of her perfume. “Why are you so combative?”
Because I can’t be anything else. Anthony frowned, “I’m not. I’m the ranger here, and I don’t want you filing a complaint because you got hurt out here.”
“Don’t worry, Anthony, I’m not going to file a complaint about you.” Why was she still smiling at him? Even in the bemusement of it. Even as she leaned closer, her voice slightly conspiratorial, “Unless you leave your TV on too loud, disrupting my quiet.”
“Don’t have a TV, no luck there, Muffin.”
The nickname had left him before he’d even thought about it, just fallen from his lips into the space between them, his stomach dropping to the floor in surprise.
He stumbled backwards, desperate to get away from her, from the way she laughed and smiled and- Kate’s hand darted out and closed around his bare forearm, holding him in place, burning him.
“Sorry, you don’t have a TV? Jesus fucking- Come inside, we need to watch an episode of Drag Race and get you back in the real world.”
Panic rose on his chest, his pulse thundering in his ears at the thought of stepping foot inside that building. Anthony wrenched his arm from her grasp, heat rising in his cheek, stumbling backwards, his voice stuttering from his chest, “No! I don’t- I don’t go in there. I can’t go in there with you.”
Kate looked startled, her mouth falling open, hands held aloft, that plate still held in her left hand. “I didn’t mean any harm, I’m-”
“I have things to do.” His boots crunched against the leaves as he made his way back to safety, back to the tomb he’d built himself, her voice carrying after him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bear.”
But as the door slammed shut, and his chest heaved, he knew the very last thing he needed to do, was see her tomorrow, but he probably wouldn’t be able to stay away.