Authors: Kylie James
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Bearly
Yours
Chapter One
Carnegie. Rockefeller.
Morgan. Vanderbilt. When calling to mind the names of the great families who
helped mold this country, those are the big ones. They controlled the money. They
wrote the history books. The stories about them have now become legends. If
anyone says one of those names, grandeur and glitter just came to mind. Those
names held power to get you in any door and get you whatever you wanted.
His family was no less
influential or wealthy. The money his forefathers amassed grew to be the same
kind of substantial fortune. Somehow, though, they managed to stay out of the
limelight. The history books didn’t know the name Wallace. There were no
libraries or museums named after his family and no boulevards or beach houses
that they owned. It was such a common name. In fact, it could be easily blended
in with the other Wallaces without a penny to their name. They had been able to
fly under the radar for decades, and they’d all been happy about that.
That suited Lars Wallace
just fine. He didn’t want notoriety, or the limelight, or the ridiculous
responsibility of a namesake library. He just wanted to live his life
alone
without the pressures society placed on someone of his kind. He didn’t consider
himself even close to a people person.
It was hard to say when
the change was introduced into his family. He was pretty sure it came from his
mother’s side. Maybe his grandmother’s, she was a feisty little lady. The only
thing he could tell with any certainty was that it followed a female line of
his genealogy. He’d done extensive research of his family tree over the years,
but couldn’t pinpoint the exact branch that introduced it. There were many
great men in his family, and they’d all respectively kept to themselves, yet
they’d all been able to find women to be by their sides. All he knew for
certain was that he was better off living by himself. Sure, it made him a
hermit, and sometimes, he thought it might be nice to have someone to share a
joke with, if he ever told one, but the risk outweighed that hope.
With endless money at
his disposal, Lars had created his own personal paradise in the deepest part of
the woods. He purchased a thousand acres to ensure his privacy and had a cabin
built smack-dab in the middle of it. The necessary materials were flown in by
helicopter to avoid the need for a road, and he found all he required to
survive in the forest surrounding him. It was the peaceful existence he’d
always wanted growing up, and nothing was going to drag him from it now.
That is, until his
simple life of solitude crashed into the wall of the storm.
Being what he was, he
could sense the moment the weather began to change. On the increased breeze, he
could also sense that there was an intruder on his property. Being so isolated,
naturally, he wanted the unwanted guest gone as soon as possible; preferably
before the storm hit and he was caught out in it.
Following the scent
through the forest, Lars quickly located the encroacher. Her campsite was about
two miles from his cabin—entirely too close for his liking. He needed her gone
like it was yesterday, but the storm was picking up, and his new concern was
now for her safety. Having situated herself so deeply onto his property, she may
not be able to make it back to civilization before getting caught up in the
approaching weather. He found himself wondering when he started caring about
anyone, but himself.
From his vantage point,
he could watch her without worry of being discovered. He’d learned long ago how
to blend in with his surroundings. This woman didn’t have the same kind of
compulsion. Her coat was blazing yellow with grey reflective strips
strategically placed in a randomly decorative pattern by the manufacturer. Her
boots, while clearly designed for hiking, were pink and purple, and caused him
to roll his eyes in disgust. Deep in the woods was no place for a fashion show.
What kind of spoiled child had he ran into?
In contrast, Lars wore a
dark green plaid shirt made of wool. Beneath it, he’d layered a long-sleeve,
black thermal tee. His heavy-duty canvas pants were brown. If he stood still,
he almost completely disappeared into the foliage around him. Add his thick,
dark beard and long hair of the same shade, and he figured he looked like the
stereotypical woodsman hermit.
The woman he was
watching, while obviously not unfamiliar with the woods, in no way had the same
level of experience. He also noticed that her equipment looked a little too
shiny as well. And she had a ton of it. Cameras, both video and still, two
laptops, monitoring devices of some sort, and what looked to be a small weather
station, joined her extensive camping gear. Too bad she wasn’t competent enough
to keep track of her changing situation well enough to know she was in imminent
danger.
Lars had just made up
his mind to reveal himself and instruct her to leave his property when he heard
a long, low groaning creak from above. Looking up, he saw the deadfall tree
that had landed precariously against another some time ago. With the increased
winds moving its smaller supporting structure, the large menace was now on the
verge of dropping to the ground.
A loud crack signaled
the release of the smaller of the branches holding the burdensome weight, and
Lars leaped into action. Shoving the underbrush and saplings he’d used to
conceal himself out of his way, he bounded into her campsite. The woman whirled
around at the sound of him crashing toward her, but could barely vocalize a
surprised gasp before he wrapped his arms around her slight body and shoved her
out of harm’s way.
The massive tree came
tumbling down in the middle of her site, turning slightly as it fell, its
course decided by the limbs that pushed it to the side. The ground shook when
it hit, crushing her tent and half her gear. It would have crushed her had Lars
not interceded.
Chapter
Two
Lying on her back, the
wind briefly knocked from her lungs, she blinked up at him with a stunned
expression. Her body shook as the situation grasped ahold of her brain and she
realized what could have happened.
“Are you hurt?” he
asked, his deep voice low and slightly irritated.
She shook her head,
still apparently speechless by his sudden appearance and the near-death
experience.
Lars let go of her and
pushed himself up, not bothering to offer her a hand in rising as well. All
he’d wanted to do was get rid of an unwanted intruder on his land and not have
to risk his own life saving the ignorant woman. Again, he found himself
wondering when he started to care about anyone but himself.
“Why are you here?” he
asked as he crossed his arms over his massive chest and leaned back against the
trunk of the tree that could have taken both their lives.
Pulling in a shaky
breath, the woman slowly eased upright as well and held a trembling hand to the
side of her face.
“I don’t . . . th-thank
you. You . . . you saved my life,” she stammered.
Her gratitude didn’t
sway him. “I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t trespassing. Why are you
here?” he repeated.
“I’m, um, researching
the diversity of the ecosystem in this area. I didn’t realize I was on private
property,” she replied, seemingly regaining her wits.
“You are,” he pointed
out succinctly.
The woman stood and
offered him her hand. “I’m Caroline Miller. I work at the university in the
ecology department. This research is for a grant I’m hoping to secure.”
His position didn’t
change, his dark eyes never leaving her face. After a moment, she dropped her
hand to her side and looked around at what was left of her campsite. Things lay
in pieces around them, electronics lay open and shiny pieces mocked her from
the ground.
“Oh no,” she groaned.
“All my work.”
As she climbed over the
tree to see what she could salvage, Lars heard another series of groans from
overhead. This part of the forest usually took the brunt of any storm that blew
through, and was, therefore, much more unstable to be in when winds increased.
Planting a hand against
the trunk, he swung his body to the opposite side and quickly grabbed her arm.
“It’s not safe here.”
“But my equipment. My
belongings. I can’t just leave everything,” she argued as he began dragging her
into the trees.
He turned and pinned her
with a steely glare. At six-foot-seven, his considerable height was already
quite intimidating. His inflamed temper should have had her cowering like a
scared kitten. Instead, she glared right back up at him.
“Do you
want
to
become fertilizer for the pine trees?” he growled.
“What I
want
is
to retrieve what’s left of my equipment before it’s destroyed too,” she snapped.
Then, she yanked her arm out of his grasp and hurried back to her campsite. She
grabbed what she could, and dropped what she couldn’t carry. It was difficult
for her to choose what to keep, but another loud crack above her made the
decision for her. She had to move.
With an aggravated sigh,
Lars remained where he was, his eyes on the canopy above while she scurried
around gathering what she could carry. As soon as she had everything of value,
she returned to his side in a huff.
“
Now
you can play
heavy-handed Neanderthal and direct me to safety,” she snapped, her tone
equally as irritated as his mood.
He watched her stomp by
him in the direction he’d initially attempted to direct her, and wondered who
this woman was. She was completely different than any woman he’d ever met. A
part of him thought that maybe he should have just let the tree fall as it may
and be rid of the problem. Now, he was stuck with her until the storm passed.
That thought had him
moving to follow her, picking up the pace when the rain began to filter down
through the leaves above. He could feel the tension in the air and knew this
would be a doozy. They just made it to the small clearing around his cabin when
the first flash of lightning lit up the sky, and he grabbed her arm to hurry
her along. Some people seriously didn’t understand the threat of a storm.
As soon as they were
through the door, she carefully dumped her possessions onto his rough-hewn oak
dining table, surveying each one to make sure it was still in working order. Lars
shook the rain out of his hair and then unbuttoned his wool shirt. Although not
chilled, the material was wet and would need time to dry out.
Ignoring her, he walked
over to the stone fireplace that encompassed one entire wall of the open living
room and began arranging logs and tinder. Once it was lit, he placed his wet
shirt over the metal bar he’d installed for drying purposes and then set about
securing the cabin in preparation to ride out the storm. When he finished, he
stood in the middle of the large, open room, arms once again crossed over his
chest, and stared at the pervasive presence accompanying him.
Her smile caught him
off-guard.
“You know, you’ve got
that smoldering intimidation thing down to a fine art,” she chuckled as she
tucked her expensive digital camera back into her bag. “And you still haven’t
told me your name, Davy Crockett.”
“Lars,” he growled after
a silent moment.
Pulling herself backward
onto the table, she braced her hands along the edge and continued to scrutinize
him. “So,
Lars
, what’s a nice fellow like you doing out here all by his
lonesome? Is it like some sort of Goldilocks scenario?”
His response was a hard
breath pushed out through his nose. This female was very ballsy, and he didn’t
like it.
Chapter
Three
She caught on quickly
that he wasn’t fond of others near his quarters. She was a smart girl at least.
Again, she chuckled at him. “Okay, I get it. You’re not happy I’m here.”
“You’re trespassing,” he
pointed out for the second time.
“Correction. I
was
trespassing. Out
there
. You brought me to your home by choice.
Therefore, I’m a guest now. And might I say, your hosting manners are sorely
lacking, Davy.”
He resisted the urge to
bare his teeth at her. “Lars.”
“Right. Lars. Lars,
what?”
Uncomfortable with her
aggressive personality and pushy line of questioning, he chose to ignore her
instead. Before leaving the cabin that morning, he’d placed a stew to simmer on
the stove in the kitchen and went to check on it, adding a few pieces of wood
to the old, iron cooktop when he found the heat less than desirable.
He felt her eyes on him
all the while, but refused to acknowledge her. There were plenty of things to
occupy him around the cabin, and he busied himself while she merely sat on his
table. That is, until he heard the shutter of her camera’s lens snap.
His head whipped around,
his sweeping forgotten. “What do you think you’re doing?” he all but shouted as
he stormed toward her.
When he reached for her
camera, however, she moved away. They became engaged in a slight tussle over
it, resulting in her tumbling to the floor and him pinning her there while he
pried the offending item from her grasp.
“Hey, that’s mine,” she
yelled, squirming beneath him, but unable to pry his heavy bulk from her
person.
“Why did you take my picture?”
he demanded, staring down at her with a dark expression.
She gave back as good as
she got, not the least bit intimidated. “You intrigue me.”
His brow furrowed even
deeper, and he sat up. Handing back the camera, he gave her one instruction.
“Delete it.”
“Why?” she challenged.
Since intimidating her
hadn’t worked thus far, he decided to take a page from her book and laughed at
her audacity to defy him. “Why would I live in the middle of nowhere if I
wanted others to see my face?”
“Tell me your last name
and I’ll delete the picture.”
“Delete the picture and
I won’t throw you out into the middle of the storm.” No one ever said he wasn’t
a master at negotiation.
She glanced toward one
of the windows he’d shuttered, the sound of the strong winds all too clear.
With a sigh of defeat, she thumbed through the menu and then hit a button.
“There. Happy?”
“Show me?” he insisted.
Rolling her eyes with a
shake of her head, she turned the small screen around so he could see the
display. “You’re not very trusting.”
When he saw that she
hadn’t deleted the picture, as she had pretended to do, he smiled at her again.
“You don’t really give me a reason to do so. Now, delete the right one.”
She hit the button again
and the picture of him disappeared, replaced by a shot of a white tail deer.
“Wallace,” he offered as
he stood and retrieved his broom. “My name is Lars Wallace.”
“Caroline—”
“Miller,” he
interrupted. “I know. You already told me.”
Her smile was small and
slightly self-conscious. “Oh. Right. The whole tree thing. Thank you, again.
For all of that.”
“You’re welcome,” he
replied, but then turned away as an indication that he wasn’t really interested
in talking anymore.
That didn’t stop
Caroline though. “So, why do you live out here all alone? Running away from something?
Eccentric hermit? Deranged sociopath?”
“Anti-social,” he
replied bluntly.
“You seem plenty social
to me,” she said with an audible shrug in her voice. “I mean, you’ve
clearly
been by yourself for too long, but I can tell you were raised around people.
It’s not like you have a raccoon for a wife or anything. You
don’t
have
a raccoon wife, do you?” His obvious recognition of the technology she was
using showed her he was sort of aware of what was going on in the world.
“No, no raccoon wife,”
he chuckled, setting the broom aside. “I prefer possum. She sleeps while I’m
working and then heads out into the forest and doesn’t kick me when I snore.
The raccoon was just a passing fling before I settled down.”
With the initial tension
and animosity between them dissipating, Caroline took a much more affable
demeanor, while Lars toned down his preliminary bout of irritation at
discovering her on his property. He thought maybe being alone for so long had
caused him to forget the pleasure of an attractive woman’s company?
And she
was
an
attractive woman.
Long, black hair flowed
over her shoulders and cascaded down her back. Her green eyes sparkled with a
mischief that both troubled and intrigued him. She’d removed her coat not long
after arriving at his home, and he’d be blind not to have noticed her womanly
curves. Just because he sought solitude didn’t mean his natural urges had left
him. This Caroline Miller was a stunning beauty, and he’d noticed all too well
her attractiveness early on. It was her brash nature that had put his teeth on
edge. Now that they’d found some common ground, he could appreciate it a little
more. Her personality was nearly as strong-willed and dominant as his.
“So, what drove you to
live the hermit life?” she asked as she resumed her seat on the edge of the
table once more.
Lars leaned back against
his leather couch and crossed his arms loosely over his chest, one ankle over
the other. “I found I don’t enjoy being around people. Why are you really on my
property?”
“Working on a grant.” She
fixed him with a look that said, I already told you why I’m here.
He scoffed at her
stubbornness, but let it go. “How long have you been in the area?”
“About a week, but I
only set up camp where you found me the day before yesterday. I honestly didn’t
know it was your land.”
“Are you hungry?” he
asked, straightening and walking past her to the stove.
“Actually, yeah. The
crap I brought to eat holds up well for camping, but isn’t all that appetizing.
What’s in the stew?”
“My first wife,” he
teased with a wink. So, he could joke. He remembered his thoughts about sharing
jokes with another person earlier. It was easy with her, and that unnerved him
a bit.
She hesitated, but then
followed him over to the kitchen area. “Raccoon stew? Seriously?”
Pausing as he stirred,
he glanced down at her. “Still hungry?” He made a point to start stirring again
and brought up chunks of meat from the bottom of the pan.
“Depends. Is she in
there because she asked for alimony or because you caught her cheating?”
He chuckled and hitched
his chin toward the cupboard behind her. “Bowls are up there. Spoons are in the
drawer to your left.”
He filled each of the
two bowls she retrieved, and then handed them back. He also poured them each a
glass of water and then joined her at the table. While she contemplated her
meal, he dug right in, enjoying the delicious flavor of the thick stew, the
meat that had softened to the point of melting against his tongue. He was about
halfway through when he noticed she had yet to even touch hers.
“If you don’t want it,
it’s okay,” he said.
“No, I’m sure it’ really
good,” she replied with a quick shake of her head.
Still watching her, he
caught the indecision in her manner and wondered what it was about. She’d
seemed so sure of herself from the moment he’d found her in the forest.
A loud crash against the
side of the cabin caused her to jump, spilling the contents of both the bowl
and glass across the table. She immediately leaped to her feet and ran to the
kitchen to grab the towel hanging from one of the drawer handles.
“I am
so
sorry. I
didn’t mean to make such a mess,” she stammered as she hurried to clean up the
table.
Her frantic movements
nearly knocked over his glass, and he grabbed her hand to stop her. This female
was quite skittish. He didn’t enjoy skittish.
“Go sit,” he directed
firmly. “I’ll finish cleaning up.”
She retreated to the far
side of the cabin, curling up in the armchair beside the fireplace. Her sudden
swing in mood worried him, but without knowing anything about her, he couldn’t
offer a solution to the problem. Once he finished straightening things up, he
joined her by the fire, taking a seat on the couch.
“The storm should pass
by morning,” he eventually said, breaking the silence that had spread out
between them. “You’re welcome to stay the night, although I only have the couch
to offer.”
Still staring into the
flames that licked at the large stones, Caroline nodded absently. “Okay.
Thanks.”
Uncertain what more he
should say to her, he left her alone. He busied himself on the opposite side of
the cabin, but continued to watch her with a wary eye. She changed moods more
frequently than the weather, and he didn’t know what to make of her. But he
couldn’t very well cast her out into the raging storm to fend for himself. He
may be anti-social, but he wasn’t heartless. Maybe this was the way the female
acted. Perhaps they were a bit emotional. He would have to remember not to call
her a female when she had a name. Something told him she wouldn’t like that
very much.
When it grew late and
the added cloud-cover created an increase in darkness, he went around and lit
the lanterns affixed to the walls. Still, Caroline didn’t move from her
position beside the fire. He continued adding logs to it to keep the cabin
warm. Eventually, he collected a blanket and pillow for her, but left them on
the couch for her to do with as she wished. Then, he retired to his bedroom and
left her alone.