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He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “There may have been camping trips that involved Colin sharing his tent with a person of the opposite sex, me sharing mine.”

“And did you do a lot of hiking on those trips, or was the exercise more of a . . . different nature?”

In a clear signal he was done with the conversation, he turned the radio on.

She chuckled to herself. But as the truck continued down the highway, she found her mind kept looping back to images of a tent in the dark, the silhouette of a male and female inside. Luke emerging from the tent at dawn, sleepy eyed, bare chested.

Jealousy gnawed at her stomach. It seemed like the joke was on her.

* * *

Nostalgia threatened to drown him as Luke spotted the rickety wooden bridge across the stream. How many hours had he sat with Colin on the rock beneath it, listening, talking.

The first time Luke had visited the park, and the rock, had been on a school trip. He’d been so desperate to talk to someone, he’d nearly chewed Colin’s ear off.

The second time they’d sat on the rock, he’d cried.

“Luke?”

He gave himself a shake. “Sorry, what did you say?”

She shook her head, all those curls squashed inside her stripy beanie. “Doesn’t matter. Now I’m more interested in why you’re looking at a rock like it’s important to you.”

“I sat with your brother here many times.”

She looked down at it, then back at him. “Then we should sit on it, too.” Before he could stop her, she’d scrambled down and plopped herself on it, yelping as her butt hit the cold surface.

“It was summer when we sat on it,” he remarked as he followed her down at a more sedate pace. “Here.” He shrugged off his puffer. “Sit on this.” She lifted up to give him room to slide the jacket under her.

Arousal shot through him as his hands brushed against the smooth curve of her legging clad butt cheeks.

And now, unless he wanted a cold rear to match his cold, jacketless top part, he had to sit next to her on the rock.

With a hard swallow, he sank onto the jacket, his thigh inevitably rubbing up against hers.

“What did you talk about, on this rock?” She asked softly.

He hung his head and tried to focus on her question, not on the heat of her leg against his. “When we were sixteen it was school, girls.” Those blue eyes watched him steadily. “It was the place I first told Colin that Mum was sick,” he admitted, the memory pressing like a weight on his chest. “A year later, it was the place I told him she was dying.” He’d sobbed his heart out to his friend that time, but he couldn’t tell her that. As if she knew though, Anna’s hand slid through his arm and she squeezed, leaning into him. The gesture helped him regain his balance. “As we grew older, we talked about work.” He huffed out a laugh. “And women.” He turned to look at her. “That was mainly your brother.”

“You were a monk, huh?”

He looked directly into her eyes. “There was never anyone special enough I wanted to talk about.” When the blue grew wider, he forced himself to look away. “It was also where I decided to become an apprentice instructor for outward-bound.” He kept his eyes firmly on the stream below them. “And where I admitted I wanted to run an outdoor center one day. Small enough I can lead some of the programs. Big enough I can help loads of kids.”

“That’s your dream?”

“Dream, yes.”

“You say that like you don’t think it will happen.”

“I don’t.” He shrugged, his habit when what he was saying, meant too much. “I left school with the minimum. Didn’t go on to further education. I’ve got plenty of experience working with kids in outdoor centers, including outward bounds, in teaching climbing, in taking people on treks. But I’ve not got much in the way of paperwork to back any of that up.”

“You need to give yourself a break.” There was an edge of frustration to her voice. “From what I can work out, while other guys your age were focused on school, on what they wanted to do next, you were focused on taking care of your mom.”

His gut twisted at the compassion in her eyes. They held too much trust that he was the good guy in this. Sure, he’d taken care of his mum. Right until it had really mattered.

Clumsily he rose to his feet. “Time we got back on the trail.”

She huffed. “Conversation over, got it. But you could just say something along the lines of thank you Anna, that’s kind of you, but do you mind if we don’t talk about it anymore.”