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  NOAH:

  Camp Mountain Man #1

  by Kate Tilney

  Copyright © 2020 by Kate Tilney

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  NOAH (Camp Mountain Man, #1)

  Chapter One | Jules

  Noah

  Chapter Two | Jules

  Noah

  Chapter Three | Jules

  Noah

  Chapter Four | Jules

  Chapter Five | Noah

  Chapter Six | Jules

  Chapter Seven | Noah

  Epilogue | Jules

  Also by Kate Tilney

  Jules

  There’s no one better at making sales than me. After being the top salesperson at my athletic-wear company four quarters in a row, I’ve won an all-inclusive two-week stay to an Alaskan resort.

  Only, all-inclusive means something totally different here. And resort is a fancy word for roughing it in the middle of nowhere. If I don’t end up mauled by a bear or a moose, it’ll be a miracle.

  Though, I wouldn’t mind being mauled by the super sexy and broody owner of the lodge . . .

  Noah

  She doesn’t belong here. I knew that the second she stepped off of the airplane asking for room service. Polished and put together, I’d like nothing more than to get her messy.

  And I’m not just talking about rolling around in the mud.

  I shouldn’t want her, but I do. And the longer she stays here, the more I never want her to leave.

  Camp Mountain Man is a series of steamy and short standalone romances about curvy city slickers and the hunky mountain men who protect them in the Alaskan wilderness. Read NOAH if you like enemies to lovers, adventure, and a romance full of heart. No cliffhangers, no cheating!

  Chapter One

  Jules

  Knees shaking, I grip onto the rusty door handle of the puddle jumper as its wheels bounce on the rough, rocky path. If I’d known what it was like flying in one of these contraptions, I’m not sure I would’ve taken this trip.

  Okay, that’s not true. I worked my butt off the past year to be the top salesperson for Lady of Leisure, the number one athletic/leisurewear company in the United States. I sold athletic wear like my life—and not an all expenses trip—depended on it.

  When I heard a trip to an all-inclusive resort in the Alaskan wilderness was on the line, I couldn’t resist. Having spent most of my life following my dad and brothers on hiking and fishing trips, but most of the past few years stuck in an office in the city, the idea of spending two weeks somewhere rustic and beautiful sounded like heaven.

  But now that I see what rustic means . . . I’m not so sure.

  Straight ahead of me, I can just make out a tall wooden structure. On the promotional materials, it’s called a resort. Which seems a little generous considering rustic might even be too nice of a word considering it’s basically a pile of logs.

  Hank, the beefy pilot who looks like he stepped out of a Brawny commercial, waves to someone. I follow the direction of his wave and nearly choke on my tongue.

  Okay, up until five seconds ago, I was pretty sure Hank might be the most handsome, rugged man in the world. But the guy on the ground, with his full thick head of dark hair and beard to match, might give Hank a run for his money. Equally tall and muscular, I’d bet these guys drink two percent milk by the gallon. They’re just so wholesome and good-looking.

  “Noah will help you down,” Hank says.

  “Oh, I don’t need help.” I didn’t need it to become the top salesperson in my company. And I don’t need it to open a little door.

  “Suit yourself.” He throws open his door and hops out.

  Following his lead, I reach for the handle again and give it a push. And promptly fly forward.

  I’m about to eat dust when a pair of strapping, strong flannel-covered arms come around me. The force and strength of those arms are enough to knock the wind out of me. But that’s better than breaking my nose—or neck.

  Before I can draw a breath and adjust, I’m pulled upright and whipped around.

  I lift my eyes to meet the gaze of my hero—Noah, I think Hank said—and I lose my breath again. His eyes are like emeralds, framed by thick eyebrows. And with his face only inches from mine, I can see his hair and beard aren’t just dark. They’re speckled with bits of silver. In a few more years, he’s going to be a silver fox of the highest caliber.

  And under his beard, he has a strong jaw. I’ve never understood why anyone would comment on a strong jaw until now. You could cut rock—or diamonds—on that thing. In fact, every part of him is hard as a rock. No, not a rock. A mountain. He’s certainly tall and wide enough to be one.

  Those thick brows knit together and he clears his throat.

  “Are you okay, miss?”

  I nod.

  “Good.” He clears his throat again and his gaze flitters down briefly before meeting mine again. “I feel like I should tell you something.”

  “Okay.” I cringe at how breathy I sound.

  “Your, uh, top fell down.”

  My eyes widen and I look down. It’s only then I feel the mountain air tickling my exposed breasts. Apparently, in the process of falling—and being caught—my boobs popped out of the low-cut shirt I’m wearing from my company’s athletic line.

  “Oh my God!”

  Gasping, I reach down to push my breasts back into place and to pull the top up as far as it will go. I swear, while the company makes great, high-quality clothing, they really don’t know what they’re doing for us plus-size girls and our girls.

  I step back without looking and nearly trip. Luckily, my mountain man host is there to catch me again.

  “Thanks,” I murmur again, my cheeks flushing hot. “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Jules. I’ll be staying at the lodge the next two weeks.”

  His lips curve into a grin, and I’m left dazzled again.

  “I’m Noah, one of the owners here at the lodge. Welcome to Alaska.”

  Noah

  Though I know better, I can’t resist running a hand up and down this woman’s back. We’ve barely introduced ourselves, and it’s all I can do not to throw her over my shoulder and carry her into my bedroom.

  Jules grips on to my shirt tighter, and my dick grows harder. Maybe I’m only reacting to her because it’s been a good month since we last had a woman come to stay. And she was pushing sixty. But as I get a closer look and feel of the woman in my arms, I know I’m getting hard for her and only her.

  With thick, reddish brown hair falling over her shoulders and dark blue eyes the color of the clearest river, my gaze is drawn to the sprinkle of freckles on the tip of her nose. I’d like to lean forward another inch or two and kiss each one.

  Then there’s her body. Her full breasts are pressed against my chest, her round hips cradle my throbbing cock. I can imagine her bare, creamy flesh under my hands as I grip onto her hips and bury myself inside of her. It doesn’t take much imagination after I caught a glimpse at the sweet, smooth skin of her breasts just a minute ago.

  Clearing my throat, I release my hold on her and reach for her b
ags. “I’ll show you to your room now.”

  Nodding, Jules watches me closely as I lead her up the path.

  “Have you been to Alaska before?”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve never left the continental U.S.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “Seattle.”

  So, she’s used to mountains and water. “I lived in the PNW for a while.”

  “Really?” She turns her stare to me again and nearly trips over her feet. Dropping her bags, I grab her and pull her upright. She sighs as I set her back on her feet. “Sorry, I’m not usually so clumsy.”

  I arch an eyebrow, because in the five minutes I’ve known her, she’s nearly face-planted a couple of times. Coming upon us with crates and bags of supplies from town, Hank—the lodge’s cook who doubles as our pilot—just shakes his head with a chuckle. I feel a twinge of jealousy that he just spent an hour alone with Jules in a plane but shake it off. I have no reason to be jealous. Plus, I’m not usually the jealous type.

  But this woman brings out a side of me, a possessiveness I didn’t know I had.

  Grabbing her bags once again, I move forward. This time, I keep my hand on Jules’s arm. I’d hate for her to scuff up that beautiful face of hers.

  We step through the doors and she gasps when Ezra, my best friend and co-owner of the resort, follows us in with a pile of firewood. Again, I’m struck with the very real urge to plant my fist in his face.

  Pushing aside her reaction to Ezra—and my reaction to her reaction—I call out for Silas. He appears from the back office with the paperwork and key Jules will need. She listens to him, her mouth parted slightly. There are at least a dozen things I’d like to do with that mouth. And they’re all better to think about then the fact that she keeps eye-fucking my crew.

  She hasn’t gone unnoticed by them either. Though a harsh look from me seems to send them all running.

  Before he can offer, I swipe the key from Silas. “I’ll show the lady to her room.”

  Jaw set, I guide her up the staircase. Now instead of staring at the men, she’s studying the room like there will be a test on every knick-knack and every panel of wood later.

  Reaching her room, I throw open the door and nod toward the picture window on the far wall. “You have a nice view in here.”

  “It is beautiful. But you don’t have to look out the window for a good view.” She chuckles to herself before turning those dark blue eyes on me. I almost forget to breathe. “As one sales professional to another, I have to say, you’re marketing this place all wrong by calling it a resort.”

  My eyes narrow. “An Alaskan resort isn’t the same as what you’ll find in Hawaii or Tahiti.”

  “You’re not wrong, but that’s not even the point.” She gestures around us. “This place is crawling with men looking to hunt and fish. But I’d guess you don’t get many women, do you?”

  I shrug. “So?”

  “You could double your business by throwing a few pictures of your crew—or yourself—on the website.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “You guys are walking fantasies. In your flannel and beards and bulging muscles. My girlfriends would totally come and spend a week curled up in your lodge looking at mountain men.” Her face lights up. “That’s what you could call it. Camp Mountain Man.”

  I roll my eyes. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell out of the plane.”

  She just laughs. “I’m telling you, as the number one athletic wear salesperson for Lady of Leisure, you have a golden opportunity here.”

  I pull the door closed behind me on the way out of her room. I shake my head on the whole walk to my office. Jules is really something. At first, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. But now, she might be the most interesting too.

  It’s going to be fun having her here with us for the next couple weeks. If I have my way, it could be a pleasure too.

  Chapter Two

  Jules

  After only a few days in Alaska, I’m pretty sure Noah and the rest of his mountain men crew think I’m an idiot.

  On the first night, Noah once again had to catch me when I went flying down the stairs for dinner. In my defense, I was holding up my phone in an effort to find bars. And I was only trying to find those bars so I could text my best girlfriends and let them know about the hotties with major bodies (and beards) waiting for them at this Alaskan lodge.

  When I finally did get some connectivity, I shouted the news far and wide with a simple message.

  Forget tropical islands, ladies. Paradise is Alaska. Where the men are tall and strong like mountains, and the women are scarce. (And the actual mountains are gorgeous too.) Can we say future ladies getaway?

  On the second day, I nearly fell off a mountain while looking at an eagle through my binoculars. Luckily, Silas—the quiet guy who usually works behind the counter—saw me stepping a little too close to the edge through the window and pulled me back in time.

  It didn’t get much better after that.

  I nearly started a fire—and knocked out the power for a solid hour—when I put both my phone charger and hair dryer in the same outlet at the same time. Ezra—the other owner at the lodge—had stared at me like I had a horn coming out of my head, or a third boob, when I explained what had happened.

  And I caused a minor scandal when I asked Hank if he could make me a green smoothie for breakfast just yesterday. The rest of the guests gaped at me while downing plate after plate of bacon and eggs.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love bacon and eggs. And Hank makes the best hamburgers and steaks I’ve ever had. But if I don’t get a fruit or vegetable—that isn’t also a starch like potatoes and corn—soon, I’m afraid I might get scurvy.

  So, really, I can’t blame Noah for eyeing me cautiously when I show up for his fishing excursion on day four. I even overhear a few of the guests grumble about how I’m going to hold them back.

  Bunch of jerks. Just wait till I show up with my entourage of besties for our own Camp Mountain Man. They won’t have any complaints then.

  Today, instead of going to the river, Noah is leading the group out to the nearby lake. The men pair off into boats, leaving me with Noah.

  He has the decency not to complain, but he does look a little worried.

  “I promise, I’m actually pretty good at fishing.” I hold onto his hand as I step into the boat, gripping tighter when it sways. “My dad and brothers used to take me with them.”

  He arches one of those dark eyebrows. “You dad and brothers go fishing?”

  I shrug. “We live in the Pacific Northwest. It’s in our blood.”

  “Fair enough.” He takes the oars, and I don’t protest. I’d rather let him get us to a good spot than listen to him make rude comments about my control of the boat.

  A few minutes later, we reach a point near the middle of the lake.

  He hands me an oar and opens his mouth—probably to give me some instructions—but I reach into the bucket of worms and bait my hook before he can get a word out.

  A slow grin spreads across his lips, and I’m temporarily dazzled by it. Darn him.

  “Okay, you weren’t lying about knowing what to do.”

  Recovering somewhat, I stick my tongue out at him playfully, while wishing I was better with witty banter. After baiting his own hook, we cast off and wait for a bite.

  “Do you fly fish too?”

  I nod. “I’ve even gone deep sea fishing a few times.”

  “No kidding. I like a girl who knows her way around a pole.”

  I swallow hard at that, imagining what it might be like to handle his pole. I’m in the middle of a vivid daydream where I’m kneeled between his knees showing him just how good I am with a pole when I feel a tug on my line.

  “Oh!” I jerk up, bracing myself as I bring in my catch.

  I can’t help but puff up with pride as Noah calls out encouragement and praise. He’s there and ready with a net as I pull a gi
ant salmon out of the water. It wriggles as I drop it in the net and remove the hook.

  “My dad wasn’t joking.” I beam at Noah. “He said you can practically stick your hand into any body of water in Alaska and pluck out a salmon.”

  “There’s a bit more to it than that. But you did good, girl.”

  I hand him my phone. “Would you mind getting a picture of me with my catch? My dad and brothers will be so proud?”

  He takes the phone and holds it up. He snaps a picture and grins.

  “You both look gorgeous.”

  My heart flutters at that. “Here, get one more.”

  I stand up, only I do it a little too quickly. The boat sways and tilts. Until I overcorrect, flipping the boat and sending us flying into the clear blue water.

  Noah

  I resurface in the lake and frantically look around. “Jules. Jules! JULES!”

  Quickly pushing the boat upright, I turn my attention back to my search. Treading water—and still holding on to her damn phone in the damn waterproof case she’s so proud of—I spin around looking for any sign.

  My heart pounds in my chest and ears as seconds pass by. Where the hell is she? The possibility that she could be injured or hurt rips at my heart. I’m about to dive underwater to search when a good ten yards away, I see a reddish brown head emerge from the water.

  Releasing a breath—and saying a prayer and a swear with it—I toss her phone in the boat and push off to swim toward her. With every stroke, I order myself to be cool and calm when I reach her.

  When I do, she’s in my arms before I can ask if she’s okay.

  She lets out a sob as she clings to me. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Shh, it’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

  “But I flipped the boat over. You must think I’m an idiot.”

  “It was an accident.” Sure, this buxom beauty seems to invite trouble with every step she takes, but this is hardly the first time I’ve been thrown in the water.

  “I swear, I’m not usually like this. I can usually get through full weeks and months without so much as a scratch or bruise.”