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.

For reasons I would overanalyse later, I immediately ducked down behind the tent out of sight, waiting a few seconds, breath stuck in my throat, before inching my head around so that I could sneak a peek through the fence posts.

Sam was now sitting on one of his super-comfy hand-carved chairs, bare feet propped up on the decking railing as the sunlight glinted off the giant windows behind him. He wore a white T-shirt and aviator sunglasses, hair a rumpled morning mess as he sipped his coffee. There was a second mug on the table.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my Dream Life, right there in front of me.

Sam gave a cheery wave right in my direction then pointed at the second mug.

I would one hundred per cent, absolutely have gone and had breakfast with Ranger Sam if my phone hadn’t started ringing. I offered a quick wave back, as if it was perfectly normal for me to be peeking my head around the side of my tent, and went to answer it, buried in the bottom of my rucksack.

It was Steph.

‘Ollie! Oh my goodness, are you okay?’

‘Um, yes? Why wouldn’t I be? What have you heard?’