Page 19 of The Holiday Cottage

“You make the time.” She put the cake on the table and cut him a thick slice. “Where are you spending Christmas?”

“I’m on call, so probably in a stable, pretending I’m a wise man.” He suppressed a yawn. “Animals don’t stop being sick just because it’s Christmas. You are an incredible cook. Have I told you that?”

“Flattery like that will get you an invitation for Christmas lunch. Spend the day with us, Miles. Sara, Patrick and the girls will be here.” She was about to wrap up the cake for him to take home, but he put it on his plate and started to eat it. She hid the smile and cut another generous slice for him to take with him. “We’d love you to join us.”

“Do not invite me for lunch. You know what will happen. You’ll put the most delicious meal I’ve ever seen in front of me and then my phone will ring and I will have to leave to tend to a cow or some other four-legged beast who doesn’t know it’s Christmas. And you won’t speak to me again.” He licked chocolate from his fingers. “Trust me when I tell you that I have offended more people than I’ve charmed in my life. If you need proof, I can give you the number of the last woman who made the mistake of trying to live with me. I believe she has only recently stopped therapy.”

She wasn’t fooled by his flippant tone. She knew the end of that particular relationship had hurt him and made him wary. It had ended almost three years ago, and to the best of her knowledge he hadn’t dated anyone seriously since, which was surprising because she knew for a fact that he was the object of fantasy for all the single women for miles around, and a good proportion of the married ones. Plenty of people would be more than willing to tolerate his occasionally antisocial work hours in return for being able to spend time with Miles McEwan.

“If you’re called out, then I’ll keep your meal warm until you’re back to eat it. And I won’t need therapy. I don’t stress about small, unimportant things.” She sat down opposite him, nursing the cup of coffee she’d poured herself. “I mean it. Please join us. In fact, I insist.”

He sighed. “Dorothy—”

“Turkey, stuffing—”

“I don’t—”

“Maple roasted parsnips—”

“Damn you, woman. Fine, I’ll be there.” He stood up and loaded his bowl and plate into the dishwasher. “Will you be inviting any other waifs and strays? Just checking this isn’t a setup.”

“I thought I might invite Erin.”

He paused, eyes narrowed. “Erin from the bakery? Erin who is in her late sixties?”

“Is there another Erin?”

The sudden streak of color on his cheekbones told her that there was, or had been at one time, another Erin. Maybe his love life was more active than she’d thought.

“Erin from the bakery is a warm and wonderful woman,” he said. “I look forward to the pleasure of her company. Particularly if she brings one of her sourdough loaves. And maybe a cinnamon twist.” He closed the dishwasher and bent to make a fuss of Bailey. “Do you know how lucky you are living here? Having food put in your bowl every day?” Bailey’s frantically wagging tail suggested he did indeed know.

Miles straightened. “I should go.”

“Hold it right there. I want to hear about the other Erin.”

He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and gave her a wicked smile. “You definitely do not.”

“I’m a lonely old woman who deserves some excitement in her life.”

“My love life wouldn’t excite anyone, as you well know. And if you’re lonely I could bring you another animal. Paula Lightfoot’s cat had a litter of kittens this week. She can’t cope with them all.”

Dorothy felt a pang but ignored it. “Sara would kill me if I took in another animal. She keeps telling me I must learn to say no. Also we both know that if Paula can’t find homes for them, she will simply keep them.”

“That’s true.” He walked across the kitchen, but then paused in the doorway and turned to look at her. “Are you really feeling lonely?” The sudden concern in his eyes made her all the more determined to find him someone deserving. He was a good man, and good men were not to be wasted.

“No. I don’t have time to be lonely.”

“But this isn’t your favorite time of year.”

She shrugged. “In the past, no, but Sara and family are coming to me at Christmas, and the girls are so excited it’s hard not to get caught up in that. Better to focus on what you have than what you’ve lost, I always think. They’ll be here soon. We’re going to start decorating the house for Christmas. They come every Saturday.”

“I know.” He smiled. “How is the riding going? Is that pony behaving itself?”

“Thelma is a gem. Iris is doing well. She’s a natural. She reminds me so much of Sara at the same age. I can’t thank you enough for finding the perfect pony.”

“She needed a good home and you gave her that. It’s an arrangement that works for everyone.” He suppressed another yawn and she gave him a little push.

“You’re asleep on your feet. Go to bed.”

---