Page 65 of The Holiday Cottage

She could identify with the first part of that statement. Life did indeed suck.

Wondering who he was talking to, she peered into the car. Underneath a bundle of towels and blanket something moved. “Is that a...dog?”

“Somewhere under all that the muck. He’s hiding. He knows he’s in big trouble. He belongs to Valerie Kelly, a retired pharmacist who lives in the village. Her brother died six months ago and she promised she’d care for Ralph, but she has had health struggles of her own, poor thing, and there is no way she can handle him. He escaped again this morning so she called me, worried he was going to get himself run over. I was driving near to where he was last seen, and there he was, having a party for one in a very muddy ditch.” He glanced at the dog, who cowered guiltily under the blanket. “Don’t be fooled. He knows no one is going to hurt him. That look he’s giving you is pure emotional manipulation.”

The dog looked so pathetic she almost smiled. “Do you run a dog rescue or something?”

“It sometimes feels that way, but no, I’m a vet. Mostly farm animals, which is how I knew Jim Kelly. He was a farmer. I looked after his herd of prize cattle. For as long as I can remember Jim had a dog. The moment the dog died he got another one, and each one was called Ralph.”

“Why Ralph?”

“I think he just had the one name. Moved it from dog to dog. Anyway, Ralph is now the responsibility of his sister, and she’s not coping well. The dog is giving her the runaround. Her arthritis means she can’t walk him as much as she should. He needs to be rehomed, but she can’t bring herself to do it, because then she’d feel as if she was letting her brother down. But this little incident was the final straw. She’s worried the dog will end up dead.”

“That’s so sad.” She turned her attention back to the dog. There was something about him that tugged at her. “What will happen to him?”

“Well, he belongs to me now, which means he will have a life of being dragged around farms at inhuman hours and being fed when I remember to do it.”

“You’re keeping him?”

“Seems that way. I’m taking him home so we can get properly acquainted and I can figure out what he needs, but transporting him is difficult. He has some behavioral issues, because Valerie just couldn’t handle him. I’ll deal with those, but that’s not going to solve my immediate problem. He keeps trying to climb out of the car. I’ve been out on calls and wasn’t expecting to have a dog in the car so I didn’t come prepared.”

Out on calls. Was that why he looked so tired?

He was looking at her, contemplating something. “I don’t suppose you’d help? I’ve had to stop four times already. If you could sit in the back with him, that might settle him down. Once I have him safely at my place, I’ll drop you back to Holly Cottage. It’s not far.”

“I—”

“I can understand you’re cautious. You were probably raised not to get into a car with a strange man, but I can call any number of locals to vouch for me if that would help.”

Over the years she’d learned to trust her own instincts. Also, she really did have a black belt in jujitsu, and even though she hadn’t trained since April, she was still pretty confident that she could do damage if she needed to.

The fact that she was inclined to refuse had more to do with the fact she didn’t want company than any wariness of stranger danger, but then the dog poked his head through the blankets and looked at her with soulful eyes. His fur was matted and so caked in mud it was impossible to tell what color he was, let alone what breed.

She felt a pressure in her chest.

He was too much trouble for Valerie. He’d already lost his master, and now he was having to leave his home for a second time. From the look on his face he wasn’t too happy about it.

He probably felt lost and lonely.

I don’t want to be your mother.

She felt a flash of kinship, and before she could talk herself out of it, she was opening the car door and climbing into the back with the dog. The rejected needed to stick together.

The dog raised his head and gave a thump of his tail, as if agreeing with her thought.

“I hear you’ve been naughty.” She stroked his head, feeling caked mud under her fingers. “You’re certainly filthy.”

The man turned to look at them both and nodded approval. “He likes you. Good. That will help. If you could just keep your hand on him to reassure him, that would be great. It will take me under ten minutes to get home. I’m Miles, by the way. Miles McEwan.”

“Imogen.” And then the name suddenly registered. “Miles. You’re Dorothy’s vet.”

He glanced in the mirror. “You know Dorothy?”

How was she supposed to answer that?

She’d thought she knew Dorothy, but apparently she didn’t know her that well at all.

Her throat thickened and she stroked the dog’s matted head. “Sort of.” The dog nudged the palm of her hand, and she felt ridiculously comforted. He couldn’t possibly know how upset she was, of course, but it felt as if he knew.

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