Page 67 of The Holiday Cottage

“We’re here—” Miles took a left turn up a bumpy track and pulled up outside a converted barn.

Imogen stared. “This is yours?”

“It’s more impressive from the outside than the inside, so don’t get your hopes up.” He switched off the engine. “I spend most of my time in muddy fields, and when I’m home I’m sleeping, not mopping the floor. Right. Let’s get this chap inside and clean him up. Then we can start teaching him some manners.”

She opened her mouth to point out that she wouldn’t be teaching him anything, but Miles was already out of the car and opening the car door.

Imogen stepped out. The freezing air penetrated her damp clothing and she shivered, feeling the lack of a coat.

The dog whimpered and gave her a forlorn look.

“Imogen isn’t going anywhere,” Miles told him, “but I’m going to carry you indoors.”

“I’ll take him.” Imogen didn’t want the dog to think she was abandoning him.

Miles frowned. “Are you sure? He’s not a small dog. He’s fine, really. He’s only looking at you as if the world is ending because he wants your sympathy.”

“He has my sympathy.” Imogen gently scooped him up, blankets and all, and hoped she wasn’t hurting him. She wasn’t used to handling an actual dog, and he weighed more than she’d anticipated. The dog lay against her, and she wasn’t sure which of them was shivering the most.

“Here—” Miles removed his coat and draped it around her shoulders. She was immediately engulfed in warmth.

“You don’t have to—”

“Let’s argue about it inside.” He closed the car door and walked with her to the barn. “We’ll use the side entrance. That way I don’t tread mud all over the place.”

“This barn is amazing. How did you find it?”

“I bought it from a farmer who owed me a favor.” He opened a door that led into a large utility room. “This is where I clean off before I go into the house.”

He tugged off his muddy boots and then took the dog from her as she did the same.

The floor underneath her damp socks was blissfully warm. She could see how practical the room would be for a vet. There was a large stainless steel sink, and everywhere she looked there were coats and boots and signs that the occupant lived an active, outdoor life.

He gently lowered Ralph into the sink. “Let’s start by washing off that mud so we can check he’s all right.”

Again he used “we.” As if she was part of the dog’s future. She wished badly that she was. “You think he might be injured?”

“Hopefully not, but there was some barbed wire close by, so I want to check.” He pulled away the muddy towels that were wrapped around the dog. “I couldn’t see signs of injury, but it was snowing and we were both in danger of freezing to death so I prioritized getting him back here and calling Valerie to tell her he was safe.” There was a shower attachment on the sink, and he turned on the water and tested the temperature. “Let’s give him a shower.”

Imogen stroked the dog’s head to reassure him. “I’ve never seen so much mud. What breed is he?”

“Golden retriever.” He glanced at her. “You look cold. Why don’t you go and take a hot shower yourself? You’re wet and cold. I can find you something to change into.”

Golden retriever. She almost laughed at the irony. But not Midas. Ralph.

“I’ll stay with him until we’re done here.”

“I suppose you’re already soaked, so a bit more water isn’t going to make much difference. And at least this water is warm.” He gave a good-natured grin and rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscled forearms.

She turned her focus back to Ralph and covered the dog’s eyes as Miles carefully aimed the jet of water over his head.

They were just arms, for goodness sake. Arms.

Miles soaped the matted fur, loosening caked mud and rinsing and rinsing until finally the water started to flow clear and the dog’s coat started to appear.

“That’s better.” Finally, he turned off the water and ran his hands over the now-clean dog, examining him thoroughly. “He’s none the worse for his adventures as far as I can tell.” Miles checked the dog’s ears and wrapped him in a clean towel.

The dog looked almost as pathetic wet as he’d looked muddy.

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