Page 68 of The Holiday Cottage

Imogen felt a rush of compassion. “Is he going to be all right?”

“He’s going to be fine. You might want to stand back in case he shakes and soaks you.”

“I don’t care.” She stroked the dog’s head and he rewarded her loyalty by licking her palm.

“Okay, enough. This love affair between the two of you is going to have to wait.” Having wrapped the dog in towels, Miles focused his attention on Imogen. “You need to warm up. That door over there leads to a shower. Everything you need is there, including clean towels. Go and stand under the hot water and by the time you’re done I’ll have found you some dry clothes.”

Imogen didn’t want to leave the dog, but she was truly freezing and the last thing she wanted was to be ill. She needed all her energy to handle what was coming next in her life.

She gave Ralph a last stroke. “l’ll be back in a moment. I’m not going far.”

Ralph whined and watched her until she’d disappeared through the door Miles had indicated.

It led to a surprisingly smart shower room, complete with towels warming on a rail.

She stripped off her soaked, muddy clothes and dropped them on the floor. Her skin felt icy to touch and she realized how very cold she was. She stepped under the jet of hot water and closed her eyes, allowing the water to stream over her hair and body. She wondered if Ralph had felt the same way. Did he know Valerie couldn’t keep him? Did he miss Jim?

Feeling sad for the dog, she reached for the shampoo, lathered her hair twice and then stayed under the scalding jets of water for several minutes. She wondered if she’d ever feel warm again.

Or maybe the chill came from the inside.

What was she going to do? Was she really going to leave without having another conversation with Dorothy? Was that even an option?

Even as part of her wanted to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction, another part of her had questions. So many questions.

“Imogen?” Miles’s voice came from the doorway. “I’ll leave some clothes by the door for you.”

She turned off the shower.

If he had spare clothes, then he was probably married, or at least had a partner of some sort. And why wouldn’t he? He was good-looking and seemed like a decent human. Also he was kind to animals, so it seemed likely some sensible person would have snapped him up long ago.

She stepped out of the shower, wrapped herself in one warm towel and rubbed at her hair with another.

Once she was dry, she reached for the clothes he’d left in a neat pile.

There was a pair of jeans that fitted surprisingly well, and a soft sweater in a shade of pale pink. She found a hairdryer in one of the drawers and finished drying her hair.

She emerged from the bathroom and almost fell over the dog.

“He’s been sitting there waiting for you since you closed the door,” Miles said, amused. “At some point I need to break the news to him that I’m his new owner and not you.”

She crouched down next to the dog, who was now also clean and dry, his fur a soft pale gold. She felt a lump in her throat. Here, right in front of her, was the dog she’d imagined. Only this dog was the real thing.

Right now he felt like the only real thing in her life.

She stroked his head. “Good boy. Aren’t you beautiful?” She smiled as he thumped his tail and pressed his nose into her hand. “He looks so much better without all that mud.”

“He’s a good-looking dog. I’m going to find him something to eat.” He glanced at her. “You look better.”

“Better?”

“Your lips were turning blue. For a moment there I was as worried about you as I was about the dog. I thought I was going to be dealing with a ripe old case of hypothermia. The clothes fit.” He nodded approval. “Good.”

“Yes. Thank you. And I do feel better.” She also felt self-conscious. He was probably wondering why she’d been stumbling along a snowy lane with no coat. “Do these clothes belong to your wife or something?”

“My sister, Lissa.” He piled the towels he’d used for the dog into a large washing machine. “She was doing some work on the place for me and left clothes here. I’m pleased to see them put to good use instead of cluttering up my home. Come through to the kitchen and warm up properly. I need coffee. I’m sure you do too.”

She followed him through to the living room and stopped as she saw the large Christmas tree that had pride of place by the window. “Wow. That’s—big. You’re a Christmas lover, obviously.”

---