Page 85 of The Holiday Cottage

Imogen stroked Ralph, who was very much awake on the bed. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t. I only mentioned it because if he thinks that’s okay he will try and sleep inmybed, and that’s not going to happen. Nothing is guaranteed to stifle your sex life as a dog in the bed.”

She laughed, but part of her was curious. “Your girlfriend doesn’t like animals?”

“Currently single because, in fact, it turned out that my last girlfriend didnotparticularly like animals. She especially didn’t like the fact they had a tendency to get ill in the middle of the night, resulting in my frequent absences. How about you?”

His willingness to share personal information so freely made her feel better about the fact he already knew more about her than anyone else.

“Me?” She pulled Ralph closer. “I like animals.”

He laughed. “Sleep well, Imogen. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

And she was. Who would have thought she could actually have smiled after the day she’d had? It was mostly down to Ralph, of course. Nothing to do with Miles, even if he did have kind eyes and a good sense of humor.

Oh, who was she kidding?

Grinning, she put her phone back on charge and picked up the herbal tea she’d made before coming up to bed.

“You’re not supposed to sleep in the bed, but surely one night isn’t going to hurt. Don’t tell him, will you?”

Ralph thumped his tail and snuggled down with his head on his paws.

“I did try and get you to sleep in your basket. But that didn’t really work out, did it?”

She’d put his basket under the window in her bedroom so she could see him. He’d sat in it for less than a minute, looking hurt and sorry for himself, before joining her on the bed. He’d tried to do it stealthily, perhaps hoping she wouldn’t notice, but stealth and bouncy retrievers didn’t really go together, and his efforts had made her smile.

She knew she probably should have sent him back to his basket, but she’d been feeling horrible after the conversation with Dorothy and Sara, and she’d found the warmth of his solid body unbelievably reassuring. No wonder all her colleagues were crazy about their dogs. She’d had no idea a dog could be such a perfect companion.

She took a few photos of him, just so that she had something to remember him by when she was back in London.

She didn’t want to think about being back in London. Nor did she want to think about her mother. She was so tired of it all.

She turned her head and looked at the stuffed bunny Sara had given her, now on her nightstand.

As ridiculous as it sounded, that bunny felt like a connection between the past and the present.

Ralph whined, and she shifted her attention from bunny to dog.

“We should get some sleep. Christmas tree hunting tomorrow.” And she already felt nervous about it. They might be her family, but she didn’t really know these people and they didn’t know her. What if they didn’t like her? There were no rules that said family members had to like each other, her mother’s behavior was evidence of that. “Not sure I’m looking forward to it that much to be honest, but at least you’ll be there. And Miles. That should help.” She put the tea down and snuggled under the covers.

Ralph had apparently decided he’d done enough listening for one night and was already asleep with no sign of guilt or regret that he was on the bed.

Imogen had no expectations of getting any sleep at all after the activities of the day, but she closed her eyes and next time she opened them it was morning and Ralph was scratching at the door.

Bleary-eyed, Imogen glanced at her phone. “I cannot believe I slept all night!”

Ralph wasn’t interested in her sleep patterns. He whined, and she forced herself out of bed and pulled a sweater over the T-shirt she’d worn to bed.

“I’m going to let you out into the garden right now.” She grabbed socks and followed him down the stairs into the kitchen.

The floor was warm underfoot and she opened the back door. Snow covered the trees and the garden, glinting like sugar crystals in the weak sunlight.

The cold snaked its way into the cottage, and she wished she’d taken the time to find her jeans or better still, the fleece-lined leggings that she’d packed.

She let Ralph out and pulled on socks and her fur-lined boots. Then she stood in the doorway shivering and watched Ralph investigate his new surroundings, his explorations leaving paw prints in pristine snow. The garden of the cottage was surrounded by a high wall, making it both private and safe, but still she watched Ralph carefully. He was her responsibility, and she didn’t want him to come to any harm, although right now she was the one risking frostbite.

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