Page 61 of The Payback Plan
Great. Just his luck to agree to being teetotal when the woman sleeping down the end of the corridor was driving him to drink with her lush curves and her soft cleavage and those damn freckles.
His morning wood, which had mostly deflated thanks to his convoluted thoughts and reminders of how badly he’d treated Bella, re-upped.Literally. Oliver sighed. Time to get out of bed because the other option was to masturbate and he was damned if he was doing that in front of an innocent dog.
As if Casper knew he was on Oliver’s mind his tail thumped twice and Oliver levered himself up onto his elbows.
‘You hungry?’ he asked.
Casper’s leap off the bed was answer enough.
* * *
Five minutes later they were both entering the kitchen. Paige was standing at the large sink window, her back to him, looking at her phone and he paused for a moment, a hand curling around his gut. Her hair was up in some kind of twisty knot thing exposing her nape, curly tendrils springing out haphazardly from her attempt to contain them. She was wearing yoga pants like she had beenthatnight and an oversized white T-shirt, that completely covered her ass from his view. The neckline was wide, barely clinging to her shoulders and looked all stretched like it was well-worn.
As if to prove his observation, the left side slid down, revealing creamy flesh speckled with a fascinating constellation of ginger freckles and he wondered what it would be like to be the man who was allowed to snuggle up behind her, wrap his arms around her waist and put his lips to the part where her neck sloped to her shoulder. What it would be like to have her turn and smile then lean in and lay her head down and sigh into one of those long, unhurried Saturday morning cuddles.
Oliver blinked. Jesus, dude –what the what?What in the hell was the matter with him? He’d be making fucking daisy chains next.
Giving himself a severe mental ass-kicking, he said, ‘Good morning,’ with all the posh Brit boy politeness he could muster.
But that all fell apart as she turned, her freckles popping dramatically in her ashen face. Oliver’s heart kicked hard at her stricken expression. ‘What’s wrong?’
Forgetting all his lectures about keeping his distance, he crossed to her, his hands sliding onto her upper arms as if he’d been doing it for a decade instead of for the first time ever.
She looked at him, her hazel eyes huge in her face. ‘Casper’s owner just contacted me.’
* * *
The knock on the door Oliver had been expecting was delivered promptly at 3p.m. as arranged. ‘That’ll be her,’ he said, glancing at Paige who was petting an unsuspecting Casper from her usual position at the dining table.
The phone call had been a shock this morning; Oliver didn’t think he’d properly processed it yet. The damn dog had been in his life for a month – just one month – and yet, he’d become Oliver’s shadow. Sleeping on his bed, claiming the spot on the couch next to him, wagging his tail vigorously the second Oliver pulled on his beanie.
A month ago he would have been just fine for the owner to turn up and relieve him of the responsibility and the endless fucking dog hair but now? Hell, the damn mutt had wormed his way into Oliver’s heart and his skin itched at the thought of Casper not being there whenever he turned around.
But this had always been a possibility. The dog had anowner, that was the reality.
Gathering himself, Oliver walked down the hallway. Casper whined a little and he wondered whether the animal wasn’t entirely unsuspecting. On their long beach walk this morning he’d stuck close rather than endlessly chasing the ball and barking at the waves and the gulls. And during his bath he hadn’t tried to excitedly leap out or shake water every bloody where.
Even when Paige had pulled out the blow dryer which he usually tolerated with clear distrust, he had just shut his eyes and leaned into Oliver, standing patiently until it was done and he was all fluffed up and presentable for his reunion. It wouldn’t do at all for the owner to think he’d been neglected here this past month.
Reaching for the door as another knock sounded, Oliver pulled it open, plastering a smile on his face. The middle-aged woman was short and stocky and leaning on a walking stick, her hair completely tucked into the beanie on her head. There was nothing fancy about her clothes or her muddy old Jeep in the driveway. The deep crow’s feet around her eyes and ruts in her forehead hinted at a hard life but her eyes sparkled and her smile was warm.
Deep down he’d been hoping for bad vibes from the woman coming to claim Casper. Someone cold or mean or mirthless that would explain why Casper had run away. But everything about her exuded salt of the earth. Like she always had a batch of scones in the oven and a pot of clotted cream in the fridge.
She probably belonged to the bloody WI!
‘Hello there, my lovely,’ she said, in a thick West Country accent. ‘You must be Oliver. I’m Sheila.’
She stuck out her hand and Oliver shook it, her skin dry and rough in his grasp. ‘Yes,’ he confirmed. ‘Do come in.’
He winced at the formality of his voice but she didn’t seem to notice.
‘I couldn’t believe it when Derek from the butcher shop showed me the social media post,’ she said as she followed him in, a slight limp affecting her gait. ‘We’d given up hope. Fancy Doggo getting as far as St Ives. That’s over sixty miles from home.’
Just then, Casper let out a bark and trotted towards them, his tail wagging vigorously.
‘Doggo!’ Sheila’s face lit up as Casper greeted her, turning in excited circles, his tail flapping madly. Bending over, she petted his head and accepted his licks. Casper clearly knew Sheila. ‘You look right ’ansum. You’ve been on a fine adventure, haven’t you my bewty?’
Paige joined them and they both watched in silence as the two got reacquainted. ‘He’s been pining right terrible for my da since he passed a couple of months ago,’ Sheila said as she straightened. ‘Worked the sheep with him every day, he did.’
