Page 35 of Finding Home in Hartfell
‘Prove it.’ Anticipation was dancing across her skin, butterflies snaking through her stomach.
‘I will.’
They had to wait until the client had been released before he swapped places with Gil, who by the grin on his face was clearly expecting an easy ride. Pippa hovered whilst a few children took aim, mostly missing until a sponge hit him on the side of the head. Then it was her turn and she lined up the first of her three attempts, frowning when it missed, and he smirked at her.
This was ridiculous, she couldn’t even make him suffer when he was trapped between two planks of wood. She refused to be distracted by him laughing, daring her to do her worst. Instead she thought of all the times he’d been rude, had deemed her incapable of anything much, even being a good mum, and her temper twitched satisfyingly.
She dunked her second sponge well, drips catching on her jeans and wellies when she lifted it. She took a deep breath, steadied her hand, and launched the sponge with every scrap of strength she could muster. It smacked him full on the face and she leaped in the air, squealing with glee as he shook his head, drops flying.
Her third clouted him on the nose, which felt even better, and if it hadn’t been for the children queuing, she’d have paid again and had another crack at him. Water was running down his face onto his navy polo shirt and when he was freed from the stocks, she wasn’t too sure she liked the look on his face now and sidled away, heading for the relative safety of the craft marquee.
‘Don’t you dare. That’s not the game we’re playing.’ Gil caught up and took her hand, gently tugging her back to the stocks. ‘Your turn. I want my revenge.’
‘If you were a gentleman you’d let me go,’ Pippa muttered, eyes catching on his fingers threaded through hers.
‘Then it’s a pity for you I’m no gentleman.’ Patches of water had darkened the polo shirt and her pulse skipped as he slicked back wet hair. He only let her go when he presented her at the stocks, and she reluctantly slid her hands and face between the planks. Given the debacle over the show, she was expecting a long queue but after a few children had tried to soak her and mostly missed, he was surprisingly the only adult. A small crowd had gathered, and she wondered if they thought he was going to do their dirty work for them.
She gasped when the first sponge hit her square in the face, the water cold and already running down her neck. His second belted her on the forehead before the third sponge caught her right cheek. She shook some drops away, tensed and prepared for him to have another three shots. Instead she was very relieved to be freed and gratefully accepted the towel she was offered.
‘Happy now,’ she retorted as Gil joined her, and she ran the towel over her face. ‘I’m drenched.’
‘So I see.’ His laughter fell away when his eyes dropped to take in her wet, clinging top. She hadn’t been expecting a soaking when she’d dressed and her fitted white T-shirt had been a nice combination with a jacket and skinny jeans. Her white bra wasn’t the only thing visible through her top and she tugged at the T-shirt, trying to separate it from her skin. The crowd hadn’t entirely dispersed, and she noticed a couple of phones out, making her fold her arms in panic.
‘Where’s your jacket?’ He stepped forward and she almost leaped back until she realised he was shielding her from sight, planting his body in front of hers.
‘I left it at the house when I went back for Raf,’ she muttered, trying not to make her gratitude for his presence too obvious. ‘I was warm.’
‘Here.’ The gilet he’d been wearing before the stocks was hanging on the back of a post and his hands brushed her arms as he slid it around her shoulders.
‘I don’t need…’ It wasn’t the cold she thought to avoid with his gesture, but the warmth, the distraction of having him so close, his chest almost skimming hers.
‘Your choice, Pippa,’ he said softly. ‘But maybe right now you do need it. Those phones pointing your way probably aren’t the only ones.’
‘Thanks.’ She zipped the gilet up, trying to look at anything other than him. ‘I suppose it’ll be on someone’s social media somewhere.’
‘I guess.’
Feeling safer, hidden inside his too-large gilet, she took a step backwards. ‘I’d better go. The WI have roped me into presenting prizes, which was a surprise. I was half expecting to be run out of town, not seated at the chairwoman’s table and fed cake.’
‘Make sure you don’t eat the exhibits. At least you don’t have to judge the novelty dog show.’ Gil rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll probably upset half my clients.’
‘I’d offer to swap but I don’t think I’d be any good at deciding which dog looks most like its owner.’ Pippa was very aware of her warm face, breath catching as he laughed.
‘How are you on the dog the judge would most like to take home?’ He quirked a playful brow and she swallowed.
‘Easy. I wouldn’t be able to pick a winner because I wouldn’t want to take any of them home.’
‘Shameful.’
They parted and Pippa was still smiling as she resumed her progress to the WI tent.
By the time she emerged – surprising herself with how much she’d enjoyed the prizegiving – the tug of war was underway in the main arena and Harriet had taken a place on Alfie’s team and was pulling the rope with all her might, encouraged by the commentator clearly on the side of the local Young Farmers’, and the crowd. Alfie’s team won and Pippa was torn between happiness at Harriet’s face when he swung her off her feet in triumph, and sadness at the parting to come. All this excitement and adventure must not lead to a broken heart, and she mentally added it to her list of things to talk to Harriet about when the right moment arrived.
‘So can I have my gilet back please?’ Gil had joined Pippa at the ringside, distracting her from thoughts of Harriet. ‘Are you decent now?’
‘What?’ Warmth darted into her face at the reminder of her wet T-shirt, and she laughed, covering her embarrassment. Of all the people to catch her like that… ‘Oh yeah, thanks. Think so.’
‘Want me to check?’
