Page 68 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
It appeared that the Cullen Organic Mill was a much more substantial outfit than she had imagined. No wonder Tom could afford a top-of-the-range SUV. That would have scored him extra points with Jayde — she always factored in the car a man drove when deciding whether she fancied him or not.
With a small shake of her head she closed down the laptop and went up to bed.
* * *
“What the... ?” Vicky scrambled out of bed and ran to the window. The garden was full of cows — a black-and-white mob, bellowing as they jostled their way through a gap they had broken in the fence to feast richly on the long grass and the vegetable patch. “Oh! Of all the stupid... Go! Go away!”
But yelling at the obstinate creatures through the window wasn’t going to help. Throwing on some clothes she raced down the stairs, out through the kitchen and up the lane to the farm.
With luck, Tom wouldn’t be there — just Bill. But, no, of course not. Bill was at the far end of the milking shed, scooping up the old straw and manure with the small bucket-loader.
As she hesitated, wondering if she should wait until he had finished his task, Tom strolled out of the farmhouse, a mug of tea in each hand, his scruffy brown-and-white terrier bouncing at his heels.
“Good morning.” He smiled — and her heart bumped.
“Well, it would be good,” she retorted tartly. “Except there are a bunch of your cows in my garden.”
A glint of teasing amusement lit his eyes. “They’re called a herd, not a bunch.”
“Never mind what they’re called, they’re in my garden and they’re eating my vegetables.”
He laughed. “They like vegetables.”
She glared at him. “I’m sure they do. But I don’t want them there, depositing all their smelly...”
“It’s called shit.”
“I don’t need a dictionary,” she snapped. “I need your cows out of my garden — preferably sometime this century.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay — I apologise. I assume they got in through the fence? I should have fixed it before. I’ll come and sort it out now.”
She ground out a terse, “Thank you,” between clenched teeth. She hadn’t intended to sound so hostile, but maybe hostility was safer — a defence against that treacherous sexual tension that had been building since their first encounter.
It was difficult to keep her breathing steady as she walked beside him down the lane to the cottage. She had to keep reminding herself that he was out of bounds — and that thosewarm looks and flirty smiles were just a game. He was a narcissist who thought he was God’s gift to women.
And he made her pulse race just by looking at her.
“So you’ve decided to stay?” he enquired genially.
“Yes.” She hoped he wouldn’t notice the slight tremor in her voice. “I thought it might be nice to stay for the summer, at least. After that... who knows?”
“You’ve got a job down at the hotel?”
“Yes.”Please don’t mention your wife.
To her relief they had reached her gate. As they walked down the side of the cottage, Tom burst out laughing at the sight of the cows contentedly cropping the juicy grass in the back garden.
“Oh dear. Gertie, was this your idea?”
One of the cows lifted her head on hearing her name, regarded him with one liquid brown eye, then turned back to contentedly chewing.
“Okay, girls, fun’s over. Gertie, Sheila — back to your own field now.”
He tugged up a handful of sweet, long grass and wafted it under the nose of the animal he had called Gertie. She lifted her head, tempted... And docilely allowed him to lead her back through the gap in the fence.
Vicky watched in amazement as the cows waiting to push into the garden backed up politely as the matriarch strolled through, her large rump swaying with each step, and those already inside followed her out to their own field.
He turned back to Vicky, a provocative grin on his face. “There. All done.”
