Page 88 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“Oh? What about?”
“It’s... a novel. Set in the time of the Wars of the Roses. I did my degree at university on that period. It’s... kind of a bit of a romance, a bit of a thriller.”
“Sounds good.” He came round to sit beside her. “Can I read it?”
“I... um... it’s not finished yet.” She bent to tickle Rufus’s ear to hide the blush in her cheeks. She had felt as if her writing was a guilty secret. But he hadn’t mocked it, as Jeremy had — he seemed genuinely interested.
He dropped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “Bill’s on calf-watching duties tonight, so I’m free and clear. If you can take a break, fancy coming out for a drink?”
“That sounds like fun.”
“Although...” His eyes glinted with unmistakeable intent. “The pub will still be there in an hour or so.”
A mischievous smile spread across her face. “I like your thinking.”
He brushed his lips across hers, and, taking her hand, he drew her to her feet.
Rufus bounced along beside them to the stairs. Tom laughed, shaking his head. “We don’t need company,” he scolded gently, pointing back to the kitchen. “Stay.”
With a sigh of disdain the pup turned his back on them and strolled into the kitchen as if that had always been his plan, and settled himself on the towel that was still beside the range cooker, his head on his paws.
* * *
Vicky and Tom strolled along the beach, their feet crunching on the damp sand. And he was holding her hand. The moon was almost full, tracing a path of shimmering silver across the dark water of the bay. Rufus had been let off his lead and was chasing in and out of the waves, barking like a loon.
She had felt a little awkward walking into the pub with Tom. Maybe she should have thought of that before, and come up with some excuse, but her brain had seemed to seize up. She had been conscious of the interested gazes that had followed her, but everyone had been very friendly.
“My mum and dad are coming home on Monday.”
“Oh, that’ll be nice.” She smiled up at him, a hint of teasing in her eyes. “Have you missed them?”
“The farm’s missed them. I certainly didn’t begrudge them the trip — I’ve been on at them for years to go out for a visit, before they got too old for it to be comfortable, flying all that way. But it’ll be a big help to have him back — we need the extra hands with the girls. And I really need to balance out my time more with my other business.”
“The feed company?”
He glanced down at her, one dark eyebrow raised in question.
She laughed. “Jayde looked you up.”
“Did she then? What did she find out?”
“Not much.” She wasn’t going to tell him that she’d looked him up online herself — that seemed a bit too much like stalking. “There was a bit about you winning an award.”
“Oh yes — last year.” He grinned. “All dressed up in my penguin suit and playing the successful entrepreneur.”
“There was a picture. You looked very smart.”
“I felt like a prat.”
“Oh, go on — you must have been proud. It’s quite an achievement.”
“I suppose.” But the quirk of his lips betrayed that he really was.
“When did you set it up?”
“About six years ago. Our neighbour, Harry, died. His kids had moved away, neither of them were interested in the farm. His fields ran alongside ours and were organic too — we were concerned that if they were taken over by someone who’d convert them out of organic it could affect the quality of ours.”
He stooped and picked up a pebble and hurled it down the beach. Rufus raced after it, though he could have absolutely no idea where it had fallen among all the others. He ran around in circles for a bit, nose to the ground, then forgot about it and raced off into the sea again.
