Page 28 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
Vicky had her eyes screwed tightly shut against the assault of that excited tongue, but she knew Tom’s voice.
“Rufty, here.”
The dog ignored him. Vicky had fallen onto her back and he was standing on her chest, subjecting her face to a thorough wash.
“He’s yours?” Jayde’s tone had undergone a magical transformation as Tom strolled up.
“Yes. I’m sorry — he’s only young, and he can be pretty boisterous, but he isn’t dangerous.”
Vicky had succeeded in wrestling the pup into her arms, laughing as he continued to wriggle wildly.
Tom grinned. “I think he likes you.”
“So it seems. I just wish he wasn’t quite so enthusiastic about it.”
Tom scooped the little dog up — the pup’s allegiance switched instantly as he tried to lick his master’s face instead.“That’s enough, Rufus. You’re going to have to go back on your lead if you can’t behave yourself.”
Vicky had managed to sit up, but the sight of Tom standing there did absolutely nothing to ease the racing beat of her heart. He had been swimming. His dark hair was slicked back but still trying to curl. His body was tanned and glistening wet. A smattering of rough, dark hair covered his hard-muscled chest, and his stomach was washboard lean above the band of his black shorts.
Her mouth felt suddenly dry. This was crazy — she’d never reacted to a man on such a purely physical level before. Not even Jeremy. She could feel her cheeks flushing a heated red, and looked away quickly.
Jayde had recovered her flirtatious manner — apparently the sight of Tom’s hunky body had caused her to forget that she had thought him boring. “Oh, what a cute little dog. Can I stroke him?”
“Of course. Tickle him behind the ear and he’ll be your slave for life.”
She reached out a tentative hand, still ready to snatch it back. “What’s his name?”
“Rufus. Rufty Tufty. Go on,” he urged. “He won’t bite.”
The little dog looked as if that was up for debate, slanting her a suspicious side-eye. She drew back, smiling uncertainly. “Yes, well... I’m not really used to dogs.”
“You’ve never had a dog?”
“No.”
“That’s a shame.” He glanced down at Vicky again. “It looks as if he’s scratched you.” He tucked Rufus under one arm, and reached down to touch her shoulder, where a red weal about two inches long had appeared.
“Oh...” An odd tingle of heat seemed to be spreading from the spot where his finger had brushed over her skin. Had she been in the sun too long? “Yes.”
“I’m sorry — he usually behaves better than that but sometimes he gets a little overexcited. It looks sore.”
“Oh...” Somehow she managed to find her voice. “No, not really.”
“Even so, you’d better put something on it when you get home.” That sounded like genuine concern. “Anyway, I’d better get this mutt on his lead and take him home.” He rubbed his hand affectionately over the little dog’s head. “Be seeing you.”
“Yes . . . um . . . goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Tom,” Jayde put in brightly. “Are you coming down to the pub tonight?”
He shook his head. “Probably not. We’ve a couple of cows due to calf and it’s my turn to keep an eye on them.”
“Oh . . .”
“See you around, then.”
Vicky watched him walk away. Behind her, Jayde sighed. “Mmm — he really is gorgeous.”
“Yes . . .”
