Page 111 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
Tom and Vicky Cullen strolled up to them, laughing, hand in hand. “What on earth have you got there?” Tom’s voice lilted with humour.
“Tyler.” Alex beamed with pride. “We just got him from the rescue centre.”
“Looks like you could have your hands full. He’s going to be big — look at the size of those paws.”
Alex nodded, untroubled by the prospect. “You could be right.”
They all watched the dogs frolicking together, chasing each other and barking with excitement.
“He’s a beauty, though,” Vicky remarked. “From the rescue centre?”
“That’s right. He’s had it tough and he’s still just a pup — almost ten months.”
“Well, he’s certainly enjoying himself now. Rufus will show him how.”
The two dogs were having the time of their lives. Already firm friends, they splashed through the shallows, raced up the beach and down again, rolling over and over and getting themselves covered in sand.
“He really is happy,” Shelley murmured. She felt a warm glow in her heart for the dog — and for the man at her side, who had given the sad, lonely creature a fresh start, a safe home, all the love he deserved.
Alex glanced down at her, smiling. “Could you come back to the flat for a little while? He’s taken to you. It might help him settle if you’re there.”
She hesitated. Was that a good idea? But she did want to help the big dog, and if staying a little while would keep him calm, it would be worth it. “Okay, yes. For an hour or so.”
“Good. Fish and chips for supper?”
“That would be good.”
“Okay. Time to get this mad hound back on the lead.” He called the dog’s name. Tyler stopped dead in the middle of his game, turning his head, puzzled for a moment. Alex called him again, rattling the bag of treats, and he raced out of the water, hurtling back up the beach.
But in his exuberance he suffered a severe brake failure and crashed into Alex, knocking him over and bouncing on him, licking his face.
“Right . . .” Alex laughed as he sat up. “I think that’ll be something to work on.”
* * *
The kitchen in the flat was a narrow galley, but well-equipped, with a large fridge-freezer, a ceramic hob and a microwave. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook,” Shelley confessed. ”I’ve never really had the opportunity to practise.”
“Neither am I.” Alex laughed. “But I reckon between us we can manage to unwrap a bag of fish and chips.”
He took the plates from the cupboard and cutlery from the drawer. “There’s salt and vinegar if you want it, and a bottle of wine in the fridge.”
She left the wine in the fridge, and filled a jug with water instead and carried it through to the sitting room, setting it out on the table with a couple of glasses.
Tyler had been sniffing around, but he scooted straight over at the sight of her. But instead of knocking her over, as she had half-expected, he plopped his back end neatly on the floor, looking immensely proud of himself.
“Well! What a good boy you are.” She bent and kissed the tip of his nose, and in return, got a slurp of a long pink tongue up her cheek.
“Ah, I told you he loves you.” Alex’s voice was warm. “Thank you for staying.”
She smiled up at him. The dark glint in his eyes hinted at the truth of what she had suspected — neither of them really believed that she had stayed just for Tyler.
* * *
“Mmm. That was good.” Shelley smiled as she laid down her knife and fork.
Alex nodded his agreement. “They do excellent fish and chips down there.”
Tyler had been hopefully watching for any titbits from the dining table. Shelley had secretly donated a couple of chips, and she suspected that Alex had too.
