‘Let’s worry about that tomorrow,’ he said hastily. ‘For now, I have to find her somewhere to sleep, and you need to go home.’
He got to his feet, walked her to the door and hugged her hard.
‘Thank you so much,’ he mumbled into hair that smelt vaguely of river mud. ‘I couldn’t have done that on my own.’
‘Don’t thank me. It’s not like it’s your dog.’
That pang again.
‘Yeah, you’re right, although I’d stake my life she belongs to the tenants. She needs to go to the vet to see if she’s microchipped. Goodness knows when I’ll fit that in.’
‘I can do it. I don’t start work until tomorrow lunchtime. If you give me the key again I can pick her up and take her.’
‘I don’t know any vets. I don’t know any anything here. I wouldn’t know where to start.’
‘I’ll ask Annie Shackleton. They’ve got a dog, she’ll tell me everything I need to know.’
He shook his head, then gave in, because something needed to be done with the dog, whatever. ‘Here—the spare key. You might as well keep it,’ he said, suppressing the thought that it felt vaguely symbolic. ‘I’ll leave her in the conservatory when I go, so if you could put her back there afterwards that would be great. There’s nothing there she can trash. You’ll need a collar and lead to take her, though, if your friend’s got one.’
‘I’ll sort it. Get to bed. We’ll be fine. I’ll see you at twelve when my shift starts, and tell you what the vet said.’
He searched her eyes, then nodded and bent his head to kiss her, just as she came up on tiptoe to do the same to him. Their lips clashed, held, and he felt fire shoot through his body. The kiss deepened, changed from an accidental clash to a very deliberate but tender caress that came out of nowhere and didn’t seem to want to end.
He wasn’t sure who backed away first, but she turned and opened the door and let herself out hurriedly with a little wave, and he watched her go, his emotions in turmoil, his body screaming in protest.
The dog whined at his side, and he dropped his hand down and found her head. ‘She’s gone, sweetheart,’ he said regretfully. ‘It’s time for bed. Come on, Tatty. Let’s find you a bed and put you away for the night. I need some sleep because I’ve got to be at work in five hours.’
Haha.
Between the kiss and the dog howling and whining in the conservatory there was no way he was going to sleep, so after two hours he relented and let her in, spread one of his new bath towels on the floor beside the bed and pointed firmly at it.
‘Down!’
She gave him a baleful look, curled up on it and stayed there, to his relief, and he finally managed to drop off.
For a while, at least, but when his alarm dragged him up to the surface at six she was there, lying up against him on the bed, her head next to his on the pillow.
He turned his head and glared at her. ‘Tatty, you can’t do this! Off!’
No chance. She grinned and licked his face, and he wondered just exactly when, if ever, she’d been wormed. He threw the covers off and got up, heading for the bathroom with the dog at his heels.
‘You need the vet, and I need a shower and some clothes that don’t smell of you, because I have to go to work. Do you want breakfast first? Probably.’
She polished off the rest of his loaf of bread, mostly while his back was turned, and she didn’t even have the grace to look guilty.
He put her back in the conservatory and went to work hungry.
Poor Ryan.
The look on his face when he’d realised he couldn’t keep her. Still, maybe by this morning he’d thought better of it. He’d probably thought better of their goodnight kiss, at least. She certainly had—hadn’t she?
Liar.
She got up, showered and washed her hair to get rid of the occasional whiff of river mud that was coming from somewhere, dressed in jeans and a top that didn’t matter, and headed for Annie and Ed Shackleton’s house.
They lived just round the corner on the seafront, and it was the school holidays so hopefully they’d be in. She pulled up outside their house just as Annie was walking back with their dog, Molly, and she got out of the car with a smile.
‘Morning, Annie. That was perfect timing!’
‘Hi, Beth. Are you OK? What can I do for you?’
Ten minutes later, armed with a collar and lead and an appointment with the Shackletons’ vet, Beth collected Tatty from Ryan’s conservatory and was about to load her into the car when a voice came from behind her.
‘She came back, then. I did wonder if she might.’
Beth turned round and saw an elderly man peering through the hedge. ‘Oh—hi. Do you know her?’
‘Yes, she belonged to the tenants. Said they were rehoming her but they looked a bit shifty about it. Did a runner in the middle of the night, too. Packed up a van and went. I reckon they owed rent again. So, you and your young man have taken it on, have you?’
For a moment she wasn’t sure if he was talking about the house or the dog, but then she realised he was looking at the house. ‘Yes—well, Ryan has. He’s not my young man, he’s just a friend.’
Why did that feel like a lie?
The man pushed his way through a gap in the hedge, and stuck his hand out. ‘I’m Reg, by the way.’
She freed a hand from the lead and shook his. ‘I’m Beth.’
Reg stooped and patted the dog. ‘He’s brave taking it on. They left it in a right old state.’
‘Yes, they did, but it’s better now. Reg, I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude but I’ve got an appointment with the vet.’
‘Better not hold you up then, young lady. Nice to meet you. And tell your Ryan if there’s anything he needs, just ask.’
‘I will.’
He gave the dog a last pat and she watched him wrestle his way back through the gap in the hedge, then she opened the boot and gave Tatty a little tug. She sat down and whined, and Beth eyed her thoughtfully.
She was NOT a small dog. The boot was barely big enough. Did she really need to wrestle with her?
‘Please, Tatty. Come on. Good girl,’ she wheedled, and to her astonishment the dog jumped in, licked her hand and sat down.
Phew. She got behind the wheel and drove carefully to the practice, one eye on the rear-view mirror, but the dog just sat there, giving the odd whine. Presumably her last journey had ended in her being evicted from the car and dumped in the middle of nowhere—unless she genuinely had been rehomed and had simply run away?
‘Poor Tatty,’ she said softly, and the dog whined again.
‘Well? Do we know who she is?’
‘Sort of. No microchip, as expected, but I met your neighbour, Reg. She was the tenants’ dog.’
He nodded. ‘I was pretty sure she was. She made herself at home last night, anyway. She ended up on my bed.’
Beth’s eyes widened, and he laughed.
‘Don’t