Chapter Ten
Bella snuffles her way down the lawn, checking that she didn’t miss any treats that Ash might have dropped this morning, then speeds up as we near the lake and starts pulling against her harness. It’s all or nothing with her, she’s either steaming ahead or stopped dead because she’s found something interesting that she needs to investigate.
In fact, she is so excited, and is wrenching my arm so hard, it feels mean not to let her off the lead.
But I don’t. Because I’m sure I have just spotted the unmistakeable outline of Ash watching us from further up the hill. He’s a hard man to miss.
He obviously didn’t take my ‘go away’ very seriously.
‘Oh no you don’t, mister!’ I shake my head. I’m up to this challenge. No way is he stalking us to the village, laying out treats as he goes to tempt Bella away from me. If he thinks I’m falling for that, he’s got another think coming. I’m not just going to outwit Mr Sexy Pants, I am going to give him a run for his money. I am getting good at this.
I eye up the little boat that is tied to a mooring post and can feel the grin broaden on my face as the idea takes root.
‘You really do love the water, don’t you?’
Bella grins back at me, then does a little growly-barky thing. It’s the nearest a dog can get to talking. She does it quite a lot. I glance back up the hill.
‘Shall we?’ The urge is getting stronger. I feel like a kid – unable to resist the impulse. Whatever else Ash is capable of, walking on water can’t be one of his skills.
I glance around. Nobody else in sight. It can’t do any harm, borrowing it just for a little while, can it? Nobody needs know.
‘You will stay in the boat?’
She barks and starts to leap up at me trying to grab the end of the lead out of my hand. ‘Okay, okay you lunatic!’ Oh my God, I do feel like a giddy child again. My stomach is jumping about with anticipation as though there’s a run of salmon in there leaping upstream. Years ago, when we were here, Dad took me and Abby in a rowing boat on Lake Windermere. My brother (boring even at twelve years old) sat with Mum (scared of water) on a bench, while we had the time of our lives – and I cried when Dad said we had to head back. Abby didn’t, she is sensible and accepts things. I used to cry quite a lot; in fact, I admit I did quite often turn on the waterworks to get my own way. Not always. Just sometimes. I was known as ‘the emotional, feely one’ so why not capitalise a bit? I don’t do it now. Never. Crying is for babies and the weak.
I plonk my rucksack down on the gravel that edges the lake and tug on the rope to pull the tiny rowing boat in closer, then look up the hill. Oh my God, he’s heading our way! ‘Bella, quick, quick, we’ve got to do this!’ I’m giggling to myself and hopping from one foot to the other, my hands fumbling with the knot and Bella is bouncing about in excitement.
The boat looks in quite good nick, definitely sea (or lake) worthy. I can’t really see Georgina splashing about, so maybe it was Ash’s?
There’s a yell. I’m sure he just yelled out to us to stop. Haha to you, Ashley James. I bet it is his boat. But whoever it belongs to, Bella definitely knows what it’s for. She’s leaping about, wagging her tail, play bowing and whining for me to hurry up. ‘Okay, okay.’ I try and hang on to her as I put my other hand out to steady it and she starts to bark with excitement. ‘Go on then.’ I laugh as she takes a flying leap and it rocks from side to side, water splashing in, then she sits down on the bench with her back to me – looking out at the water expectantly.
What can I do? I can’t let the dog down, can I?
Seconds later, I’m holding the oars tentatively and try dipping one into the water experimentally. The boat wobbles its way from the shore. Bloody hell, I feel like Bilbo Baggins off on a big adventure, escaping the evil dog-napper! This is way outside anything I ever did with Teddy – Mr Boundaries and Control. The most adventurous our lives got was taking a short cut in Ikea so that we didn’t have to go around the entire shop.
Or asking for extra pepper on a pizza.
I pull harder and we practically zoom along, we’re metres from the bank now.
I’m brilliant at this!
Bella’s long lead pools around my feet, so I unclip it from her harness. ‘Now you be good!’ I can still grab the harness if I need to – it’s got a handle, real-deal, expensive, rugged outdoor wear for the dog-explorer. Goodness knows how much the sponsor pays for her to be pictured wearing this in the lake or perched on top of a mountain.
We start off very wobbly, but I soon get the hang of it because I’m bloody determined to put some distance between us and Ash before he gets down to the shore. Soon we’re kind of going in a straight line, and far enough out that not even he can wade in and grab Bella.
I snigger to myself, then put down the oars and gaze around. A smile on my face as I trail my hand in the ice-cold water and sneak a look back to see where Ash is. He looks miles away! I’ve won!
It feels like freedom. Time has stopped, we can sit here for hours just watching the water dimple around us as insects scud across its surface, watching the ripples spread and fade into nothingness. Looking at the brilliant blue sky and the grey-white sparkling clouds above us.
I can have a snack, do some sketching.
Bugger. For a moment I panic when I can’t see my rucksack in the bottom of the boat, then realise that in my rush to get away before Ash reached us, I didn’t pick it up. I twist round and can just make it out, abandoned on the gravel at the side of the lake.
The boat rocks violently as Bella spins round and barks. ‘Stop it!’ She ignores me and does a bit more totally boat-inappropriate bouncing. ‘What the fuck…’
She’s looking back towards the bank, her front feet perched on the back of the boat, jiggling about and bouncing in a way that is not a good idea. The most piercing whistle possible carries clearly across the water and Bella knows exactly who is making the noise. Ash.
She crouches slightly, her back legs tensed for the jump. ‘Bella, here. Ignore him!’ I lean forward and reach out, trying to grab hold of the nearest bit – her tail. If I work my way up her body, I can put my hands over her ears. What does the idiot think he’s doing, getting her all excited? ‘Sugar.’ She’s gone, her silky tail slipping through my fingertips as I make a final desperate grab for a back paw. I can’t let her drown! Oh my God, Georgina will never forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself. Ash will never forgive me.
Why didn’t I think before I jumped in this stupid, bloody boat?
I can see the headlines now: Dog-sitter drowns canine media star!
I’m supposed to be keeping Bella safe.
Bloody hell, the boat is rocking. I teeter, lose my balance and lean too far over the side. I’m aware I’m flailing around desperately for something to grab, but all I find is thin air.
Then water.
Christ, it’s cold.
For a second, I’m under the surface, then I come up spluttering, spitting out a mouthful of mucky lake. ‘Fuck.’ It is unbelievably cold, even with all my clothes on. ‘Bella, Bella.’ I splash about on the spot, and she’s nowhere to be seen. Oh God. Where the hell is she? I flail around in a circle, there’s no sign of her! My eyes burn and I blink back the tears.
‘Bella!’ My throat has tightened up so much that it hurts when I bellow her name. I get a mouthful of water and splutter.
I grab onto the side of the boat. I need to get back in, I need to row around, I need to search the lake. She can’t have gone far. She can’t have just drowned already.
But I can’t see her.
The panic gurgles about in my stomach as I thrash about wildly with my legs, trying to propel myself out of the water. But my clothes are soaked; I feel heavy, and the tiny boat just tilts alarmingly every time I try and launch myself into it, threatening to overturn.
‘Shit, shit, shit.’ I brush my hair back out of my eyes and squint, trying to see the dog against the glare of the water.
Oh my God,
this is terrible. Where is she? I can’t see Bella anywhere – I can see Ash though. He’s powering through the water like an Olympic swimmer, broad shoulders and muscled forearms impressively cutting through the surface as though he was born with flippers. And he’s heading straight for me.
‘Not me! Find Bella!’ I yell, waving madly.
He reaches me about two seconds after the words come out of my mouth, and it’s like a whale has swum below me. There’s a tremendous upwards force and I’m dumped unceremoniously back into the boat.
It would be funny if I wasn’t on the verge of tears. ‘Find Bella, you idiot!’ I’m going to start crying, I must not cry.
He grins, his large hand wiping over his face and slicking his hair back. The sunlight reflecting from the water and dancing in his blue-blue eyes. For a moment I’m mesmerised then I snap out of it. ‘It’s not funny.’ I choke the tears back. ‘The dog!’
One hand on the side of the boat, he turns around slowly, taking me and the craft with him, and points with his spare hand.
She is on the bank, bouncing about and barking, and ragging my bloody rucksack as though she is trying to kill it!
I collapse back in the boat onto my back as relief surges through me, relying on the fact he’ll keep a hold and not upturn me.
Actually, I don’t care any longer. Tip me up. Drown me.
She’s okay. She is okay.
Ash chuckles, and it’s a rolling, rich, right-from-the-belly kind of chuckle that brings me out in goose bumps.
I’m still trying to process it when he looms above me, pushing himself upwards with his two hands on the side of the boat.
Bloody hell, I take it back, don’t drown me yet. Let me have my own little Mr Darcy moment.
I have never, ever seen quivering pecs and a washboard stomach like this before. And believe me, I have seen a few in my time – I can practically count the muscles, and I’ve studied enough nudes in art school to know these are all in the right places.
It is obscene. No man should be allowed to wear a T-shirt that looks like this when it gets wet.
‘Are you okay?’ He sounds concerned.
‘Fine,’ I say weakly. Just knocked out by the view. ‘I just feel a bit faint.’ I may need the kiss of life.
‘Budge up then.’
I blink.
‘On second thoughts I’ll just tow you in.’
‘Quite happy to budge up,’ I say pathetically, but we’re already on the move, scudding across the surface of the water even faster than I was when I was rowing.
I watch, speechless, as he wades out of the water and ties the boat up. It’s not just the way his T-shirt clings to him like a second skin, I am now being treated to the sight of his trousers draped over strong thighs and hugging his slim hips and positively snogging his well-defined bum cheeks, and OMG as he turns round, his groin. This isn’t like a second skin, or a wetsuit, this is body-paint. With extra shadowing and shading so my eye doesn’t miss the most important bits. I’d close my eyes, but I can’t move. Not a muscle.
‘Come on.’
I still feel faint. All I can do is stare at his outstretched hand. My brain is overloaded, it can’t take in the graphic scenery and the invitation to move.
‘Becky? Becky, are you okay?’
‘I just need a moment,’ I croak out. I think I must have water on the brain, it is distorting everything. Magnifying things. I thought cold water was supposed to cause shrinkage.
‘Come on, I need you moving, you’re starting to shiver – it’s a killer, that lake, if you don’t get warm straight away. This your bag?’
I nod and he scoops it up with one hand and leans closer to me. I slip my hand into his, which is gorgeously warm and capable, and let him haul me over the side of the boat and onto the gravel. The heat of his touch has just made me realise he’s right – I’m freezing cold. I’m shivering and my teeth are chattering. I let go so I can wrap my arms around myself and discover rather alarmingly that my legs are all pathetic and jelly-like. I’m shaking and I’m not sure if it is from the cold, his body or relief.
He grabs my elbow about one second after I notice that the ground is tilting and trembling like there’s an earthquake on its way.
‘She could have drowned.’
‘Shh, she hasn’t, she’s fine, she can swim like an otter.’
‘But I didn’t know. She could have…’
‘I’ll carry you.’
I forget about Bella for a moment when he leans in closer as though he’s going to grab me. ‘Oh my God, no. No!’ I can just see it. He’ll throw me over his shoulder and my bum will be in his face, my fingers will be tantalisingly close to his own firm buttocks and in my confused state I’ll do something totally embarrassing.
‘Oh my God, yes, woman!’ He chuckles. He shouldn’t do that. It’s disorientating, and so is being swept up into his arms so that I’m snuggled with my mouth only inches from his taut, tanned throat.
Oh shit, he smells good. I close my eyes and it makes it worse; my sense of smell is heightened if that’s possible and my nose is twitching like a rabbit’s. Even in my pathetic state I am so tempted to stick my tongue out for a quick lick. Thanks goodness he can’t see what I’m up to under his chin.
One of his thumbs is nestled under my boob, on my rib cage, and I daren’t move a muscle. He might think I’m cuddling up. Or worse. I can hardly breathe. But boy, am I wet and clammy and totally uncomfortable. It’s a good job I’m icy cold, if I heat up too much I’ll be steaming. Must think cold thoughts.
‘Bella!’ He whistles, and she lifts her head from where she’s been sniffing and scampers after him.
‘She never does that for me!’ I say grudgingly, trying to distract myself from my situation with grumpiness.
The low laugh rumbles from his chest against my body. It’s a bit like sitting on a purring cat, not that I’ve ever tried it, you understand.
‘We’ve been together a while,’ he says, and it doesn’t sound like an admonishment. I start to forget dangerous sexual attraction and relax slightly.
‘First time I saw her she was four weeks old, picked her out of the litter.’ I can hear the smile in his soft, even-toned voice. He seems to like talking about her. It’s nice listening to him. We’re climbing steadily now, and despite lugging my heavy weight he’s not huffing or puffing at all. ‘Right little tinker she was, she came bobbling over with that daisy on her head, then leapt on my bootlaces and tried to race off with the end in her mouth. Went back a month later and I swear she remembered me, went straight for my boot again, she did. Didn’t you, you little monster?’ I realise then that she’s walking at the side of us, glued to his leg, gazing up as though she loves every bone in his body. Bugger, he’s making this dog-sitting – sorry dog-protection – lark harder every day. ‘She was a tiny scrap of a thing, all fluff and big eyes. You okay?’
I seem to have stopped shivering. Now I just feel a bit awkward. And damp. And conscious that I am willingly pressed against his body, and he is the enemy! Just because he loves Bella, doesn’t mean she’s his. Or he can take her.
Though on that subject, why didn’t he just leave me to my fate in the lake and run off with the dog? Or drag me to the shore, check for a pulse then run off with the dog? Maybe he’s not quite as bad as Georgina would have me believe.
It is his fault all that happened though, so maybe he’s just being nice because he feels guilty.
‘You shouldn’t have whistled her!’
He grins and shifts my weight in his arms. I can see his dimples properly from here. And the cleft in his chin, which I’m very tempted to touch. If I just reached out and… no! I must not. I must keep my hands to myself. ‘I thought it would be funny if she jumped out, how was I to know you’d dive in after her?’
‘I didn’t dive. I lost my balance.’
‘But you would have done.’ He gazes into my eyes solemnly. No hint of mockery. ‘Take your duties seriously, don’t you Becky?’
; ‘Very,’ I say slightly stiffly, then his warm hand moves against my thigh and I realise it might be better not to be stroppy in case he drops me, and I roll all the way back down the hill. I’m not sure I’ve got the energy to crawl back up.
So, this is all about self-preservation, nothing to do with how nice it feels to be wrapped in his strong arms. Pressed against his firm chest. Shit, I’d better not get too cosy. ‘It’s, erm, nice how the garden goes down to the lake.’
There’s a long pause, and I’m trying to think of some other pleasantry, when he starts talking again. ‘There used to be a boathouse where the boat was tied up.’
‘Really?’ I can just imagine it. A small, wooden, painted boathouse. ‘That would make a lovely picture.’ For a moment I forget about his magnetism and the dog-napping danger.
‘It did.’ His voice has an edge. There’s a pause. ‘I can show you a photo if you like?’ The deadness has gone, the steady tone is back.
‘Great!’
‘I used to play in it when I was a kid. Then when I was older, I’d fish from the jetty with a long stick and some twine.’ He chuckles again, and my insides go all squishy. ‘Then take the boat out. It was my hiding place.’ He’s smiling. I daren’t look up in case I meet his eye, but I know he is.
I need to get on solid, sensible ground. Right now, my body is like that fish on the end of his twine, flipping around and being drawn closer and closer to danger. He will soon use his SAS survival techniques (I don’t care if he’s not actually SAS, he is in my fantasy) and eat me. ‘So you’ve lived round here all your life?’
‘Yup, most of it. Right, here we go your ladyship, home sweet home.’ He loosens his grip and I slither down onto my feet, a supporting hand round my waist as I fumble for the keys and unlock the door. ‘Come on Bella, in the kitchen. I’ll dry you off in a sec.’
It really would be better if he left right now. ‘You can leave—’
‘No way. You might be able to talk through those chattering teeth, but I’m not going until I’m sure you’re not going to catch hypothermia. I’ll run you a hot bath.’
The Dog Sitter: The new feel-good romantic comedy of 2021 from the bestselling author of The Wedding Date! Page 11