Country Affairs. Zara Stoneley

slithering to the floor, which was pretty undignified, but safe. Well safe-ish.

      Tilly, the head terrier, relieved to see she was still alive, leapt on her thigh with a delighted whimper and proceeded to give her a reassuring kiss, which did nothing at all to help the situation.

      Being caught in her Minnie Mouse PJ’s and bare feet was one thing, still having her bed hair and bad breath was another. Crouching on the floor with dog slobber on her face lowered her to altogether new depths. Low even for her.

      ‘Want one? Or had you got something tastier in mind?’

      She looked up into the grinning face of Todd Mitchell, who was waving a bacon sandwich in her direction, and clearly had lots of things in mind - none of them remotely connected to bacon.

      Todd in the kitchen eating breakfast was so not how her day was supposed to start.

      ‘Some knees-up you had last night. Your folk certainly know how to party.’

      Lottie did her best to piece together the rest of the evening after Todd’s unscheduled departure, and failed miserably. There was a rather fuzzy memory of spin-the-bottle that probably shouldn’t be thought about too deeply, followed by an award-winning performance from Rory in the stable yard. She probably still had straw in her hair, just to finish off the sophisticated look. And she had a vague recollection of Uncle Dom insisting they had to talk. Whether they had or not was a different matter.

      ‘You okay, Lots?’

      ‘What are you doing here?’ She took in the smell of coffee and tried to decide if actually drinking some would make her feel worse or better.

      ‘Brekkie.’ He waved the sandwich in the air again briefly before taking a large bite. She watched him chew. Mesmerised. ‘Tab brought me over and told me to wait here while she did her horse business.’ It was definitely good when he spoke with his mouth full, made him far less attractive. ‘Good type that Rory, when you get to know him. Makes a mean bacon sarnie.’

      Lottie looked at him suspiciously, wondering what kind of male bonding could have possibly taken place over a pan of crispy bacon and when nothing came to mind she rescued her beeping mobile from the dog’s basket before it got chewed up. Uncle Dom, it seemed, had been busy this morning, texting and calling her, which was a bit weird. For him a phone was a functional item to be used only when necessary. Maybe somebody had died. Or she’d done something exceptionally outrageous at the wedding. Or, more likely, forgotten to do something she’d promised.

      Had they put all the horses away or had they left some on his front lawn? She was tempted to put the mobile back in Tilly’s basket and hope the terrier ate the evidence.

      ‘I didn’t mean what are you doing in my kitchen? I meant what are you doing in the country?’

      ‘Oh, I get you now.’

      ‘So you’re not in prison then?’ The faint note of optimism was probably just a little bit mean.

      ‘Let out early for good behaviour.’ He winked.

      Laid-back could be good, but it could also be annoying at times. Todd must be the only man on the planet who didn’t think being dragged off a beach by the police was an issue, and who could shrug off imprisonment. Did nothing ever get under his skin?

      She’d been to hell and back wondering what was going to happen to him, what it was all about. And it didn’t even bother him a teeny weeny bit. It looked as though he’d just ridden the wave and come to carry on where they’d left off. Except he couldn’t. No way was she ever going to trust a man like Todd again, and anyway she’d moved on. Or, more accurately, moved back – to the life she used to have, except this time it was better. Now she knew Rory loved her. And she felt needed; by him, by her family and by the massive, beautiful estate that plucked at her heartstrings.

      But even with the hangover from hell, she couldn’t stay sore at anybody for long. Not even Todd.

      ‘Going to give me a hug, kiss and make up?’

      That was pushing it too far, though. Time to change the subject. ‘Don’t you think she’s too young for you?’

      ‘Who?’

      ‘Tabatha.’

      ‘Tabatha?’

      ‘The one with the pink knickers, remember?’

      He raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah, no chance of forgetting those pink knickers. Bit young for me to what?’ And grinned. ‘Seriously,’ and for a second the smile did disappear, ‘I am sorry, and I never actually was in prison, you know. We just forgot to post that final divorce thingy, what do you call it? Absolute, decree absolute. Why you Brits have to complicate everything beats me. All that bloody legal stuff.’ She watched as he took another healthy bite out of his sandwich. ‘And would you credit it? My second bloody marriage was never legal.’ He laughed: a loud, healthy laugh that reminded Lottie that her head hurt. In a kind of throbbing, pounding way. ‘These beach weddings on remote islands have hidden benefits. Paperwork’s a shambles.’ He grinned and displayed a good set of perfect white teeth. ‘So hey presto! No probs and here I am.’

      Not that she saw ‘here I am’ as ‘no probs’, which took her neatly back to the ‘why are you here?’ question.

      ‘I was sorry about the whole beach thing,’ he was giving her his earnest look, ‘I was looking forward to that paella.’

      ‘It wasn’t the paella that was the problem. It was the police.’

      ‘The police?’ He looked blank. ‘They didn’t bother you, did they?’

      ‘Not apart from surrounding us on the beach and then dragging you off it.’

      ‘To be fair, they didn’t drag, hun.’

      ‘But they were there. They arrested you. I was sunbathing. I was in a bikini, and,’ she paused at the critical bit, ‘it wasn’t even my best one.’ Humiliation had not been the word for it. It was like that nightmare of arriving at a party in fancy dress only to find out that the event was actually black tie. Well, that was one of her nightmares, along with the one when she sat down for dinner and then realised she was naked. She probably should talk to somebody about her weird dreams. Or maybe not.

      Todd looked confused. Obviously, getting arrested on the beach was just a normal occurrence for him, and what else would you be wearing on a beach? ‘Anyhow, all in the past now. Thought I’d come and see what your neck of the woods looked like. No,’ he held up a hand to stop the words she wasn’t going to say, ‘no worries about putting me up. Got it all sorted.’

      Putting him up? Was the man mad? He had to go. Soon, now, immediately.

      All Lottie wanted to do was bang her head on the wall, or just curl up on the floor, shut her eyes and try to blank him out.

      ‘So you didn’t actually come here to find me and say sorry?’

      ‘Well, I am sorry, babe, honest. I know it was all kind of unexpected, and it was me who persuaded you to head to Spain.’ He shrugged, ever nonchalant, but she could see in those deep-blue eyes that he actually was at least a tiny bit bothered. ‘And it worked out better for you in the end, didn’t it?’ He gestured round the kitchen. ‘You were getting bored of beach life weren’t you? Couldn’t wait to get back to all this, eh?’

      ‘That’s beside the point. It was a shock. But you’re right, I am happy to be home.’ She paused. ‘I’m fine, so you’ll be, er, moving on now you’ve got that off your chest?’

      He shrugged. ‘Thought I might hang around for a bit and explore your neighbourhood.’

      ‘You can’t.’ That did sound mean. ‘I mean why? I mean shouldn’t you be surfing or something?’

      ‘A change is as good as a rest, isn’t that what they say?’

      ‘You don’t need a rest, Todd. You surf and you lie on beaches and er…’ She racked