Summer at Lavender Bay. Sarah Bennett

into the woman he’d been so rude to that afternoon he’d be lucky if she didn’t kick him in the balls. ‘A walk will do me good, and poor Bastian too, I bet. Thanks, Mum, you’re the best.’

      She winked at him as she dropped her hand. ‘And don’t you forget it. Go on, hop to, and I’ll butter you a slice of bread to go with your dinner.’

      As his mum had predicted, a shower, change of clothes and a hot meal had done the power of good to lift his spirits and chase the worst of his fatigue away. She and Noah had ensconced themselves on the sofa in front of The Lego Movie and had both seemed perfectly content to carry on without him. With a whistle to Bastian, Jack gathered the dog’s lead, a disreputable looking tennis ball and a pocket torch for the way back and set off across the circular driveway towards the footpath leading down into Lavender Bay.

      It was a pleasant evening, and as they drew closer to town a refreshing breeze came in from the sea, lifting his mood even further. The walk down from the farm had taken just under fifteen minutes so although his mouth was watering at the prospect of a cold pint, Jack took the time to head down onto the beach to let Bastian have a really good run. There were plenty of people strolling along the promenade, as well as a few hardy souls who were paddling their toes in the sea as the evening dusk drew trails of pink, orange and indigo across the sky. The sun had been hot, but it was still early enough in the season for the water to remain frigid.

      He shared a smile with a shrieking woman and the laughing man beside her who’d got caught out by a wave splashing halfway up their calves. It was his own turn to curse as Bastian came pounding through the surf, tongue lolling around his tennis ball, sending a spray of icy water soaking the front of Jack’s T-shirt. ‘Cheers, mate!’ Jack shook his head at the dog, who dropped the ball at his feet, tail wagging a mile a minute.

      Stooping, he picked up the ball and tossed it again, making sure to aim up the beach this time. Bastian charged off with Jack in slower pursuit and the pair met near the steps leading back up to the prom. ‘Enough for now? Let’s see if we can get us both a nice cold drink.’ He clipped the short leather lead onto the dog’s matching collar and led him up the steps.

      Laughter, music and the smell of hops and rich gravy greeted him in a delicious wave of sensation as Jack pushed open the door to The Siren. Pausing just inside, he caught the eye of a familiar face behind the bar and nodded down to the dog. ‘He all right?’

      ‘Jack the Lad! You’re a sight for sore eyes!’ Sam pushed his fringe out of his eyes as he pointed to the other end of the bar. ‘Come around to the side and I’ll get you a dish of water for him.’

      He’d first got to know Sam the previous year after the man had returned home to help his parents run the pub. Jason and Jack had been regulars since they’d been old enough to buy a pint, but they’d never really mixed with others their own age. In the way of kids, the two of them being home-schooled had created enough of a barrier to potential friendships.

      A few years of maturity on all sides had closed any gaps and once Sam had returned to Lavender Bay, he and Jack had hit it off. ‘Cheers, I appreciate it.’ Jack said when a large metal bowl was placed on the bare patch of tiles next to the raised section of the bar.

      Sam straightened up. ‘No trouble, now what about you?’

      ‘A pint of lager, please.’ Jack looked around the bar whilst he waited. It had been too long since he’d been down into town, but the place looked the same. Accepting the beer placed before him with a nod of thanks, he dug in his pocket for some change and handed it over to Sam. ‘Sorry I haven’t been around for a while, but—’

      ‘Don’t even mention it, mate. I’m just glad to see you.’ Sam cut him off before Jack could get bogged down in a painful explanation. It was so damn hard to say the actual words and he appreciated the other man’s sensitivity.

      Raising his glass, he took a long mouthful of the cold lager and swallowed his grief down along with the bitter brew. ‘Damn, I needed that. So, how’s things been with you?’

      The blond man laughed as he slung the handful of coins into the till without bothering to check them. ‘Oh, you know same old, same old. Fell in love, opening a new restaurant. Nothing special.’

      ‘Nothing special?’ Jack shook his head. ‘Bloody hell, I’ve only been out of the picture for a couple of months and you’re living the dream. Tell me more…’

      ‘Hello, gorgeous boy! Look at you! Yes, yes, you’re very handsome, aren’t you?’ A familiar soft voice distracted Jack from whatever Sam had been about to say next and he glanced down to see a woman crouched over an ecstatic-looking Bastian. He couldn’t make out her face thanks to the sandy curls tumbling around her shoulders, and she sounded a lot more enthusiastic than earlier, but he had more than a sneaking suspicion of who she might be. Well, damn.

      The woman straightened up, one hand still scratching the dog behind his ears, and familiar moss-green eyes met his stare, proving his suspicion correct. ‘Oh. It’s you,’ she said in the way one might observe finding a slug in their salad. ‘What are you doing here?’ Make that half a slug.

      Jack gestured to his drink, trying to ignore the heat rising on the back of his neck. Embarrassment over his earlier rudeness doused his good mood. ‘It’s a pub, isn’t it? I’m doing what most people do in one.’ Nice one, you wanker. What was it about her that made him so defensive?

      She wrinkled her snub of a nose at him, drawing his attention once again to the smattering of freckles across it. ‘Not for much longer if you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head.’ She glanced away from him to Bastian, crouching once more to lavish the Labrador with attention. ‘Not even if you’ve brought the most gorgeous-looking dog with you.’ The tone she used to address Bastian was infinitely warmer than the one she’d used on Jack.

      Sam cleared his throat. ‘You remember my sister, Eliza? She’s not normally this rude.’

      Eliza. Memories of giggling girls he’d eyed from across the pub in his teenage years tumbled through his head. So that’s where he’d recognised her from. Although if memory served him right, she’d always been with the same boy.

      His trip down memory lane ended abruptly when Eliza straightened up and graced him with a look likely to give him frostbite, even in the middle of the current heatwave. ‘Mr Gilbert took offence when I disturbed him at the farm earlier.’

      There was enough of a trace of hurt in her voice to smack some sense into Jack, and he offered her his hand. ‘It’s Jack.’

      ‘The lad, I heard.’ The look she gave him said she knew exactly why her brother called him that. Jack rolled his shoulders; so he’d played the field a bit, what of it? He’d never been out with a woman who didn’t share the same expectations—and boundaries. Refusing to feel embarrassed when he’d done nothing wrong, Jack decided to skip over it. ‘Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I was in a foul mood, but that’s no excuse for being an arse. Can we start again?’

      She eyed his hand warily for a moment before placing her palm against his. Her slender fingers seemed to disappear beneath his as they closed around them, adding to his early impression of her delicacy. ‘All right, then.’

      Another customer hailed her, and Eliza made to step behind the bar, then froze to look back at him, then down. When Jack followed her gaze, he realised with a start that he was still holding onto her hand and dropped it with a mumbled apology. Jesus, he needed to get a grip. Or not as the case may be.

      Finding his eyes straying towards where she was laughing over the bar at some comment from the man she was serving, Jack shook himself and turned his attention back to Sam. Now he knew the connection between them, it was obvious he and Eliza were related. Same sandy hair, same green eyes. He listened avidly as Sam described his plans to convert the old skittle alley beneath the pub into a high-end restaurant until eventually another customer drew him away.

      Settling down on an empty stool, Jack snagged a copy of the local paper which sat folded on the bar next to him. A few minutes of browsing