Distraction

Chapter Thirty-Six

Still smiling, Libby knelt on the kitchen floor showering the puppy with love while Patrick put the kettle on. Was Isla the dog Patrick so desperately wanted when he was eleven?

'How old is she?'

'Twelve weeks. She's the runt no one wanted because she has odd ears.'

Libby examined them. One was almost half the size of the other. 'She's adorable.'

'Want to see her party trick? She's better at spinning around than you.' He held Isla's tail near her mouth and they both laughed watching her whizz in circles trying to catch it. 'She's why I was so late tonight. I didn't want to leave her on her own for too long.'

'And there's me thinking you didn't like mangy mongrels.'

'Of course I do. Not that she's mangy.'

Libby sat on the slate-tiled floor, laughing as Isla scampered over her legs and turned the hold-ups into a mass of snags and tiny ladders.

'Thank you, Isla. Now I look like a St Trinian's sixth former. It's a great look but I was going for classy tonight.' She kissed the beautiful puppy. 'If it's not the cats and dogs you hate, why don't you like Monday afternoons?'

He pottered around, shedding his jacket, opening a fresh pack of coffee, spooning it into a cafetiere. Notably, he didn't answer her question.

'You'll never be happy,' she said, throwing his words back at him, 'if you don't tell people about yourself.'

He sucked in one cheek, before shaking his head in defeat. 'I prefer dealing with the large animals. The farmers and horse owners around here are a pretty decent bunch, but at the Haverton surgery the people are... Well, the cats and dogs aren't always the best cared for, mostly through ignorance, but I hate it.'

He picked up Isla, laughing as he avoided her doggy kisses and Libby's walls tumbled. Patrick had the tall, dark and handsome boxes firmly ticked, and although the speed he completed his A to Z appalled her, he wasn't an indulgent egotist, not really. He adored animals and he'd gone out of his way to rebuild her life. He had to be her Somebody.

The kettle boiled, its click bringing her to reality. She had to stop thinking about romantic outcomes; she had to stay focused. With the cafeti\u00e8re filled, Patrick grabbed two mugs, a carton of milk and sat on the floor beside her, their backs against the wall. Isla curled up on his knee.

'Is this how you pull all the girls? Lure them in with a puppy then have coffee on the kitchen floor?'

'This would be a first.'

They weren't even flirting. They were beyond it. There was no doubt that they'd end up in bed. It's what happened before Libby wasn't sure of.

'Do you want to get that apology out of the way?' she asked.

He stroked Isla, before taking a deep breath. 'Okay, sod it. I'm sorry for the hot and cold. I'm sorry for walking out of the pub and I'm sorry for not talking to you when you came to say thank you. That was bloody rude. And Halloween? Unbelievably sorry.'

'I'll forgive you.' She struggled not to grin.

'But I'm not sorry for kissing you, ever.'

'Are you some schizo stalker?'

'No.' He laughed, cringing. 'But I'll admit it's kind of weird behaviour.'

She nodded. 'So why?'

'Did I kiss you?' He rested his head against the wall, smiling towards the ceiling. 'Because you looked too cute not to.'

She elbowed him. 'You know what I mean.'