Wellies and Westies (7 page)

Cat sat back on the sofa, her mind whirring. ‘But I’m in the right place to find things out. I can easily do a bit of investigating…’

‘No, Cat.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because, as I’m sure you already know, it’ll end in tears.’

With the relaxing warmth of an extra-long bath working its magic on her limbs, Cat was in her rose-print pyjamas on the sofa, and struggling to stay awake. She’d spent the afternoon plotting out the pages for the Pooch Promenade
website, and now just needed somebody expert to create it. She wasn’t sure after yesterday that Joe would want to be that person.

Darkness had descended, and the front room of number nine Primrose Terrace was cosy. Cat loved this time of year; the early sunsets, chilly in the evenings so that you could wrap up, but with vibrant flowers peeping up through the soil, the promise of summer around the corner. Her wrists and shoulders still ached, but her initial dismay at the disastrous walk had faded, her thoughts focused on how she could prevent it from happening again.

She’d padded into the living room, eyed Cat suspiciously and walked towards where her toes dangled enticingly over the edge of the sofa. Cat whipped her feet under her just as the front door banged open and Joe, breathing heavily and in full running gear, went straight past her and into the kitchen. Cat pretended to look at her website notes, listened to the cold tap running, the washing machine door opening, and tried not to feel so uncomfortable.

‘Hey,’ she called. ‘Good run?’ It felt lame, but she had to say something.

‘Cold,’ he called back. ‘But that wasn’t unexpected.’

‘Still raining?’

‘Yup.’

Great. Making an enemy of Polly’s brother was not on her to-do list. She took a deep breath.

‘Joe, I’m sorry I—’ She stopped as he appeared in the doorway stripped down and bare-chested in just his shorts. Cat could see that underneath his jeans and hoodies, Joe clearly kept himself very fit. ‘I shouldn’t have let the dogs in yesterday,’ she said quickly. ‘Jessica sprang the visit on me, and I didn’t realize she was bringing her dogs, but I…I couldn’t turn away – t-turn her away.’ Cat wasn’t sure where to look; there was something about Joe’s ripped torso that was making her feel a bit hot under the collar. She fumbled awkwardly as he stood there, half-naked, fixing her with a steady gaze. His blond hair was dark from the rain, his blue eyes bright after his exertion.

She tried again. ‘What I’m saying is…’

‘I know what you’re saying. I know it was an awkward situation, and I’m sorry if I seemed unreasonable. But I don’t want dogs here, and I was surprised you’d let them in.’

‘I am
really
sorry.’

‘I know,’ he nodded. ‘Apology accepted.’ He gave her a hint of a smile, retrieved his glass of water from the kitchen and sat opposite her, his elbows on his knees. His breathing had just about returned to normal, but Cat found herself fixated by the rise and fall of his chest, his slender but toned arms, and the six-pack. She looked away, thought of Mark, of his dark, amused eyes, his easy charm. She studied the individual orange hairs of Shed’s tail. She should go upstairs.

‘You looked a bit soggy when you came in earlier,’ Joe said eventually. ‘Were you walking the dogs?’

Cat nodded, reached for her cold cup of tea. ‘My first official walk as Pooch Promenade.’

‘And how did it go?’ She sensed him thaw a little, felt the slip back into a familiar routine.

‘Well,’ she said, trying to ignore Joe’s bare chest and tucking her legs up under her, ‘it started out well enough. I had a Rhodesian ridgeback, Elsie’s mini schnauzers and the three Westies—’ She stopped.

‘Jessica’s three,’ he confirmed for her. ‘It’s in the past. Go on.’

‘Right, thanks. We were trotting happily along, and then they spotted a squirrel, and then I might as well have been a rag doll at the mercy of a pack of huskies, I was that effective.’ She felt a flash of the panic that had engulfed her earlier and shuddered. ‘Ugh. Anyway, I had to be rescued by a handsome stranger.’

‘Oh? Someone you know?’

‘No, due to the fact that he was a
stranger
.’

‘Fair enough.’ He gave a sheepish smile. ‘So he was your knight in shining armour?’

‘Complete with collie.’

‘He has a dog? Of course he does.’ Joe scratched his jaw and glanced out of the window. Neither of them had got round to pulling the curtains, and Cat realized they must be clearly visible from the road, the lit room glowing like a beacon in the dark. ‘And have you recruited his dog?’

‘No. Well, not yet. But I think he must live close by, so I’m going to see if I can find out a bit more.’

‘Oh, no.’ He turned back to her. ‘What are you up to?’

‘Nothing at all.’ She kept her tone light, knowing he would see through it in an instant.

Joe put his glass on the table. ‘It took you two months to wreck your job at the nursery, and that was because you decided to upset the natural order. You knew what was allowed, and you did the opposite.’ His voice was rising, his blue eyes hard. ‘You’re one week into your new job –
your
business, I might add, nobody to lose out except you – and already you’re plotting something. You’re going to mess it up before it’s even got going.’

‘I’m trying to get more clients, that’s all.’

‘You’re after this guy?’

‘I’m intrigued by him.’ That was true, and she wasn’t after him, especially not if he was already with Jessica.

‘If you like him, why not just invite him for a drink? Then you can find out more by
asking
him.’

‘It’s more complicated than that. I need to know some things first.’

Joe took his glass into the kitchen. ‘Not everything has to be complicated,’ he called. ‘And sometimes,
often,
in fact, simple is better.’ He dropped his voice so Cat had to strain to hear him. She got the impression he was no longer talking to her. ‘Most of the time, simple is far less bloody trouble.’

‘Poor Joe,’ Cat said to Shed, who was still at her feet. ‘Not a happy bunny, is he?’

‘Who’s a bunny?’

‘Nobody. I was just saying to Shed that he’d probably quite like to chase a bunny.’

Joe narrowed his eyes. ‘Shed’s far too lazy to go after a rabbit. Sometimes he finds going after a bowl of Whiskas too taxing.’

‘Joe, would you like me to walk him for you?’ She grinned. ‘Walking cats isn’t
that
weird – I bet quite a lot of people do it.’

‘I’d love that.’

Cat frowned. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yes, I would love to see you try and walk a Rhodesian what’s-its-name, three Westies and my fat cat. I would video it, and it’d go viral in about three days – three hours if a squirrel got in on the act.’

Once he’d gone for his shower, Cat put the kettle on. She felt a small glow of satisfaction. Maybe she hadn’t completely ruined her relationship with him, maybe he could be worked on, made cups of tea, chipped away at until the real Joe – the Joe before Alex Duhamel and Rosalin – came back, emerging from the layers of misery. Maybe she could have her cartoon dog and Pooch Promenade
website after all.

Chapter 4

As March turned into April, Fairview Park transformed into a carpet of colour, of daffodils and marigolds and bluebells, the sea had more blue days than grey, and Cat and Pooch Promenade gained more confidence and more clients. Elsie’s recovery was slow, and while she had begun to take Chalky and Disco around the block, they still needed more exercise, and along with Bertha and the Westies, Cat had a couple of poodles to walk twice a week, and a Border terrier called Huey whose owners worked full time. Meeting new clients and picking up the dogs, she was learning different routes, getting to know Fairview better, and finding that she liked the cheery seaside town more and more.

This morning she was doing a simple, three-Westie walk. Jessica was off to Brighton to do some filming for a regional ITV programme about this year’s summer flavours, and had asked Cat to take her ‘little darlings’ out for an hour. Cat loved picking them up, loved the titbits of Jessica’s life that she was given, allowing herself to fill in the gaps. She knew that Jessica was ‘most definitely’ staying in Fairview, but had yet to establish what had made her change her mind – if it had anything to do with a certain dark-haired man. It was none of her business, but she couldn’t help trying to join the dots.

Did they know each other? Was Mark the reason for Jessica’s recent enthusiasm? Did Mark just have a flirtatious nature? Cat had been told on many occasions that her curiosity only ever got her into trouble, but it was a switch that was set permanently to on. And while she kept telling herself that she was only looking out for Jessica, it had been a long time since a man as attractive as Mark had shown an interest in her. If she discovered that they were only friends, or didn’t even know each other, what possibilities did that open up?

She left number nine, strode out into a bright, blustery morning and drank in the elegant terrace, the verges which were a sea of delicate primroses, the wide pavements drying quickly after the night’s rain. As ever, Cat slowed her pace as she reached number four. It was a rented property and didn’t look as polished as Elsie or Jessica’s houses or the boutique bed and breakfast at number three. The paint on the windowsills was cracked, and the front steps were beginning to crumble at the edges, but the front door was a vibrant, seaside blue with a gold number ‘4’. As she approached, a sleek looking Audi pulled up outside, and the object of her curiosity climbed smoothly out of the driver’s seat.

Mark opened the back door and Chips bounded up the front steps. Cat found herself coming to an automatic halt. She’d been right, at least, about where he lived.

‘Cat,’ he said, folding his arms and leaning against his car, amusement in his barely there smile. ‘The Cat who loves dogs.’

‘It’s Catherine, actually. But my friend Polly said that – that Cat was easier.’ Mark didn’t need to know that her best friend had given her the nickname because she was so endlessly curious. ‘How are you?’

He was wearing dark jeans, sturdy boots and his leather jacket, this time with a dark grey scarf wound tightly round his neck. It looked incredibly soft. Cat had daringly decided to embrace spring and dig her royal blue bolero jacket out of the closet. She was feeling the wind at her throat as a result.

‘Good, thanks. I’ve just taken Chips to the cliffs above the lighthouse. Lots of grass to run on, incredible views, clear, fresh air.’ He breathed in deeply. ‘Do you ever go there with your dogs?’

‘No, I don’t have a van, and it’s too far to walk.’

‘And dogs falling off cliffs is harder to recover from than dogs up trees?’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘The park does provide fewer obstacles.’

‘But today you’re dogless.’

‘I’m on my way to Jessica’s. To take her dogs to the risk-free park. Do…do you know her?’ Chips barked from the porch.

‘Who?’ Mark frowned. He took a step closer to her, and Cat could smell his aftershave. It was subtle, it smelled expensive. Cat swallowed.

‘Jessica Heybourne. She lives at number one. I thought you might have bumped into her.’

He was staring at her, his lips curved into a smile. ‘I just need to let Chips in, hang on.’ He climbed the steps, unlocked the door, waited as the collie raced inside, then turned to face her. ‘I don’t know many people in Fairview, I’ve not been here very long.’

‘Right.’ Cat couldn’t ask him again without it sounding obvious. ‘But you like it?’

Mark nodded and descended the steps. ‘It has many plus points, many striking views. Lots of things to recommend it. Primrose Terrace seems like a great place to live. Are you near here?’

‘I’m at number nine,’ Cat said. ‘It’s a very friendly road. I know Elsie at number ten, the owners of the bed and breakfast seem lovely, and of course there’s Jessica.’

‘Of course,’ Mark said. He took Cat’s upper arm and pulled her towards him. Her breath caught in her throat until she heard the pushchair rumble past and a woman calling: ‘Thank you.’ But by then her face was inches from his, and her stomach had discovered it could do somersaults. Never mind her finding out if Mark was being unfaithful to Jessica, she was about to
be
the unfaithfulness. ‘We’re blocking the pavement,’ he said, not taking his eyes from her face.

‘We should move.’ She stepped backwards, swallowed and put what she hoped was a breezy smile on her face. ‘I have to go and pick up the Westies.’

‘Do you ever think about things that aren’t dog related?’

‘Of course,’ Cat said, ‘lots of the time, but this is—’

‘What about right now?’ He raised an eyebrow, and Cat found herself looking at his lips. The half-smile, the jawline. She was thinking about his lips, and what they would feel like pressed against hers.

‘I’m thinking about…’

‘What?’

Her mind had stopped cooperating.

‘Those big brown eyes are like saucers,’ he said. ‘You’re panicking.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You really can’t think of anything else, can you?’ He looked satisfied, as if he’d proved his point.

Cat folded her arms. ‘I wasn’t thinking about dogs, actually.’

He leaned towards her and whispered in her ear. ‘I know.’

Cat gawped and Mark looked away as a car started further up the terrace. When he turned towards her again, his smirk was firmly back in place. ‘So it’s going well, the dog walking?’

She knew he’d thrown her a lifeline, but she was too flustered to do anything but take it. She was on much safer ground with dogs.

‘It is. It – it’s better. Disco’s getting bigger, she’s lots of fun still, but not quite so haywire, and I’ve been working out schedules, planning the walks around size, number and type of dogs. Squirrelgate was a one-off.’ It was true. She’d sat down with Polly and drawn up a rota – there weren’t enough dogs to fill it yet, but Cat could do three walks a day, two at weekends when the demand was less, and shouldn’t run into any more problems if she spread out her clients efficiently.

‘Glad to hear it. Although I’m not too disappointed you were having a bad day when I found you.’