If she hadn’t been so relieved by the fact the Chihuahua lived she’d have scooped him up from the tail and fed him to the boar herself.
“All’s well that ends well?” the man asked.
“Yes. Thank you,” she replied gratefully. “You are a lifesaver.”
“The name’s Cedric Swift.” His smile revealed deep-set dimples. “And pleased to be of service. I debated taking this bench—allergic to dogs, I’m afraid—but must say, I’m rather glad for it. This is my first week in Everland. I’m letting a cottage near the river.”
“Small world.” She toyed with her off-the-shoulder neckline. Allergic to dogs? Dreamy. “I’m Pepper and also new in town. But won’t be staying.”
“Ah.” His shoulders fell. “More’s the pity,” he said. Was it wishful thinking or did a trace of wistfulness color his words?
“You sound a long way from home.”
“Ah. Yes. From across the pond.” He blinked rapidly. “The Cotswolds in south central England. The land of thatched roofs, cobblestone streets, and teahouses.”
“What brings you here?” She was curious, but also curious that her pulse stayed on an even keel. This guy was polished and had a hot British accent. Yes her insides stayed as serene as a morning pond.
“Well, you see, I’m something of a specialist on the subject of outlaws in the Atlantic. The great age of sail is of particular interest.”
Tossing a glance over her shoulder, she captured Rhett’s gaze. Not hard, considering he was staring in her direction, one hand shoved deep in his pockets. Sun reflected on his glasses, hiding the expression in his eyes. For not being her type, she found herself more curious about him than her current conversation.
“Ah, I’ve bored you already,” Cedric said. “This is a new record.”
She snapped back her head to protest and he lifted a hand. “Not a problem. You won’t be the first. Or the last, I’m afraid.”
“You’re a historian?” Just because she lacked chemistry with this very sweet, very charming man didn’t mean she needed to abandon manners.
He nodded. “From Oxford. I wrote the definite account of how Falmouth became a vital part of the empire’s maritime strategy during the early to mid-nineteenth century. You might have read it?”
“Um—”
“I was only having a bit of fun,” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Not even my own mum stayed awake past the first chapter. Rather dry stuff, I’m afraid. Still, it’s allowed me to take a sabbatical for the year. I’m quite interested in the Redbeard lore specific to this region.” He reached for the red thermos beside him. “But enough about me. May I interest you in joining me for a cuppa?”
And if there was ever definitive proof that Everland was a parallel universe it was here, in the fact that she’d rather walk back over to a grumpy coffee-sipping veterinarian than stay and take tea with an intellectual Englishman who made befuddled Hugh Grant–like facial expressions.
Notting Hillalso happened to be one of her top five favorite movies.
This choice didn’t happen lightly.
“Rain check?” she asked, wrangling Wolfgang back on the leash. More concerned about the amorous look in his eyes than his teeth. Progress. Sort of.
“Of course.” He took the gentle rebuff in good stride. “I expect to be here most mornings, keeping to this side of the fence, of course. And keeping an eye out for any wayward dogs.”
“I’d appreciate that.” She smiled before returning to Rhett and the General.
Rhett readjusted a shirt cuff with a stiff nod, not looking her in the eye. “Who was that?” he asked levelly.
“Just a guy. New in town, too.” She shrugged. “From the UK.”
“England?” Incredulity tinged his words.
“Why are you using that tone?” Pepper stepped under the towering magnolia, seeking refuge from the sun’s unrelenting rays.
“Tone?” He frowned down at her. “I have no tone.”
She held her ground. “You do, too.”
“Do not.”
